Page 55 of Power Play Daddies
“I don’t know if I can convince them to switch to an online-first model, love, but if you’ve got an idea, now’s the time to sell it.”
“Yeah. I’ve done research on the way people are…” The wave of nausea hits hard and fast, cutting me off mid-sentence. I slap a hand over my mouth, eyes darting around for something, anything?—
Janice’s orchid vase.
I grab it, barely registering her sharp, “What the hell, Daisy?” before I’m throwing up into it.
My stomach twists painfully as I retch, and I think I hear her gagging behind me.
When it’s over, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and look up. Janice is standing, one hand over her chest, the other holding a tissue like it’s a lifeline.
Her expression is equal parts disgusted and concerned.
“Are you sick? Is it contagious?” she asks, stepping back like I’m radioactive. “I have a date tonight, Daisy. A date.”
“No,” I croak, taking the tissue she offers and wiping my mouth. “Not contagious.”
She sits back down, studying me like I’m a puzzle she can’t quite solve. “Food poisoning, then?”
I shake my head weakly. “Doubt it.”
Her eyes narrow, and then she tilts her head. “Are you pregnant?”
Pregnant? Pregnant?
My brain short-circuits. “What? No. There’s no way.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You’re sure? Because Stacy from my book club had the worst nausea in her first trimester. Said it came out of nowhere.”
There’s no way. I mean, right? My mind races.
It’s been a few weeks since Beau. But then there was Kieran. And Mason. And condoms. We used condoms. Every single time. There’s no way.
Janice is still talking, but I’m not hearing a word. My stomach isn’t the only thing flipping now.
“Anyway,” she says, snapping me back, “you’re doing great on the article so far. We can have a meeting and discuss your take on the digital idea before I can present it to the higher-upsand see what they think. For now, focus on the article… keep the momentum going.”
I blew it. My one chance and I fucking blew it.
I nod, standing on shaky legs. “Thanks, Janice.”
She waves me off, then points to the vase. “And take that with you. I don’t want it stinking up my office.”
Great. Nothing like walking through the newsroom with a puke-filled orchid vase. My legs feel like they’re made of spaghetti as I head back to my desk.
I grab my phone and call Logan. He picks up on the second ring. “That was fast. How’d the meeting end already? I’m still here, flirting with Charles.”
Charles was our very straight, very married, middle-aged front desk security guard.
“Are you getting me more ginger ale?” I ask, ignoring his question.
“Of course, love. I’ll be back in ten.”
I hesitate. “Can you… bring me something else?”
“Sure. What do you need?”
I lower my voice, suddenly aware of how loud the newsroom feels. “A pregnancy test.”
