by Sara Celi
Nothing. Probably nothing.
“Was the rest of your day busy?” he asked.
“Not any more than when you saw me.” I dumped a large serving of guacamole on one of the unused plates and added some chips. “So, this passes for a big night out in Watch Hill. Just wait until The Sleigh Bells show up.” I raised an eyebrow. “They are something else.”
“A little bit intense,” Molly added. “You’re definitely going to remember them.”
“But not as good as the bands you find in DC.” I smothered a large tortilla chip in the chunky dip. “Way more amateur than that.”
“I’m looking forward to it. I really could use something different.” Ian leaned forward, his eyes piercing mine and causing my stomach to twist in a way it hadn’t since Halloween weekend, the last time I’d seen him. “Something unique.”
“Oh, you’re going to get that.” Molly nodded at the staff entrance and exit on the side of the bar. “That’s the lead signer now.”
It didn’t take The Sleigh Bells long to set up their five-piece set. As we watched, we ordered a fresh round of food—a pizza, a beer for me, and some Cajun popcorn. I had to hold myself back in the sake of being polite.
As the band did their final soundcheck, a slow rumble of anticipation floated through the now full bar. People were ready for this eclectic mix of carols and rock; I had to admit I was, too. Then Molly insisted Ian get a closer look at the band by sitting in the chair next to me.
“All right.” Ian took the empty seat a few seconds before The Sleigh Bells began a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells” mixed with a classic 1980s hairband song I couldn’t quite place. “This better be good. It’s hard to make a combination like this work.”
“They started the band as a joke a couple of years ago. They were supposed to play at the Watch Hill tree lighting ceremony, and the carolers who were also hired all got sick with the flu at the last minute. So, they stepped in for an impromptu set of holiday songs.” I nodded at the band, now in full swing with a tambourine, backup singers, and an elf going crazy on the drums. “And now we have this mess.”
“I kind of like it.” Ian moved to the music, tapping his feet. “They’re going for a whole schtick here, and it works.”
“Just as long as they don’t start singing “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas”.” I wrinkled my nose. “That one gets me. It’s too sad.”
“Agreed. I never thought that one was good. Too much downbeat.”
Ian swayed some more and I noticed how the low light of the bar reflected in his bright eyes. If he lived in Watch Hill or even greater Cincinnati, I’d probably have a huge crush on him. But he didn’t. He lived ten hours away in a city full of driven overachievers. I needed to push whatever budding feelings I had for him aside.
Immediately. Long distance didn’t interest me at all.
We settled in and enjoyed about fifteen minutes of the set before Ian suggested a round of limoncello at the end of “Little Drummer Boy”. Molly didn’t hesitate to agree, and soon the waitress placed a trio of small glasses in front of us. Ian lifted his.
“To the end of the year, and some interesting music.”
“To the end of the year,” Molly and I repeated before we clinked our drinks with his.
I took a big sip of the limoncello, letting the sugary liquor rush into my mouth despite knowing the beverage deserved to be sipped. I couldn’t resist.
And then it hit me.
A wave of nausea rushed over my body as my stomach lurched and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. I’m going to throw up. “Excuse me,” I said, the limoncello turning metallic and almost tasteless in my mouth. “I’ll be right back.”
I rushed through the dining room and into the women’s bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I vomited up all that I had just eaten, dry heaving by the end. As a kid, throwing up terrified me; I always had a vision that I’d end up losing my insides from the force of it. It felt gross and uncomfortable, and I hated it.
This time was no different.
A knock came at the stall door. “Are you okay?” a woman I didn’t know asked.
“Yeah, I will be,” I croaked, my throat burning as tears sprang into my eyes. “I just need a minute.”
The woman asked once more and I insisted that I was okay, even though I felt anything but. Once alone, I braced my hand on the stall wall and willed myself to feel better. I didn’t. A few deep breaths didn’t help. Neither did some quick mediation, the kind I’d learned in college when I had trouble coping with stress. No matter what I tried, I still felt like I was going to puke up my guts.
When I finally emerged from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later, I staggered toward the table, the remix of “O Tannenbaum” being sung by The Sleigh Bells pounding in my ears.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry,” I managed as Ian sprang to his feet, almost knocking his chair to the floor as he did.
“You look awful,” he said. “You’re as pale as snow.”
“I’m just . . .” As I looked at him, and then Molly, my vision blurred. “I need to go home. I think I might have a stomach bug.”
“You look terrible.” Molly also stood from her chair. “I don’t think you should drive.”
“No,” Ian agreed. “You shouldn’t.” He glanced at his cousin. “I can take her home, and then come back here.”
“What about my car?”
“You can get it tomorrow.” Ian snapped his fingers. “How about this—I’ll drive you home in your car and then call for a ride back here. What do you think, Molly?”
“That’s fine with me.” Her eyes were wide, and she remained focused on me. “The band will be playing for a while, and she doesn’t live far.”
“Good.” Ian sounded more resolved, as if the decision had already been made. “So, it will take me, what, less than twenty minutes? Perfect.” He turned to me. “I want to make sure you’re okay, and that you get home safely.”
“Okay,” I replied, too exhausted to resist. I was already dreaming about my warm bed and the sleep I sorely needed. “Let’s go.”
Somehow, I found my way to the parking lot and my car, parked a short distance from the restaurant. If I wasn’t sick, I would have been embarrassed, but the sloshing in my stomach stopped me from caring. I told Ian several times on the way to my house how much I appreciated his efforts, and he replied every time that it wasn’t a big deal. Soon, he pulled my car onto the gravel driveway of the small Tudor revival I purchased the year before I took over Already Perked.
“This is your place?” He shifted from drive to park, then turned the engine off. “It’s really cute.”
“Thanks. It’s the first thing I’ve ever truly owned. I bid on it back when I still had my old job after finding it one day on the MLS listings. I always thought I’d move to Watch Hill, but it was years earlier than I expected. Sort of an impulse buy, but I’m glad I did it.”
I sent up a silent thank you that I’d forced myself to decorate for Christmas, getting up on the ladder to string lights along the lower gutters and then around the front doorway. From the street, the house looked cozy. Warm. I bet my bed is all those things, too.
“It’s getting cold. Let me help you get inside,” Ian insisted. “You really don’t look well.”
“No, I—”
“Let me. Please.”
He scrambled out of the driver’s seat and helped me out of my car. I was too weak to protest much as he fumbled for my house key, unlocked the door, and led me into the small living room. I kept thinking about the shower I needed to take, and the sleep that awaited me.
“I really appreciate this,” I told him as he helped me sit down on the leather couch. He backed away and went to the ottoman instead of sitting next to me. “You didn’t have to do it.”
“I wanted to. What are friends ...”—a nervous laugh escaped his lips— “anyway, yes. I wanted to make sure you got home safely.”
“It’s been good seeing you aga
in,” I admitted. “I wasn’t sure it would be.”
“Me either.” A smile pulled at Ian’s lips. “We had a fun weekend, didn’t we?”
“Best trip I had all year.” The only one, in fact.
“It was a memorable time. I’m glad you were there.”
An awkward moment passed between us as we stared at each other.
“This is probably just a stomach bug,” I tried. “Once I sleep it off, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” Ian took his phone from his pocket. “If you’re sure that you’re okay, I’m going to call myself a car.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want you to miss any more of The Sleigh Bells.”
Ian’s grin turned into a laugh.
FIVE
JESSICA
I should have felt better.
Instead, I woke up feeling the same. Even after nine hours of decent sleep underneath my warm, fluffy duvet, I woke up around seven still feeling that something wasn’t right. I lay in bed for a while and stared at the ceiling, the generalized malaise washing over me.
No, something isn’t right at all . . .
I bolted out of bed and into the bathroom. Maybe I had something that would help settle my stomach and take away what was fast becoming an ever-present nausea. Whatever remedy I used, it needed to work. No question. I yanked open my medicine cabinet. I don’t have time for sickness. This was the holiday season for goodness sake, and we only had a few more days at Already Perked to make it a successful year. Besides, December was one of our biggest months, full of impulse orders from shoppers stopping at the café after time spent in the stores around Watch Hill’s central square. I couldn’t afford to miss out on any of it.
But as I considered all of that, another wave of nausea hit, and I steadied myself with my hand on the sink. That was weird, too—all the food I’d eaten the night before had already come up in the restroom.
Odd.
I dug through the shelves looking for something to help me. Aspirin . . . some cough syrup . . . an ancient jar of overpriced face lotion . . . a pregnancy test. Stopping short, I took that out and examined it. Hmm.
I wasn’t on birth control pills, but I always made a point of practicing safe sex. That had always been a priority. Besides, my love life wouldn’t exactly make other people jealous. Except . . .
I dropped the pregnancy test in the sink as if it had suddenly become as hot as a tray pulled out of the oven. No. No way. This isn’t it, is it?
It could be, though. I thought back to my last period. No, I hadn’t exactly kept up with that either, and I couldn’t remember the start or finish dates. It wasn’t long ago, though. Not . . .
I picked up the test again. What would it hurt if I took it? At least I’d know the answer for sure and could eliminate that possibility. And if I didn’t feel better in the afternoon, then I’d be able to tell the doctor that I’d already ruled out pregnancy as a reason for not feeling well. No big deal, right? No big deal at all.
Gritting my teeth, I opened the cardboard box.
Five minutes later, I had my answer. Two undeniable pink lines stared back at me. Their message was clear, and there was no way anyone could miss it.
I was pregnant.
SIX
IAN
“We should check on Jessica,” I told Molly over the breakfast of fluffy pancakes, bacon, and eggs Aunt Eliza insisted on whipping up the following morning. The way she was feeding us, I was going to gain a few pounds on this trip. Still, I didn’t want to resist. The best holidays always included great food, and Aunt Eliza could have written her own cookbook on December entertaining. I speared some of the eggs with my fork. “She seemed really sick last night.”
“You’re right. It sucks to be sick over the holidays, and besides, she can’t afford that right now.”
“I am so glad she took over that business, it would be a shame to have it shut down for good. That shopping center wouldn’t have been the same without a coffee shop.” My aunt sat down at the kitchen table opposite me. “You both should see if she’s okay.”
“We probably should. I want to do some shopping today, too,” Molly grinned. “I still have a few things on my list to buy. Not many, but a couple.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said. “And then let’s stop at the coffee shop on the way home and see if she’s there.”
“Great.” My cousin looked at her watch. “Let’s go after breakfast.”
Molly’s insistence that she needed only a few things on her list turned into a shopping spree that lasted half the day. She was a sucker for sales, and her end-of-the-year bonus for clerking at the McAllister Law Firm downtown had just hit her bank account. She wanted to spend, and she did, stopping by one store after another until the purchases loaded down her trunk.
We didn’t stop by Already Perked until late afternoon. When we walked in, a long line of customers wanted happy hour drinks and spiked coffees from the limited alcohol menu the restaurant served. Molly and I took spots at the back of a line twelve customers deep.
“You should try the Mexi-Cocoa,” Molly said. “It comes with a shot of spiced liquor that makes it taste amazing.”
“I’ll remember that.”
I surveyed the café menu, admiring the selection and deciding to order something different than the black coffee I’d requested at my previous visit. Unlike then, I wasn’t here for only the caffeine jolt. Besides, I’d heard enough raving to know this might be the coffee shop that converted me to more exotic drinks.
“Is Jessica here?” Molly asked when our turn to place an order finally came and she’d requested two large Mexi-Cocoas. “We were hoping to see her.”
“She’s in the back. Let me get her.”
The barista walked to what I assumed was an office area next to the kitchen. When he emerged, Jessica was a few steps behind him. She looked somehow thinner than when I’d dropped her off at her house, her hair dull and her eyes wide.
“How are you feeling?” Molly asked as the barista worked on our drinks. I wondered why she felt the need to ask. I knew the answer just by looking.
“Better.” Jessica frowned. “Still sick, but better.”
“Are you sure that you should be at work?”
“I don’t have any choice.” Jessica shrugged and looked away. “This is our busiest time of the year. Besides, it’s probably only food poisoning, not anything contagious.”
“That’s good, although food poisoning is the worst. I had a bad case of it last year,” my cousin said. “Almost caused me to miss my trip to Hilton Head. You didn’t miss much last night, by the way. Just some bad karaoke. The lead singer brought a couple of people from the audience up on stage, and they embarrassed themselves singing “Baby It’s Cold Outside” and a few others.”
Jessica grimaced. “I hate that one.”
“Yep,” I agreed, injecting myself into the conversation for the first time. “That’s one of the worst ones. I have no idea why people still bother singing it.”
Jessica blinked at me. “Thanks again for the ride. It was great to have the help.”
“Anytime.”
As I studied her across the baked goods display case, I noticed once more how beautiful she was, even when she didn’t feel well. Darn it, why does she have to live three states away? If Jessica lived anywhere near DC, things would be totally different between us. I’d have asked her to dinner by now; I wouldn’t have limited our interaction to one breathless weekend. We’d have been . . . more.
Too bad.
“We should have dinner,” I suggested, blurting it out in a way that surprised me. “I know I’m only in town a couple more days, and tomorrow is Christmas Eve, but . . . we should have dinner.”
Jessica gave a weak smile. “We should.”
Molly chuckled. “Oh, here we go, I should have seen this coming.”
“How about the 26th?” I didn’t care that my cousin was hearing all of this. “Seven?”
“The day after Chris
tmas. That will work.” She braced herself against the beveled glass. “Hopefully I’ll feel better by then. I’ll see you at seven.”
“It’s a date,” I said.
SEVEN
JESSICA
I should have said no.
Having a fancy dinner was the last thing on my mind when it came to Ian. What I needed to do was figure out a way to tell him I was pregnant, and that our one-night stand over Halloween weekend had ramifications for both of us. I’d spent most of the afternoon trying to come up with a decent and reasonable way to break the news.
But I’d come up short.
And I’d been unable to resist the temptation when he’d asked me out and unable to say no when he texted me on Christmas Eve about a reservation he’d made at Neptune. It was one of the nicest restaurants in downtown Cincinnati and specialized in tapas and drinks with complicated names. By the time he picked me up at seven on the day after Christmas, the last two days had passed in a blur. I’d hardly been able to sleep or eat. On Christmas day, I joined my family for our usual dinner and present exchange, but I felt fake and insincere about what was going on. I didn’t know how to tell them. I didn’t know how to tell anyone.
Being pregnant with the baby of a guy I hardly knew simply felt strange.
“You look stunning,” he said when I answered the front door, his eyes taking in the silver knit dress I’d pulled from the back of my closet. It threaded the line between casual and formal, and I paired it with red heels and a small crocodile clutch. As Ian spoke, it occurred to me that I wouldn’t be able to fit into the dress much longer.
Don’t think about that.
“You have good taste,” I said instead. “The New York Times said Neptune is one of the top restaurants in the Midwest.”
