The restaurant doors open, and a party of ten walks in, saving me from further awkwardness.
Two hours later, we’ve just been through one of the busiest dinner rushes of the week when the squid I set down on table nine almost makes me dry heave. I haul ass to the staff bathroom before I puke all over my customers, and when my phone rings in my apron, I answer it while I’m still catching my breath.
“Oh good, you picked up. Listen ...” Clementine buzzes in my ear, while I’m still trying to keep from puking. “Do you mind if I borrow that blue sweater I love? You know, the one that I gave you? I have a date tomorrow night and let’s be honest, it won’t be long before you’re stretching it all out of shape anyway because of your ginormous baby belly.”
“Sure,” I whisper, aware I probably sound like a total creeper breathing heavily into the phone.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Whatever gave you that idea? I’m only sprawled on the bathroom floor at work trying not to puke up my guts.”
“Oh shit.”
“On the busiest Monday we’ve had all season.” I clear my throat and swallow hard. “With my boyfriend sitting at the back of the restaurant.”
“Oh,” she says, and I get the distinct feeling she’s taking a beat to really process that information.
“Yeah.”
“You’re gonna tell him, right?”
“I ...”
“Lo, you have to have a conversation about this. Tell me you’re not seriously considering letting him walk out of there without telling him he’s gonna be a baby daddy in another eight months’ time.”
I sigh. “I’ll tell him. Of course, I’ll tell him. I’m just not sure that right now is the time.”
“When will it be the right time, when your water’s breaking?”
“Point taken,” I say as if on autopilot. I know she only has my best interest at heart but ... yeesh. If I’d wanted a lecture, I would have called my mother—who, incidentally, doesn’t know I’m pregnant either. “I gotta go.”
“Okay.” She smacks her lips together and says, “Lo?”
“Yes, you can wear the blue sweater.”
“You’re the best.”
“Well one of us has to be.” I hang up the phone and steady my breathing, and then I exit the bathroom into the office, and run right into Arturo. He places his hands on my shoulders to stop me from stumbling into him.
“Everything alright?”
I glance up at him and do the most embarrassing, inconceivable thing ever. I burst into tears. “I’m pregnant.”
So much for keeping my job until I deliver.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Lo
Arturo stares at me with a blank expression and then his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Felicidades. Un bebe es maravilloso. Congratulations, Lo. We should celebrate, no?”
I cry harder. I don’t know why. I had no intention of telling my boss about my pregnancy. Not until I was showing, and certainly not until Gabe knew, but the dam bursts and I lose my shit completely.
Arturo pulls me against him and holds me tight. “Pequeña what is wrong? A bebe is good news, no?”
“I don’t know.” I sob against his white shirt, ruining it with my mascara, but I don’t care. “I haven’t told Gabe yet. He never wanted kids.”
“He loves you, Lo. I can see it in the way he looks at you. And why wouldn’t he? He’d be a fool not to.”