Page 79 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal
Friday morning found me hustling Mom and Frank toward Lou Mitchell's for breakfast, my stomach churning with anxiety about getting through the weekend without revealing too much.
The restaurant's heavy grease smell hit me the moment we walked in, and I had to grip the hostess stand to keep from doubling over.
"You okay, sweetheart?" Frank asked, his weathered face creased with concern.
"Fine. Just hungry." I managed a smile as we were seated in a booth by the window, the morning light streaming across red vinyl and chrome fixtures.
Mom immediately launched into her usual interrogation about my social life, and I suffered her politely because I knew she wouldn’t be around forever.
Besides, I missed her and having her here in town was special. I didn't want to upset her so I listened as she said, "So, tell me about this mysterious boyfriend you want to keep such a big secret. I read some rumors online…"
My blood turned to ice. "What?"
"Oh, you know how these gossip blogs are." She waved her hand dismissively while studying the menu. "Always speculating about successful young women and their romantic lives. Isaw something about your boss having a secret romance with someone at the company." When she looked up at me she wagged her eyebrows. "Is it you?"
Frank cleared his throat, shooting her a warning look. "Margaret, maybe we should focus on what we're ordering."
But Mom had never been one to let a topic go once she'd latched onto it. "I'm just saying, if there really is someone special, I'd love to meet him. You're twenty-six, Tessie. Most girls your age are at least engaged by now."
The familiar lecture made my chest tighten. If only she knew how complicated my situation had become, how the man I was falling for was twice my age, my boss, and completely unavailable for the traditional relationship she envisioned.
"I'm focused on my career right now," I said, the same response I'd given her a hundred times before.
"Career won't give me grandchildren, baby. I'm getting old." Her voice softened with the plea that always made my heart ache. "I'd like to see them grow up, you know?"
Nausea rolled through me, the way it had earlier this week, but stronger this time, and I pressed my hand to my stomach. Maybe I was getting sick.
The stress of keeping secrets, the constant anxiety about discovery, the physical exhaustion of stolen nights with Lucian—it was all catching up with me.
"Actually," I found myself saying, "I've been thinking about having a baby. Maybe through IVF."
The words seemed to zap the air between us, and I immediately regretted them. Mom's eyes widened with a mixture of shock and concern, while Frank looked uncomfortable with the intimate turn our conversation had taken.
"By yourself?" Mom's voice was careful, but I could hear the judgment underneath. "Tessie, that's so expensive, and raising a child alone?—"
Another wave of nausea rose, and I had to cut her off. "Sorry, Mom, but I have to pee… I'll be right back," I choked out, and then I rose and bolted from the booth toward the restroom.
I barely made it to a stall before my stomach rebelled, though nothing came up except bile. Gripping the cold metal walls, I tried to steady my breathing and figure out what was wrong with me.
At first I ran through the symptoms—fatigue, restlessness, nausea—then I counted the days of my cycle and felt confused.
When I emerged from the stall, my reflection in the bathroom mirror looked pale and shaken. I splashed cold water on my face, letting the coolness ground me.
The fluorescent lighting was harsh and unflattering, but there was something different about my face.
A fullness that had developed for a few weeks which I thought was due to water retention in my approaching period.
As I stood there staring at myself, a thought crept in that I immediately tried to push away. When was the last time I'd had my period?
We'd been so caught up in our nightly routine, in the intensity of our connection, that I hadn't been tracking the usual rhythms of my body.
But now, doing the math in my head, I realized I was at least a week late.
I felt a stupid grin crossing my face as I touched my belly and shook my head. It couldn’t be true already, could it?
We'd decided in August that we'd do this just the two of us, and it now being October, it meant it had only taken a month—if it was true.
I washed my face and straightened my shirt, but when I stepped out of the bathroom, Frank was standing there looking worried.
