“And how many of these people are actually important to you?”
“Let’s see… Abel, my mother, all the nuns at St. Martha’s Academy where I got most of my education, every boyfriend I’ve ever had—”
“Okay, okay.” I hold up my hand to stop her. “Everyone you know wants you to conform to their version of normal. Got it. You win.”
“Good.” I watch out of the corner of my eye as she bites her lip to fight off a smirk. This is good. It means she doesn’t hate my forthcoming nature any more than I hate hers.
“You know I like you just like you are, right?”
She doesn’t respond with words, but her smile finally breaks through. That’s all the response I need.
We get sucked back into whatever interview is happening. I have no idea who the celebrity is. There are so many these days I can’t always keep up with who is a runway model versus an Instamodel versus a model by default because their TikTok video went viral or whatever.
Plus, I’m too busy concentrating on the woman sitting next to me and what she smells like (lavender and some fancy lotion), what she sounds like (quiet breaths with the occasional deep sigh of contentment), and what her body feels like next to mine (exactly where it’s supposed to be). With as much as I’m trying not to watch her, it shouldn’t come as a surprise when she grabs my hand and places it on her belly, but it does.
Despite my shock, I use all my muscle control to keep from looking over at her. Somehow, I know she won’t like it if I act on my feelings. And I have a lot of feelings right now.
Instead, I settle my hand on her stomach, overly satisfied to get this close to my child even with the negativity blasting through the television. Abel can get the door when the pizza gets here. I’m busy bonding with my new family.
Chapter Eight
ROSALIND
I’m not sure what wakes me up bright and early this morning, but the pain in my back might have something to do with it. I desperately need a new mattress, but I don’t have the money for one right now. It’s not like I can find a comfortable position anyway. I’m normally a stomach sleeper, but that makes me even more uncomfortable. It feels like I’m lying on top of an egg, so I’ve been lying on my side which sucks. And the shitty part is, I’m not even all that pregnant yet! I don’t want to imagine how this is going to feel when I’m finally showing to the rest of the world, not just myself.
Groaning, I roll out of bed and try my best to stretch the kinks out of my body. I could really go for a spin around my pole, but the only one I’ve ever used is currently sitting idle inside a strip club a few miles away. Actually, based on the time, it’s currently in use by someone who probably isn’t as athletic or agile as I am. Was. Whatever.
I wish Bennie would let me in just to get a good workout, but that’s unlikely. Not that it’s a smart idea in my condition anyway. I’m already starting to feel a little off-balance from everything protruding out my front these days. At this point, mostly it’s my boobs, even my larger knockers are making me feel out of whack.
I sigh deeply and look out my small window. It’s not terrible living here. I miss my old place, but Joey’s apartment is nice, and he’s an okay roommate. He’s a little bit of a slob, but he’s always cracking jokes and is interested in my day. He isn’t into decorating, so he gave me free rein to change whatever I wanted to make me feel at home, which made me feel good. The only weird thing is he orders a lot of takeout. Considering what he does for a living and what he’s training for, I thought he’d be cutting every additive, preservative, GMO out of his body, especially with the competition that he won’t stop talking about coming up. I’m sure it’s coming. I suspect that will change since we’ll probably have to do more cooking if we’re going to save money for the baby.
Truly, I got lucky. As leery as I was at first, Joey is turning out to be the best kind of man. Not only is he ridiculously hot, which my body likes to remind me of nightly, he’s just kind. And he loves this baby already. That’s what every mother-to-be wants.
Unfortunately, I’m also hyperaware that it’s going to suck the first time he leaves to go on a date. I have to prep myself for that moment, though. Our living together is about taking care of our baby, not being romantically involved. And I know a man like him has more options than he can count. I just have to keep reminding myself that couples co-parent while dating other people all the time. I could have it so much worse than feeling jealous over whoever he decides to date. I’ll just have to focus on the good parts of our situation.
Overall, things seem to be shaping up nicely. The worst part of my new living arrangements is walking up two flights of stairs. I will never take an elevator for granted again. Even one of those scary ones that goes really slow and creaks the whole time.
The biggest problem on my plate right now…
I still haven’t told my mother. With Thanksgiving next week, I should probably let her know now. I could try to manipulate the situation and tell her this important information in front of others to help eliminate her making a scene, but I know my mother, not to mention the rest of the family, and it wouldn’t happen that way. The exact opposite is more likely.
Basically, my aunt Lucia and my nonna will join in as my mother rants about living in sin, and before I know it, they’ll be spraying me with holy water someone inevitably has stuffed in their giant purse, and then everyone will hit their knees with their rosaries in their hands. It sounds exhausting.
No, it’s a much better idea to do it by phone.
I pad my way through the living room, listening for any sounds of my new roommate. He mentioned something about going to the gym this morning to help set up some new equipment he was all excited about. I wasn’t paying much attention. My eyes started to glaze over when he started spouting off rotations and weight numbers. But that’s probably where he is.
I don’t mind the quiet. Joey doesn’t hover, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to make me breakfast instead of letting me do it on my own. He’s really nice that way. Or maybe he’s just trying to be heavily involved with this pregnancy. Either way, his chivalry is welcome. I’ve always said I’m a princess who deserves to be waited on, so I won’t complain if he’s decided to be my personal cabana boy, minus the cabana.
A large box with the local grocery store’s name printed on the side is sitting on the table. That’s curious. I didn’t think he had time to go shopping this morning. Peeking inside, I find a mostly empty box except for some dried foods, lollipops, and a bottle of prenatal vitamins.
Picking up a small sheet of paper, I read the note.
Joey,
I know you can’t cook and don’t have a lot of time anyway, so there are enough pre-made meals here to last you a couple of weeks, I hope. They are high carb, high calorie like we discussed for your training.
The ginger lollipops are NOT FOR YOU! They are for Rosalind. My new friend Vonda’s daughter is an ob/gyn at a fancy hospital in NYC and she says they help a lot of new moms through morning sickness.
Ohmigod. Is this from his mother? He told his parents about the baby? And they’re sending me gifts? My heart starts pounding as I continue reading.
The prenatal vitamins are also for her, which I shouldn’t have to tell you, but you are your father’s son, so I better make that clear. They’re the top-of-the-line brand with lots of folic acid and vitamin B, just like Vonda’s daughter recommended.
Good luck with your training. We’re so proud of you. And we can’t wait to meet Rosalind. You treat her like a princess, you hear me? Pregnancy is exhausting and she is the mother of my grandbaby!
Love you,
Mom
I drop the note, stunned at how kind her words are. I blink back tears as I think about how supportive she is. The woman doesn’t even know me, has never met me, and is already going into grandma mode. My hand instinctively covers my abdomen as I process this. This is what kind of mother I want to be. One that is encouraging and loving. But I fear I’m d
estined to be critical like my own mother. I know she loves me; she just has a hypercritical way of showing it. I can never meet her demands for perfection, and she has no problem reminding me of that regularly.
Then again, I don’t know what Joey told his parents. It’s possible he made me sound better than I am. Did he tell them how we met? Do they know this baby is a result of a one-night stand?
All the insecurities I usually push aside come rushing in as I take in this new information. It’s hard to digest that Joey’s family will do more than just tolerate me as the mother of this child. After all, when anyone else in my life has found out about my job, the judgement was pretty clear. Why would they be any different?
I do my best to dismiss the negative thoughts and focus on what I can—eating and calling my mom. If Joey’s parents know, it’s time for me to suck it up as well.
After a hearty meal of dry toast, which seems to be the only thing I can hold down these days, I realize I can no longer put off the inevitable. It’s time to call my mother.
I try to slow my breathing as the phone rings, just to keep my heart rate down. But I only have a couple of seconds before my time is up.
“Thank the Lord you’re okay. I have been praying for your safety every morning for the past week.”
I can’t help the snicker that comes out of me. “You always pray for my safety, Mom. Why is this week so special?”
“Don’t laugh at my beliefs, Rosalind. Someday you’ll get yourself right with God and have to spend way too much time in the confessional for it.”
Good thing she can’t see my eye roll.
“And don’t roll your eyes at me either.”
I look around the room, a little creeped out that she called me out. How does she do that?
“I’ve been trying to reach you for a week, but you suddenly stopped answering your phone.”
This is it. The moment I’ve been waiting for. Time to spill the beans. But I’m going to start with the good news first. “Sorry about that. I’ve been busy settling in at my new job.”
The phone goes quiet. It’s so silent I’m not sure if we got disconnected or she passed out.
“What do you mean by that?” she asks quietly. It’s like she’s afraid to use her normal volume for fear she’ll shatter the illusion of her dreams for me coming true.
“I mean I quit working at The Pie Hole.”
“Can you stop saying that name?” she interrupts, like I knew she would. Mona Palmer isn’t known for holding her tongue. “It’s so crass.”
“I didn’t name the place, Ma. Anyway, I’m not working there anymore. I’m doing housekeeping at this fancy gym. You probably heard of it. It’s called Weight Expectations.” I laugh lightly. “I’m actually working with Abel, which was a surprise to both of us.”
“Is this an April Fool’s Day joke?”
“It’s November, Mom.”
“You’re telling me you quit your job as a stripper and are now gainfully employed at a swanky exercise place, working alongside your favorite older cousin, who can keep you on the straight and narrow?” The Chicago accent is coming through loud and clear as she tries to wrap her brain around my news.
“That about sums it up.”
Things go silent again but not for long.
“Oh, thank the sweet baby Jesus! My prayers have been answered!” Her celebration is so loud, I have to pull the phone away from my ear to protect my own hearing. “Do you know how many candles your aunt Lucia and I have lit on your behalf?”
“I know. But there’s more.”
“I can’t even count how many. But it was so many Father Thomas had the fire department on speed dial.”
“That’s just nine-one-one, Ma.”
“He was considering buying some fancy non-toxic brand of candles to eliminate fumes, so he doesn’t get cancer.”
“Candles don’t cause cancer.”
“And a braided wick so it’s harder for them to catch the building on fire.”
Ohmygod she’s going to keep going forever.
“Mom!” I yell. “There’s more!”
Her rambling finally stops as she refocuses. “More than just a new job?”
I take a deep breath now that I feel like I’ve just run a race to stop her from going off the deep end. There’s no telling how it’s about to go once I tell her the rest.
“Yeah. I moved into a new apartment.”
“But you loved that little place in Hyde Park.”
“I know. But I got a sweet deal on an apartment owned by an elderly couple who lives on the first and second floors.” I haven’t actually met them yet. I waved once, but Joey has told me all about them, and I know it’ll endear my mother. “Plus, it’s closer to the gym and it’s got two bedrooms.”
“What a wonderful blessing! I hope you’re helping out those people as much as you can. You know Nonna can’t get around very well anymore. You could be very useful to them, especially if they don’t have any family nearby.”
“I will. They’re good people.” Or so Joey’s told me.
“And such a big place for just you.”
I grimace knowing it’s now or never.
“Well, it’s not just me.”
“Do you have a roommate? Oh no. You didn’t let one of your stripper friends move in with you, did you? You know old people aren’t as understanding of that kind of lifestyle as I am.”
It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud. I would hardly call her tolerant of my former job. But she’s still my mom and even if we don’t agree on, well, basically anything, I know better than to disrespect her like that.
So, I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly and brace myself to pull the phone away from my ear as soon as the shrieking begins again. “I’m living with a man.”
“You’re what!?!”
Yep. Just like I expected. Her question is more a demand to explain myself, so I do as quickly as possible.
“His name is Joey Marshall and he’s really nice, Mom. He’s a trainer at the gym I work at. Oh! He’s Abel’s best friend.”
“And Abel knows about this?”
Oops. I didn’t mean to throw him under the bus. But since she already knows… “He helped me move in.”
“What!?!” And the shrieking continues. “How could Abel do this to me? Helping my baby girl move in with a man!”
“Calm down, Mom. He did it as a favor to me.”
“And you better believe I will be having a conversation with his mother as well. Helping you live in sin! What a horrible thing for him to do.”
“Abel’s living in sin, too, Ma. I don’t think she’ll care.”
“He is a boy, Rosalind. You have virtue to protect.”
“And here we go,” I mutter. “I was a stripper for years, Mother. Pretty sure the virtue is gone.”
“Which is why you need to do everything in your power to protect what little is left. You don’t have any to spare.”
She continues to blather on about my soul needing cleansing and where she went wrong as a mother. I realize now is probably a good time to rip the final Band-Aid off. This conversation is giving me a migraine. “My virtue doesn’t matter anymore, Mom, because I’m pregnant.”
Her rambling dies off quickly and ends in silence. It’s eerily quiet. I don’t like it.
“I’m not sure I heard you correctly. Can you please repeat that?”
Oh shit. She turned on her customer service voice. I’m in so much trouble.
“I’m close to sixteen weeks pregnant. Due May fourth. We don’t know what we’re having yet and don’t know yet if we want it to stay that way. We’ll see. And I know it doesn’t thrill you that I’m an unwed mother, but it’s happening, and I need you to be happy for me. But if you can’t, at least don’t be sad because I could have had an abortion, but I didn’t.” I probably shouldn’t have thrown that last bit in, but what does she expect? I’ve spent my entire life with her making me feel the wrath of Catholic guilt. It rubbed off on me
.
“My baby is having a baby?” she says softly. Does she sound… excited?
Bewildered by her initial response, I can only think of one way to counter. “Uh, what?”
“My baby is having a baby!”
This is not what I was expecting at all. My mother, the first one to get to mass and the last one to leave, is excited and squealing and happy about this turn of events. I did not see that coming, and I admit, I’m a bit perplexed.
“Oh, Rosalind, I’m thrilled. Obviously, I need to pray for you to repent for having unwed sex, but babies are innocent of their parents’ sins and are a blessing no matter how they come into this world. Are you going to bring your new beau to dinner next week?”
I could correct her about Joey being my “beau,” but this is already going better than expected. No reason to jinx it. “I hadn’t planned on it.” For his own protection.
“No. That won’t work. You need to bring him. He’s part of the family now, and we need to get to know him. Make sure he’s going to raise this baby in the church.”
I hold up my hand even though she can’t see me. “Why do you need him for that? Can’t you ask me all those questions?”
“No. Because I usually don’t like your answers.” She’s got me there. “Bring your sweet Joey so he can get to know his new family.”
I snicker. “First, if I had to describe him, I’d say ornery is more accurate.”
I’d also say sexy-in-a-boyish-charm kind of way, but no way are those words coming out of my mouth right now.
She tsks. “Don’t speak of your child’s father that way.”
“And second, we’re not his family yet. The baby isn’t even viable at this point.”
“Rosalind! What a horrible thing to say about your child!”
“It’s science, Mother. It’s… you know what? It doesn’t matter. I’ll talk to Joey about coming for Thanksgiving, okay?” Not because I think he needs to be there. But because I’m going to enjoy all the focus being on him instead of on me. If he’s going to be part of this family like my mother says, he can suffer like the rest of us.
Weights of Wrath (Cipher Office Book 4) Page 7
