Once Upon A Half-Time 2(58)

“It’s not you. You’ve been super crazy these past couple weeks.”

I arched an eyebrow. Lindsey huffed.

“Okay,” she said. “I know some of it is my fault.”

I smirked. “Some.”

“Still…” Lindsey leaned close. “Something’s different…”

I trimmed a bit of the tissue paper from the blossom of the flower. It wasn’t the prettiest, but tucked into a bouquet, it’d look very fluffy and pink.

Lindsey’s voice echoed through the house. “Oh, my god. You had sex!”

I flinched. The X-Acto knife sliced my palm.

We all screamed, though neither of us as shrill as Bryce.

I leapt to my feet as the blood dripped everywhere. Crimson droplets stained three of our premade flowers and all the white tissue paper. Lindsey howled like she had been cut, and Mom raced in from the kitchen, covered in flour.

“Who had sex?” She pointed at me with a finger coated in chocolate chip cookie dough. “Mandy, I told you. Ain’t nothing unnatural about your momma getting some. It’s how you got here, sweet thing, and I don’t see you complaining—”

“Mom, move!”

I pushed past her to the kitchen, dripping the entire way. Lindsey hurried after me and tossed me a clean tea-towel to sop up the blood. Mom lingered behind, fanning Bryce with her apron.

“Lord, have mercy,” Mom said. “Mandy, are you that much of a klutz? What happened? Why are you bleeding all over my floors?”

I’d have to apologize later for the inconvenience of my laceration. I leaned over the sink, but rinsing the wound made it bleed harder. It wasn’t a small cut, sliced right through the sensitive skin between my thumb and forefinger. I wrapped it tight in the towel.

Lindsey poked at me. “Does it hurt?”

“Ow! Stop!”

“That’s pretty deep.” She made a face. “You might need stitches.”

Mom padded across the kitchen and yanked on my hand. She looked at the cut and hmphed. “Sure, she can go to the hospital…and waste her money. Not like her Daddy gives her good health insurance at that hand-me-down job of hers.”

Lindsey stomped her foot. “Well, I can’t have a bridesmaid with a giant bandage on her hand for pictures! Or worse…an oozing, festering, puss-filled wound! We can’t Photoshop staph infections out of the photos, Mom!”

That did it. Now I felt woozy. I clutched the sink and swallowed, hard. If I got sick, at least no one would blame me. I did love the free excuses.

I pointed to Bryce. “Rick’s working tonight. We’ll go to the hospital. He can patch me up.”

Bryce refused to look at me, blocking me out of his vision with his raised palm. “I’ll give you a lift to the ER. Just…cover that up.”

Lindsey busted into gear, grabbing my purse and pushing me out the door. She paged Rick, but when he called to ask about the emergency, she grabbed the phone from me and hysterically screamed for help.

Rick knew better. He texted me on the sly. I one-handedly told him I was fine, but if he wanted to meet us in the ER, I’d love to have someone relatively competent in my corner.

We got to the hospital, but Bryce couldn’t leave the air-conditioned car for fear of a complete panic attack. I thanked him as Lindsey hauled me inside the ER, screaming to any nurse who would listen about her destroyed paper flower bouquets and the maid-of-honor nearly slicing a finger off. At least she got us into a room pretty quick.

Rick found us after only a couple of minutes. He immediately ordered Lindsey to sit down and shut up—in the way only a lifelong friend could tame the beast. He patted the bed for me. I hopped up, and his eyebrow arched.

“Good thing it’s slow tonight.” He stuck the blood pressure cuff on me and shook his head. “Linds, are you demanding blood tributes from your bridesmaids?”

“For your information.” Lindsey pouted in the chair. “This accident is going to cost us the whole night. I don’t have enough white tissue paper for the rest of the bouquets, and we’re way behind for the wedding preparations.”

Rick wasn’t listening. He looked at me. “Wow…how much blood did you lose? Your blood pressure is low. And your heart rate is a bit…high.”

Uh-oh.

I shrugged and lied. “I must just be stressed.”

This was a problem I hadn’t thought about. Rick charted the numbers, and I kicked myself for being stupid enough to come to a hospital.

I had discovered I was pregnant before my missed period and confirming test. Lindsey forced her bridesmaids to wear Fitbits, and, like a total dork, I was the only one who liked the cool little device. At first I’d thought the readings were wrong or the result of a busted component, but troubleshooting forums detailed the common causes for altered vitals.