“I like a good pickle when pregnant,” she shrugs. “Unoriginal I know, but it’s so good. Now come sit down. Can I get you a glass of champagne? A plate? We’re very casual here so just dive in. Tonight, will be full of ceremony and stuffed shirts so enjoy.”
“She means pompous asses,” a woman I’ve not met adds. “Hey, I’m Jules.”
“Shit. I forgot introductions,” Grace curses. “Well now you know Kayla and Jules, Cara is the one over there. Her husband is the Chief of Staff. Jules is the Press Secretary, but she’s also married to Ryan, Jake’s Aide-de-Camp, so they’re at all these things too. Honestly, it’s good to have a friendly face in the crowd since so many of them are not so friendly.”
“How about you?” Cara asks. “Do you have a group at home?”
“Kind of,” I answer. “Really everyone is terrifying except for Dahlia. She’s a love. That’s my sister-in-law. Otherwise, everyone is kind of trying to kill me or chase me away.”
“Wow,” is the general reply from the group of women, stunned expressions stamped on their face. Except for Grace. She knows it all and I get the feeling that’s always been the case, even before she married her husband. Grace seems like a powerful ally.
“Well, now you have us and we’ve weathered some heavy shit,” she says.
“Thanks.”
“Now, dig in and let’s make ourselves look unforgettable,” Jules says, piling cheese on a plate.
Cara plays with my hair while I sip on some champagne. “I love your hair,” she says. “Do you want it up or down?”
“I like it down. Up feels so fancy and with my impending doom hanging over my head, I think it would be overstimulating to have it up,” I answer.
To her credit, she just slowly blinks at me and picks up a curling iron.
After a while, everyone’s hair is done and we’re finishing our snacks before tackling our makeup. I was nervous at first, but these ladies are easy to be around, and they all help each other get ready.
I pick up a cracker with a piece of salami on it from my plate and suddenly, I start to sweat at my hairline and feel like I’m going to be sick. The smell is awful.
“Oh no,” Kayla says, grabbing my plate as Cara whips me up and pushes me into a bathroom. “I know that face.”
I drop to my knees, and she holds my hair while I very politely puke my guts up. When I’m done, I sit back on my heels and take the napkin handed to me with a quiet “thanks.”
I don’t know what happened. One minute I was fine and then I wasn’t.
Now I feel as if nothing is wrong other than the foul taste in my mouth. Someone holds out a hand to help me up from the floor and another, hands me a glass ofwater to swish with before offering a glass of ginger ale for my stomach.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “That was really odd. I have no idea what happened.”
The women just stare at me wearing the same expression, one that hovers somewhere between caring compassion and wanting to shoutyou sweet summer child, how can you be so dumb?Grace wades in and asks, “Are you sure you don’t have any idea?”
“None at all,” I reply. “I hope I’m not coming down with something. I’d hate to expose all of you and your children. Especially Kayla.”
“I don’t think you’re contagious,” Jules says and Cara elbows her hard in the ribs.
“What aren’t you all saying?” I ask.
“Honey, could you be pregnant?” Kayla asks.
I laugh… until I don’t. “You don’t think…?”
“Have you been trying?” Cara asks.
“We’ve been notnottrying,” I whisper.
“That’s how they get you,” Jules says. “What? I’m just saying. You marry a virile man like ours and you get knocked up. It’s like basic math.”
“You hate math,” Grace laughs.
“I also have a hot husband who not only planted his own kids in me but came pre-loaded with my awesome bonus kids.”