Page 92 of The Wedding Crush

Yeah, well, I’ll bet he’s bent over cackling today.

Earlier, I went to the drugstore.

For laughs, of course.

ANDto rule out one of my WebMD doom scrolling causes, since Aunt Flo has been here, done her thing, and left me still feeling queasy, and remembering every day of the morning sickness during my first trimester with Ace.

Such is life.

Turns out, I’m one of those early spotters, and my boyfriend of four days is expecting.

No, he doesn’t know it yet. I just found out myself. So, now, after giving him a hard time about being distracted at Wine-Down Wednesday, our highly anticipated drive in Sally and our afternoon visit to the county carnival with Ace, it’s tainted by my nerves.

I’ve got to tell him, but I can’t just blurt out, “Hey, I know we just made it official, but I’m pregnant. Oh, and by the way, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you, and I want to jump-start that future you were talking about.” Yeah, I’m sure that’d go over well.

Ugh.

A balloon pops at my side. I snap toward the dart game, scanning my surroundings.

All at once, the sounds of the carnival whirl around me—merry-go-round music, rides clinking and hissing, the chatter of the crowd.

The overwhelming scent of popcorn mixed with cotton candy stirs my stomach.

“That one! I want to ride that one.” Ace bounces up and down on his small double-knotted red Chucks, pointing to a giant, spinning windmill contraption in the sky that looks like something straight out of aFinal Destinationmovie.

Yeah, not today, Satan.

Not my baby.

“Oh, um…” I purse my lips, looking at that thing in sheer horror when I catch Stefano pantomiming height restrictions with his hand sliced over Ace’s definitely under four-feet eight-inches requirement. “Maybe in a year or two, big guy. You’ve got to grow a bit more for that one.”

Ace shrugs.

Relief, and perhaps that chili cheese dog I’m currently regretting, surge through me.

My stomach gurgles loudly.

Stefano winces, shielding his hand against the late afternoon sun dappled through the Ferris wheel beams. “Is it your stomach?”

You could say that.“Yeah, there’s a lot going on in there.”

“Have you thought about going to the doctor? You know, just in case it really is food poisoning.”

Shit.

A small laugh bubbles at the back of my throat.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“It’s a frog!”Not quite.Ace cheerfully points and announces to everyone in a ten-foot radius. Except, with his missing teeth, it sounds like:It’s a fraud!

Stefano throws back his head laughing.

Guilt curdles in my stomach.

At the same time, a collective wave of laughter pinballs between us and a handful of sugar-rushed, stuffed-animal-toting passersby with theiromigosh, isn’t he adorableexpressions.

Whispering, I tell Ace, “He’s in there lounging on a lily pad,” before I shake my head at Stefano.

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