“Like I want a goddamn drink.”
“Okay, bad example.” She puffs out a breath that forces her bangs to ruffle. “I thought you said he was pushing for the two of you to be more?”
“He is.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Um ... how about that I’m pregnant and Gabe doesn’t want kids? Have you not been listening to a single word I’ve said?”
“And neither of you thought about this in the heat of the moment?”
“How should I know?” I demand, getting to my feet and pausing in front of the mirror.
“I don’t know, maybe because you were there and let him blow his load inside you. More than once.”
“I’m on birth control.”
“And you’d also been on antibiotics the week before that. Not to mention all the venereal diseases he could have given you.”
“Says the woman who’s sleeping with the guitarist on tour.”
“Hey, you slept with the biggest ho in that band.”
“Yeah, and he cheated on me with a groupie.”
“I’m not the one who’s pregnant,” she snarks.
“I know.” I scowl at her in the mirror. “It was stupid, and now I’m paying for it.”
“You want me to call Arturo, tell him you can’t come in today? We could Netflix and chill?”
I raise a brow.
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Netflix and no chill. I’m not fucking you. No matter how horny you get during this pregnancy.”
“Gee thanks. And no.” I shake my head and pull my toothbrush from the cup. Then I smother it in toothpaste and brush as I talk. “I gotta go to work. Baby’s gotta eat, and those prenatal vitamins cost an absolute fortune.”
“You’re gonna have to tell Art soon, you know? You can’t keep running to the bathroom between customers and puking up your guts without him finding out.”
“I know, just ...” I shake my head and spit out the paste. Then I pick up a tube of liquid lipstick, smoothing the doe-foot applicator across my lips. The sweet, vanilla scent turns my stomach, and for a moment I think I might puke again, but I close my eyes and breathe deeply. When I open them again, my bright red pout seems to make the bags under my eyes look like a distant memory. “I need this job. Babies are expensive as shit.”
She smiles. “There goes your 401k.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Lo
Ionly have to work the dinner shift tonight, but that doesn’t mean I get to sleep in, because I’m puking up my guts at eight a.m. like all good pregnant folk at ungodly hours of the morning. I brush my teeth and shower, and then I pad from the bedroom into the kitchen, so I won’t wake Gabe. Given that he sleeps like the dead, my sneaking around is more than likely pointless, anyway.
I rifle through the cupboards but find them empty of the two things I need to start my day: Saltines and Easy Cheese.
I grab my keys and wallet and pull on some Chucks and head for the mini-mart on the corner. Once inside the store, I bust into the goods before I’ve even reached the counter.
“Er ... lady. You can’t do that,” the acne-prone, pockmarked face of a stingy white kid calls from the counter.
I hold up a finger to tell him to wait while I load up another Saltine. I can’t speak, because I’ll likely just puke again unless my stomach gets sustenance like ... yesterday. “You can’t keep coming in here and eating the stock without paying first. I’m gonna call the cops.”
I spray a little more cheese into my mouth and close my eyes as the salty goodness hits my tongue.