My legs were unsteady as I descended the stairs, and I held on tight to the railing. The voices from the kitchen and parlor got louder, and I admonished myself to put a smile on my face and act natural. Pull yourself together! You’ve missed pills before, right?
Yes, but never after having unprotected sex—or right before. I double whammied myself!
Nick double whammied me!
I reached the bottom of the steps and put a hand over my belly, praying—no, begging God—not to be pregnant. Then, plastering a smile on my face, I walked into the kitchen.
#
Nick’s family was surprised to see me again, but they were gracious and kind and made me feel welcome, as always. His mother in particular hugged me hard and said how nice it was to see me again. At dinner, I sat between Nick and his sister Katie, who’d recently gotten engaged and had a million questions about weddings. I tried to answer them all, but mostly I fretted about pregnancy and stuffed my face. Some girls, like Mia, can’t eat when they’re anxious about something, but not me. I gobble my way through anxiety like a lawnmower, and I fuel it with booze.
Setting my fork down with a clank, I reached for my wine. No, wait, I shouldn’t have alcohol, right? Fuck
I picked up my fork again, hoping no one noticed that I took not only seconds but thirds. In addition to what Nick and Noni cooked, everyone had brought a dish, and the counter was loaded with platters heaped with food. There was antipasto and Caesar salad and stuffed shells and linguine with arrabiata and grilled lamb with rosemary and braciole and bread—homemade loaves of Italian bread, golden and flaky on the outside, soft and white on the inside. It didn’t need butter but I slathered it on anyway, nearly moaning aloud at the first bite. Maybe I did, because while I was chewing Nick leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Wow. You eating for two?” He poked me in the side.
I froze, swallowed, and reached for my water glass without commenting. Without even looking at him.
“I’m kidding, Coco. I love your appetite. It totally turns me on.”
Not what I needed to do right now.
After dinner, we lit candles on the cake, sang to Noni, and I took a family picture with everyone standing around her. They had to squeeze in tight and I had to back way up to get all twenty-eight family members present into the frame, but I managed to get a decent one on Nick’s phone. A funny feeling came over me as I scanned their faces—if things had gone differently years ago, maybe I’d have been in the picture instead of taking it. Maybe I’d have been happy about a potential pregnancy instead of terrified.
Nick reached for his phone and handed it to Katie. “Hey, will you take one of Coco and me?”
“Sure.” She smiled at me. “How cute that you guys are back together again.”
“Oh, we’re not really tog— “ I started to say, but Nick put an arm around my shoulders and clamped a hand over my mouth.
“Thanks. We are cute, aren’t we?”
Katie snapped the shot just as I turned my head to glare at him, his hand still over my mouth. “Oops. Want another?”
Nick took the phone and burst out laughing. “No, actually. That’s perfect.”
#
Having to choose between a slice of Noni’s pie or Nick’s chocolate cake or his mother’s cannolis or any of the other treats laid out for dessert was pure torture.
“Go for the cake,” Nick whispered from behind me. “There’s only one and everyone will want a piece.”
I took a piece of cake, a napkin, and a fork and followed Nick into the parlor, where one of his aunts was pouring coffee. Balancing my cake plate on my knee, I nodded when she asked if I’d like a cup. Then I remembered.
“Oh, wait—is it decaf?”
She looked at me a little funny. “I think it is.
Should I make sure?”
“Uh, no. That’s OK. I’ll pass.”
She smiled and moved on to the next person, but she glanced back at me one more time. I pretended not to notice her gaze go to my middle, although it nearly made me want to cry. My throat squeezed shut.
Cake. Just eat the cake. Think about nothing but cake.
Actually, that was pretty easy to do, once I took the first bite. Nick’s chocolate cake was the kind of delicious that would make even those annoying people who say I’m not a dessert person trample old ladies and small children to get the last piece. The frosting—what the hell was in it? I’d watched him make it, hadn’t I? Was it vanilla? It tasted almost like a marshmallow but I hadn’t seen any marshmallows on the counter. And how did he get it to stiffen into those delightful little peaks that gave the texture a hint of a crunch?
Then there was the actual cake. I’d tasted the batter and thought that was orgasmically good, so I wasn’t surprised to discover it was even better baked and frosted. Plus every bite reminded me of Nick in the kitchen—and not just the sex. I loved sitting at the island and watching him work, loved how much he enjoyed it, how easy things had felt between us last night. Why did things have to be so complicated? Nick was like that miraculous pair of platform heels that somehow manages to be wickedly sexy and yet comfy too. Would I never have that sexy, comfortable feeling with anyone else? How cruel that it was our history giving our friendship that ease, and yet it was that very thing preventing me from trusting him.
But now there was a new wrinkle. If I was pregnant, Nick and I needed to have a pretty serious discussion about where to go from here. I wanted to know so badly, but it was too soon to take a test, wasn’t it? I had to wait until I missed a period, right? Quickly I counted the days—I should get my period on Tuesday next week. Maybe there was a test I could take a couple days early.