Page 41 of Floored (Frenched 3)
Her eyes on Lucas, Mia nodded tearfully. “I just keep thinking if I don’t admit it’s a possibility, it might not be a reality.”
“Mia.” Coco rubbed her shoulder. “This is very unlike you. You should want to know! You do, I know you do. When’s your period supposed to come?”
“Right about now.” She lifted her shoulders. “I’ve always wanted kids, but…I don’t feel ready. And I don’t think Lucas is ready. We just got married! He’ll be furious with me.”
“Oh, Mia. Lucas loves you so much. He’d never blame you for this—I’m pretty sure we’re not talking Immaculate Conception here.” I reached over and patted her hand. “You should tell him.” Now if it were Charlie on the other hand…I could see being nervous telling a guy like that. He probably would be furious. Blame the girl. Or the condom.
Crap. Condoms broke. My pulse raced with panic for a moment. But I was on the pill too. Pill plus condom was good, right? I wondered what Mia was using for birth control.
She took a shaky breath and let it out. “I know. You’re right. And it felt awful to hide it from him. He probably suspects but he’s too scared to ask. I was a mess two mornings this week. Not throwing up, but pretty sick to my stomach.”
“Oh my God. You’re so pregnant.” Coco’s smile lit up her face. “Please go home and take a test tonight. It should be accurate at this point. I have to know. I have to.”
Mia allowed a wavering smile. “Let me talk to Lucas first. Then I will.”
“Do you know how it happened?” I asked casually—at least I hoped I sounded casual—as the waitress appeared with two glasses of wine and an ice water. I don’t even know if the base of my glass hit the table before I took it from her hand.
Mia waited until she left before answering. “Not really. I’m on the pill. I think I just got a little distracted and careless after the wedding. Not on purpose or anything,” she said, eyes wide, as if we’d been about to accuse her.
Coco put a hand on her leg. “Mia. You are the most careful person I know. Lucas is not going to think you did this on purpose. For what, to trap him? You’re already married.”
The word trap made me slug an extra ounce of pinot noir before setting my glass down. But Lucas and Charlie were not the same man at all. “I think you’re underestimating Lucas,” I said. “I bet his reaction will surprise you.”
“You’re probably right.” Mia picked up her water and took a long drink. “OK. Tomorrow. I’ll do it.”
“In the morning,” Coco specified. “I don’t even know how I’m going to sleep tonight, so you better get this done right away. I’ll expect a phone call before noon.”
“I’ll try. OK, let’s talk about something else before I start to freak out. Wedding update?”
Coco made a disgusted sound and picked up her wine. “No. I can’t even. I’m so mad I agreed to this shotgun wedding next month. Do you know I can’t even have flowers at the church?”
Mia gasped. “Why?”
“Because it’s fucking Advent!” she yelled. Then she looked skyward. “Sorry. I should be a better Catholic now.” She took a deep breath and let it out. “Because it’s fucking Advent,” she said, calmer.
I laughed. “Yes, that’s much better. God doesn’t hear the quiet swears.”
“I have to keep the whole thing toned down, the deacon said. Not that my taste was so flamboyant to begin with, but I was at least hoping for flowers.” She looked miserable. “I’ll probably have to wear rags and carry frankincense and myrrh. Ride there on a donkey.”
“It’s going to be beautiful no matter what.” I rubbed her arm. “How about candles? Candles are very Catholic and you can probably light a million of them in there. Tell them you want one for every saint.” For one insane second, which I will blame on the sudden and accelerated intake of wine, I entertained a quick fantasy of walking down a candle-lit aisle in a little chapel somewhere. But I was very, very careful not to look up at the altar to see who was there waiting for me. It wasn’t Charlie. It wasn’t.
“Oh my God.” Mia set her water glass down on the table with a thump, jolting me from my Dream Wedding to Not-Charlie. ?
?I just realized, I might be pregnant at your wedding. I won’t be able to drink. And what if I’m fat? I already ordered my dress!”
“Mia.” Coco gave her a look. “Give me a break. My wedding’s in three weeks. You’ll only be like ten minutes pregnant, you won’t be showing yet. You probably won’t show for another six months. And who cares about drinking? You’re having a baby.” She reached over, grabbed Mia’s neck, and shook her back and forth.
“OK, OK.” Mia laughed. “And don’t worry, we can deck your house out in all kinds of winter flowers, candles, greenery, and white lights for the reception. I have a vision.”
“I know you do. And I’m counting on it because I can’t be objective here, and I need you. RSVP’s are piling up, and of course, everyone can come. I think we’re going to end up with about eighty people.”
“That’s a nice number,” I said. “Not tiny, but not unmanageable.”
Coco looked smug. “I agree. I got my way with the guest list—no five hundred Italian cousins with all their screaming children.”
“Good. Now you.” Mia nodded in my direction. “Do you feel better now that your new floor is in at the studio?”
“Definitely.” But what really felt good was being pounded in the studio before the floor went in. Should I tell them? What would they say? Part of me wanted to put it out there for a fun discussion, but I didn’t want them to think I had a thing for him. Because I so didn’t have a thing.
