Everything Unexpected (16 page)

My hand rests against my stomach.

Almost alone.

I walk past a few other bars on my way, hear the laughing, see the drinking, witness the dancing.

Enjoy it while it lasts
, I want to yell. Before you know it, it’s gone and not about to come back any time soon.

I make one stop along the way at the corner store not far from my apartment. I’m so depressed I don’t even feel guilty about the large bag of salt and vinegar chips and four chocolate bars I place on the counter. The young cash attendant stares blankly at me and it only causes me to add to the pile.

Why not add some licorice? My pants already don’t fit.

When I get home, I peel off my jeans and quickly throw on a pair of sweat pants and an oversized t-shirt. My boobs feel immediate relief as soon as I take my bra off. I pull my hair up into a knot on top of my head and head to the couch with all my snacks. I turn on the television and start streaming an old
Friends
episode. I know exactly which one I want to watch.

I’m roughly ten minutes into the show and well into the bag of chips when there’s a knock at my door. I look down at my shirt, at the grease stains from where I just wiped my hands. I’m not sure what’s worse—how much of a slob I know I look or that I don’t even care. I debate whether I should answer the door when another round of knocking starts, this time followed by a voice.

“Comb? It’s me,” Shane’s voice carries through the door.

I put the bag of chips down on the coffee table and pause Ross and Rachel on the screen. I open the door to find Shane and his concerned expression.

“Holly said you just got up and left. Are you okay?”

I nod, opening the door further to let him pass. He walks in and turns, his expression unchanging.

“I was just tired. Kind of hits me out of nowhere these days.” It’s not an untrue statement but in this case, a lie. I make my way back to the couch and sit, hugging a throw pillow to my body. “You didn’t have to come over. I told Holly I was fine.”

“Why didn’t you tell
me
you wanted to go home?”

I shrug. “You were busy talking to someone. I didn’t want to interrupt,” I say as nonchalant as I can. I look back to the television screen, to my open window, to the half-eaten chocolate bar. Anywhere but him.

“You wouldn’t have.”

I bark out a laugh.

He laughs too, taking a seat beside me. “Really. I worked with her on a shoot before. I was just saying hi.”

Seeing Shane talking to that girl upset me, but it’s the why that’s bugging me. I’ve never been jealous of
any
girl, including the ones Shane has given attention to. Hell, I’ve even been his wing woman from time to time. But things are different now and my reactions are obviously not the same. I blame it on the hormones.

Shane reaches for the bag of chips and starts snacking on them. His eyes squint as he reads the flavor on the package. It might also be because of the extra vinegar I poured directly into the bag. He glances down to the half-eaten chocolate bar but doesn’t say anything. He just sits and continues chewing on the somewhat soggy chips before offering me some with a smile.

I take the bag from him and grab a handful. “You could have stayed you know. Had some drinks. Hung out,” I say before putting them all in my mouth.

“Nah,” he says leaning back against the couch, turning his head towards me. “My two favorite people are right here.”

I swallow the chips, feeling their rough texture scratch their way down my throat, not having chewed them enough. The reference to the
two
of us blindsiding me—causing my chest to now ache along with my throat. I reach for my bottle of water, chugging large gulps, watching him as he grabs for the remote, unpausing the show. After a few seconds of watching, he grins.

“We’ve seen this episode a thousand times,” he says.

I blink twice before turning my attention back to the screen, trying to ignore how his words are still affecting me. The show comes into focus and I smile a little because it’s true. I have made him watch this episode a thousand times.

“I know.” I hug my pillow tighter, keeping my eyes to the screen. “But it’s the best one. He’s her lobster.”

AS HE THRUST his overjoyed member into her virginal garden, moans of joy, cries of newly attained womanhood reaching his ears. Never was another going to replace him, his body, or his giving of pleasure to her. She was his forever.

Who reads this crap?

Then, as if on autopilot, I turn the page and continue reading about Almonte and Gwendolyn. About their undivided, unabashed and now forever giving of pleasure, love. Am I ashamed to be reading this? Yes. Am I even more ashamed to be reading this at my desk over lunch? I can’t stress how much.

But at least now I know it’s not my fault. Now I know if I were in my right mind, I wouldn’t be hiding in my office, with my door closed, reading smut. If I were in my right mind, I’d take the hour to go look at shoes at the boutique around the corner, or go to the café with Holly down the street. There’s also a huge possibility I’d be nose deep in the files that are currently piling up on my desk. The ones that have been waiting to be referenced and chronicled for my boss who will be back from court by end of day. But because I now know I’m
not
in the right mind, I continue to sit with my eyes roaming over the words of this book, turning the pages fervently, needing more.

Fucking hormones.

I know so. I’ve researched it.

Libido Increase. Increased Sex Drive. First Trimester All-time High
.

Google spitting out the same answer over and over. Countless websites all telling me the same thing.

That I’m knocked up and horny as hell.

Instead of finding advice on how to diffuse the situation, every website all had the same thing to say.

“
Enjoy it!”

Enjoy what exactly? Enjoy sitting uncomfortably? Being woken up in the middle of night panting because your body is screaming for sex? Stirring in bed, hitting your pillow over and over, praying for your uterus to calm the fuck down? Knowing that these are prime sex times for me and I’m missing out? Fuck all those websites. Isn’t simply being pregnant enough? We need to add sexual frustration to the mix?

I pull my hair back and tie it up in a ponytail. Cool air hits the back of my neck and it’s a small relief from how worked up I’ve become. I turn the page and accept the cheap thrill Almonte is giving me.

Holly walks in without knocking, her hands carrying paper bags full of take out.

“I brought lunch—” she starts, but halts when she sees me quickly shove my grocery store read in the top drawer of my desk. “What was that?” she asks, her interests piqued, lips forming a sly grin.

“Nothing,” I say, slamming to drawer shut. “What did you get?” I point to the takeout, my focus switching to the aromas coming from the paper bags. The only thing that seems to get my mind off of sex these days is food.

Holly walks over to my desk and drops the bags in front of me.

“Oh just a few of your favorites. Chicken parmesan, Caesar salad, garlic bread.” My tummy grumbles just hearing the words. I go to grab one of the bags when Holly swipes it from me first.

“Oh you can have it,” she taunts. “But first, let’s see what you’re hiding in there.” Her head tilts to the side, one brow pointed.

“Nothing important,” I say.

“Then why are you hiding it?”

I stare at her, unmoving.

“Why is your face red?” she continues, her eyes now glaring.

“It’s not,” I argue.

She leans in over my desk domineeringly. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She stands back up straight, unpacking the takeout. “Grab two waters from your fridge, would you.”

I walk over to the corner of my office to the little bar fridge I have there and grab two water bottles.

“AH HA!”

I turn quickly to find Holly holding my book of smut in her hand with a proud grin on her face.

“Good for you. You found my big dark secret,” I say with sarcasm, walking back to my desk and taking the book from her.

“I had no idea this was the type of reading required of you here,” she teases.

“Laugh all you want. Go on, get it out,” I tell her, opening my container of food. If I’m going to be humiliated and ridiculed, I might as well have a mouth full of garlic bread to help swallow it down with.

Holly grabs the book off the top of my desk and sits in a chair, flipping through the pages. Unable to watch her scan through the story, I concentrate on the food in front of me, cutting huge pieces of chicken and stuffing it into my mouth.

“Whoa,” she starts to laugh. “This is…” She reads a few more passages, then snorts. “Thunderous member? Why are you reading this?”

“Diminished capacity,” I say, my mouth too full.

“You’ve committed a crime?” Holly raises her brows.

“I’m reading that, aren’t I?” I answer, my eyes glancing down at the book.

“No laws broken there. These books do very well for themselves. And wonders for their readers apparently,” she says, mocking me.

I stuff another large bite into my mouth, busying myself with chewing instead of talking. After a few minutes of her staring at me, waiting for me to explain, I relent.

“It’s the hormones,” I say, swallowing my bite. “They’re driving me crazy. All I can think about is sex. All I want is sex. Sex, sex, sex. It’s fucking hell!”

Pregnancy hasn’t put me in tune with my feminine body like Dr. Oz said. Instead, it’s turned me into a fucking man.

“So go have it.” She shrugs as if it were the simplest answer in the world.

“Go have it? With whom? In case you’ve forgotten,” I glance outside my office door then point to my midsection.

I have yet to tell my boss or anyone else at the firm about my pregnancy. Before, I had the excuse of waiting for the first trimester to end, but that milestone is coming up fast. I’m nearly twelve weeks. Luckily my tummy hasn’t grown too much and loose blouses are able to hide any small growth I do have. I know I’m going to have to tell them soon. I’m just waiting for the right time.

“For starters, how about the guy who got you pregnant,” Holly suggests.

“Are you insane?” I snap my head up in surprise. “And keep your voice down. I don’t need some intern overhearing and blabbing it around the office.”

“What?” She shrugs. “If it’s just sex you need, why not?”

“Why not?” I repeat, flabbergasted. “There are lots of reasons why not.”

“Like?”

“Like…” I think, grasping for any kind of answer to come at me. I know there have got to be at least a thousand different reasons why having sex with Shane again would be a terrible idea. I just need one to jump out at me.

Ah ha!

“We’ve only just gotten back into our normal routine. Our friendship is finally back to normal, just like it used to be—or as close as it can be. I don’t want to mess with that. Secondly...” I pause. “Like I said, there are lots of reasons.”

“Uh huh.” Holly smiles, stifling a laugh.

I know I can have another argument ready if I am just given a minute to pull my thoughts together. I know I can put forward a case in which there will be no reasonable doubt left on how bad of an idea having sex with Shane again would be. But the arrival of my boss, Cassandra Fairfax, at my door stops me from pursuing it.

“Ms. Fairfax, you’re back from court early,” I say standing, wiping my mouth with my used napkin.

It’s fair to say this woman intimidates me wholly. Her presence, stature, demeanor. All of it daunting but only because I strive to be like her one day. A highly in demand attorney, well respected, senior partner at the firm and, quite frankly, a nicer woman than you’d expect in her position.

“Apologies for intruding on your lunch. The judge recessed early. Leah, I need to see you in my office.”

“Of course,” I tell her before she turns and walks away. I quickly start cleaning the containers off my desk when Holly brushes my hand away, telling me to leave it and go.

“Thanks,” I say.

I follow Cassandra down the halls of our office. Past the closed white office doors, the dark gray walls decorated with expensive art. Past the interns who stop everything they’re doing to smile and acknowledge Cassandra as she passes. I quicken my pace, entering her office just as she’s sitting down at her glass desk, typing a few things into her laptop.