by Sarah Kuhn
I was hoping it could also survive an unplanned pregnancy, me puking all the time, and him worrywarting constantly about my blood pressure.
“Truly, I’m fine,” I repeated, even as the room started to spin again. I breathed deeply, trying to calm any leftover queasiness. “I just got a little sick—”
“Hi, Nate!” Bea yelped from the phone screen, giving him a cheery wave.
“Beatrice.” Nate returned her grin, then whipped back to me, his brow furrowing. “Wait, what do you mean ‘a little sick’? Clearly you were sick enough to call Bea from the bathroom, which seems to indicate—”
“Aveda called her,” I said, pasting on my frozen smile and trying with all my might not to snap at him again. “Because she’s being a worrywart, just like you, hovering over me when I am totally fi—”
“Evie!” Now Lucy was bustling into the increasingly crowded bathroom, a vision in her tea-length lace wedding dress. Her tiny poof of a veil, attached to a hopelessly chic pillbox hat, twitched with distress. “Love, why didn’t you just say you were feeling poorly, we could have cut the toasts short! Rose’s brother has a penchant for nattering on anyway.” She knelt down next to me, squishing her minuscule frame between Aveda and Nate—neither of whom looked like they were in favor of being squished.
“Wow, Luce, you look so beautiful!” Bea exclaimed from the phone screen.
“Thank you, darling!” Lucy said, beaming. “Wait, Evie, why are you FaceTiming from this revolting bathroom?” She tilted her head at me. “How sick are you? We can get one of Rose’s SFPD colleagues to take you to the hospital, they have one of those special cars with the sirens and the lights so you can cut through all that hideous San Francisco traffic—”
“I. Am. Fine!” I spat out. I struggled to my feet, ignoring the chorus of protests that rose up around me (and the fact that there was so little space in the bathroom, I immediately banged my elbow against the wall). “I don’t need to go to the hospital. I don’t need a police escort. I don’t even need to take that medication when I get home because, news flash, I’m not going to die if I don’t take it, I’m just going to throw up a little. And anyway, I’m totally done throwing up for now.”
The room spun again and I swallowed hard, trying to ignore it.
“I think I want to walk home,” I said, striding toward the door, attempting to hold my head high and not let on that anything was wrong. “Alone,” I added hastily.
“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” Lucy said, her voice soft. “I know it’s not far, but—”
“The rest of you should enjoy the party,” I interrupted, stepping outside of the bathroom. “Enjoy your wedding, Luce! I just need to lie down.” I turned back to look at them, once again pasting the brightest smile I could manage across my face. “I love you all, but I need some fresh air and some quiet and none of you are great at providing . . . well, either of those things, but especially the second one.”
“Point,” Aveda said, giving me a half-smile. “This is where I give you space, right? Because you’ve requested the establishment of a boundary, and as your friend attempting to maintain our currently very healthy relationship, I must listen to you!”
“Exactly,” I said, managing to keep my smile plastered across my face even as another wave of excruciating nausea rolled over me.
It’s cool, I told myself. Just breathe. Walk. Keep walking. You’ll be fine. And maybe you should take that medication when you get home, actually.
I turned back around and took a step toward The Gutter’s exit.
That’s it, one step at a time . . . one foot in front of the other . . .
“Lucy!”
My meticulously careful step-taking was interrupted by Rose Rorick—head of the San Francisco Police Department’s Demon Unit and Lucy’s bride—as she hustled around the corner, nearly smacking into me. She looked sharp as ever in a perfectly fitting tux and shoes shined to maximum brightness. Scott Cameron—Aveda’s husband, my friend since childhood, and our resident mage—was right behind her.
“Oops, sorry, Evie.” Rose reached out to grab my elbow, steadying me. “I was just looking for Lucy, we have to do the cake—”
“Be there in a jiff, darling,” Lucy called out from the bathroom.
“And I was looking for Annie,” Scott said, craning his neck to try to see into the bathroom.
“Also here!” Aveda exclaimed. “And also will be out as soon as Evie, um . . .”
“Continues on her very empowering and healthy boundary-setting walk home!” Lucy declared with gusto.
Rose smiled at her, then turned back to me, her hand still on my elbow. “Are you all right?” she said, her gaze turning concerned as she studied my face. “You look a bit, ah . . .”
“Fine!” I chirped, making my smile so big, my cheeks hurt. “I was just about to head out, sorry I can’t stay for the cake. And Rose, you look absolutely—”
I never got to finish that sentence.
Because it was right then that I threw up again. All over Rose’s shiny shoes.
“You’re still glowing!” Aveda’s encouraging voice called out from the bathroom.
This time, I couldn’t muster the energy to give her a smile—not even a fake one.
And even if I had, my smile would have been completely destroyed by what happened next. I heard everyone’s phones beep—including mine. Then murmuring and rustling as people fished their devices from their pockets.
I would’ve fished mine out too, but I was very focused on not throwing up again.
“Oh . . . dear,” Aveda said, all traces of enthusiasm and encouragement evaporating from her voice. “Evelyn, I know you don’t always listen to me, but please listen to me now: do not look at your phone.”
MAISY KANE PRESENTS: BUZZ BY THE BAY
By Maisy Kane, Half-Demon Princess Editrix
Bonjour, my dearest readers! As you may have guessed, your pal Maisy was very busy today attending San Francisco’s wedding of the year!
Lucy Valdez, fabulous fight trainer to the city’s preeminent superheroine team, wed Rose Rorick, head of the SFPD’s Demon Unit. It was a glorious affair, the cascades of lily-heavy flower arrangements trying valiantly to hide the undeniable grunge of The Gutter—and mostly succeeding!
My lovelies, I truly hate to steal the spotlight from the brides, but I must confess something. I happened upon the most delicious news after the ceremony, and as an upstanding journalist, it is my duty to report it. You see, I noticed that fabulous superheroine Evie Tanaka—the maid of honor and a close, personal friend of mine—was looking a mite peaked. I also noticed she was drinking sparkling cider instead of the customary champagne. And the EVEDA hive knows that Evie and her superheroing partner, Aveda Jupiter, love to imbibe at every possible opportunity—those two never met a mimosa they didn’t like! Once her maid of honor toast was done, our dear Evie turned an absolutely violent shade of puce and made a run for the bathroom. I’ll admit, my reporter senses started tingling as soon as I saw what a voluminous, unflattering frock she’d chosen to wear for maid of honor duties—and now those senses were positively ablaze!
I spied Aveda—another close, personal friend of mine!—going after her, so I did what any good reporter (and friend!) would do and went to see if the dynamic duo was all right. As it turns out, they were having quite the moment and it all seemed rather private, so I stayed outside, ready to offer assistance to my two dear friends. I kept an ear pressed to the rather thin bathroom door, all set to pop in as soon as I was needed.
And that, dear readers, is how I learned the stunning exclusive news I’m about to share with you.
People of San Francisco, are you sitting down?
Evie Tanaka, our beautiful daughter of the city . . . is with child!
I know. I know. I’ll give you a moment to process.
I don’t know much more than
that since I wanted to leave my dear friends to their privacy—and your pal Maisy had to make sure she delivered this exclusive scoop to you immediately!
Now I know you’re wondering if I confirmed with Evie face to face. I considered it, as any true journalist would, but the simple fact is this: the news was surely about to break regardless, and I just knew Evie would prefer it if you heard it from a trusted friend, someone who wouldn’t try to cast this blessed development in a scandalous, gossipy light!
So please remember: even if you see this news elsewhere, you saw it here first!
One presumes the father is Nate Jones, Evie’s tall, dark, and broody beloved. Although . . . this news is quite unexpected, and I say that as one of Evie’s oldest friends. Perhaps there’s another twist on the horizon, eh?
Rest assured that your pal Maisy will be here with all the latest and greatest updates about the forthcoming superbaby! Don’t forget to like and subscribe, and please check out my Patreon and my podcast for special exclusives! I just added a Superbaby News Central tier, and I’m cooking up some amazing goodies for you!
Let’s all unite and show support for one of our fair city’s favorite daughters as she ushers in this all-new, all-amazing chapter of her journey!
Congratulations, Evie Tanaka! Your life will never be the same!
CHAPTER TWO
“GODDAMMIT, MAISY . . . REALLY? Even you’re usually not this weasel-y. And my maid of honor dress is not unflattering, it’s just a little loose!”
I tore off the offending garment, a fluffy concoction of yellow chiffon I had admittedly purchased two sizes too big just in case. Then I tossed it on the floor of my and Nate’s bedroom, trying not to fixate on the fact that I was talking to myself.
I supposed we should have known Maisy Kane wouldn’t settle for merely observing a wedding she hadn’t been invited to. The tenacious human-demon hybrid gossip blogger/lingerie shop proprietor was always causing trouble, rumor-mongering in the name of building her platform. And now she’d uncovered her juiciest rumor yet.
After we’d seen Maisy’s post, Team Tanaka/Jupiter had snapped into crisis mode. Lucy and Rose insisted on one of Rose’s Demon Unit colleagues driving me home in a squad car, sirens blazing. It wasn’t quite as embarrassing as the time in third grade when I’d ingested too much Gatorade during gym class and promptly pissed my pants during Math because the teacher was mean and I was scared to ask for a hall pass.
But it was perhaps a close second?
Of course, both Nate and Aveda had to come with me. And Lucy almost did, until I reminded her that she should probably stay for the rest of her own wedding reception.
Back at Tanaka/Jupiter HQ—a crumbling Victorian in the lower Haight where the team lived and worked—I scuttled up to my and Nate’s bedroom. After shucking off my dress and talking to myself for a bit, I took my anti-nausea and blood pressure medications and curled up in bed, prepared to spend the rest of the evening careening between wondering if I was about to throw up or just hungry or maybe both. My usual favorite foods—including my beloved Lucky Charms—currently made me gag, so it was always a toss-up.
I took a deep breath and tried to shove down the panic wriggling itself into a tight knot in my chest. The whole city knew I was pregnant now, and I was already envisioning paparazzi showing up on our doorstep, overzealous fans trying to ask me a zillion questions, and Nate’s worrywarting ratcheting up to eleven.
I heard Aveda and Nate talking downstairs in hushed tones, then in slightly more intense tones. They were probably arguing over who would get to come up and fuss over me. I was staying out of it. I’d have my fake smile ready to go whenever they sorted it out.
The knot in my chest tightened into a hard little ball. I pulled a pillow over my face and screamed into it, then attempted to go into the breathing I’d learned to stave off panic attacks. Big breath in through the nose. Hold it for three counts. Out through the mouth. Nice and slow. Steady, steady . . .
How had I spiraled into this stressed-out state?
When I first learned I was pregnant . . . well, I’d like to say it was just like I’d always imagined it, a beautiful moment of puppies and rainbows, lit in soft focus. But the truth was, I’d never actually imagined that moment at all.
For so much of my life, I’d been focused on survival. Keep Bea alive, make it to the next day, don’t destroy everything with your fire power. I’d only been snapped out of that pattern when my powers had refused to be tamped down and I’d been forced to take on the superheroine mantle. I’d learned how to let my emotions out—that doing this was actually healthy and fulfilling and wasn’t going to literally burn my entire world down. I’d found a purpose, protecting the people and the city I love. And I’d realized that maybe I could have a life that went beyond just surviving. I could finally believe I was going to make it past the next day—and the next and the next and the next.
Still, I’d never planned on falling in love or getting married or . . . any of that. I think I always felt, deep down, that I wasn’t meant to find those things, to be happy that way. Fantasies of that kind of future never even entered my brain space.
Then Nate happened.
We had a whirlwind courtship that started with sex, progressed to love, and culminated in him proposing after we’d only been together for four months.
When he sank to one knee in front of me, it was right after Aveda and I had taken down another demon threat. My cheeks were flushed from the heat of battle, my heart was pounding with amped-up adrenaline . . . and all of a sudden this big, beautiful man who’d captured my entire heart was presenting me with a sparkly ring and the promise of a lifetime together.
For once, I hadn’t tried to tamp down anything. I’d let the overwhelming surge of emotions sweep me away. I’d known immediately, in my deepest heart of hearts, that this was right.
And I’d said yes.
Aveda had asked me later if I was sure. She wanted to make sure I wasn’t being totally consumed by something I wasn’t really thinking through. But honestly, that was the best part. For the first time in my life, I didn’t have to overthink every possibility, worry my way through all possible tangents, and question whether or not I was making a mistake. I felt that yes more deeply than I’d ever felt anything. I just knew.
We’d been together for five years now, and I loved him more fiercely with each passing day, month, year. We’d talked about kids over the years—but it was always in a sort of abstract way, as if we were discussing something that was way, way in the future. We were both interested, but we also had reservations. Neither of us had great parental role models. I’d already spent most of my twenties raising a surly tween/teen.
We’d both been through a lot, we were both a little broken, and we’d had to fight hard to be together. Finding each other felt like such a miracle, I think we were scared to do anything that might disrupt that.
And as the years went by, my superheroing schedule with Aveda only seemed to get busier, more taxing, and more dangerous. The thought of having a baby always seemed to drift to the background.
Especially since I wanted to be really and truly prepared. All of my other big life moments had been wild and sweeping and unexpected, altering my personal world in a matter of seconds. This would have to be different. It wasn’t something I took lightly, and I didn’t want to be like my dad, abandoning his kids and fucking them up because he just couldn’t deal.
But when it actually happened . . . well, I can honestly say I was not prepared at all.
I was on birth control, and my period was late. My period is usually like clockwork, but I gave it a few extra days. Then a week. Then two weeks.
When it had been absent for three whole weeks, I took a test.
I didn’t tell anyone I was taking the test. I was still imagining that it was a false alarm, that my period was just being shy and would probably arrive as soon
as I peed on the stick. Team Tanaka/Jupiter always had so much going on, and I didn’t want to add another possible bit of chaos to the hurricane—especially if it ended up being nothing.
Standing over the cracked porcelain of the clawfoot sink in one of Tanaka/Jupiter HQ’s charming, tiny bathrooms, staring at that little piece of plastic . . . I honestly wasn’t sure how to feel. I didn’t know which way I wanted it to go. I wondered if my ambivalence meant I didn’t want this, that I was only comfortable with it in the abstract, that this was my sign that Nate and I should forego kids and spend the rest of our days just being thankful we’d found each other . . .
Then, like magic, those two little lines appeared.
And I burst into tears.
I dropped the stick in the sink and collapsed to the floor, bawling my eyes out. That was how Nate found me.
“Evie?” he said, crouching down in front of me. “What’s wrong?”
I was crying too hard to answer, so he’d simply gathered me in his arms and held me close, his lips brushing against my hair.
This was one of the things I loved most about him. He had the most gruff, grumbly exterior and his words were never something one would deem mushy. But once we’d decided to be together, he was all in. He never wavered, he gave his heart so fully, and he never hesitated to show me how much he loved me, in ways that were immediate, selfless, and so tender they brought tears to my eyes. If I hurt in any way, he only wanted to make it better, however he could.
Considering that he’d never really experienced love before, that his only family was an evil demon mom who wanted to hurt him . . . that felt like an extra miracle. I could never stop marveling at how deeply he loved, how he went all in without hesitation.
