your own business and don’t depend on our parents for sustenance anymore.”
“Yes, and yet they still keep putting money into my account. Even as recent as last week,” I tell her. Their money now goes straight into a trust fund for the baby, because I refuse to touch a penny of it. By spending enough money, my parents think they can buy anything, including my agreement to do whatever the hell they want me to do. Never again. It’s all about appearances with the two of them, which is the only reason they had me and Whitney. The social clubs would’ve looked down on them for not procreating, and they would’ve lost out on all the “my kid is better than yours” competitions. Whitney still plays along, but I gave it up a long time ago.
“Huh. Guess they’re softening up to everything after all,” she says. “So, you ready to shop?”
“No!” I shake my head and tell her adamantly. There’s no way I want to repeat the prior episode over and over again. “I-I just can’t. This is so hard.” My voice cracks on the last word, and then I’m a blubbering mess. Whitney wraps me in her arms and lets me cry on her shoulder.
When the bathroom door opens and a woman with her little girl comes in, I know it’s time to leave. “Have you had lunch?” I ask her as we walk toward the exit.
“No,” she replies. “Why, are you a hungry, hungry hippo?”
“Not funny,” I mutter.
“Oh, hi.” A peppy young woman in a purple logo shirt stops us before we get to the sliding doors. “Have you started your registry with us yet?”
“She’s not pregnant, just fat, so leave her alone, you nosy heifer!” my sister yells at the woman as she grabs my arm and pulls me away.
“Whitney!” I exclaim. “I’m so sorry,” I tell the salesperson over my shoulder on the way out the door.
“Whew! That was fun,” Whitney says, practically skipping through the parking lot until we approach our two red Beemers parked side-by-side.
“Not fun,” I scoff. “That was mean.”
“Hey, I was just trying to save you from another freak out,” she tells me. “So, where to, Triple H? Whatcha got a craving for?”
Cock. Always cock. And enchiladas.
“Triple H?” I ask in confusion with my hands on my hips.
“Hungry, hungry hippo. I thought you would prefer Triple H to the actual phrase.”
“I would prefer Abby, but whatever,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “How about Rio Grande ?”
“Mexican? Really, that’s what the little one wants? Or do you just want to be in the shopping center near Havoc on the off chance some of the fighters might come in?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “Either way is fine, because those boys are hot!”
“Fine, see you there,” I tell her before getting in my car without answering her question. Driving past Havoc , my thoughts first go to Senn and not Linc or even Luke. Maybe because for the past few mornings I’ve been eating the saltine crackers he brought over before I get out of bed and so I haven’t been sick. Well, not until later in the day at least. When I found the plastic bag on the table after he left, at first I thought Luke had brought them, but then I realized the bag had the logo from a beach store. Knowing Senn had gone to get them for me that morning is beyond sweet and surprising. But it doesn’t matter. He’s probably already fucked his way through half a dozen non-pregnant women by now.
A few minutes later, Whitney and I are seated at a table in the busy Mexican restaurant.
“So, how are you feeling?” Whitney asks once we’ve ordered.
Reaching for a salty chip from the basket to settle my stomach, I tell her, “Pretty good. Morning sickness is still making me its bitch. A few nosebleeds and fatigue. How have you been?”
“I’m trying to stay strong and think positive, but it’s hard. Why couldn’t you be an evil stepsister?” she asks, and looks away when she uses her knuckle to brush away a tear.
“I’m sorry we’re
“Yes, and yet they still keep putting money into my account. Even as recent as last week,” I tell her. Their money now goes straight into a trust fund for the baby, because I refuse to touch a penny of it. By spending enough money, my parents think they can buy anything, including my agreement to do whatever the hell they want me to do. Never again. It’s all about appearances with the two of them, which is the only reason they had me and Whitney. The social clubs would’ve looked down on them for not procreating, and they would’ve lost out on all the “my kid is better than yours” competitions. Whitney still plays along, but I gave it up a long time ago.
“Huh. Guess they’re softening up to everything after all,” she says. “So, you ready to shop?”
“No!” I shake my head and tell her adamantly. There’s no way I want to repeat the prior episode over and over again. “I-I just can’t. This is so hard.” My voice cracks on the last word, and then I’m a blubbering mess. Whitney wraps me in her arms and lets me cry on her shoulder.
When the bathroom door opens and a woman with her little girl comes in, I know it’s time to leave. “Have you had lunch?” I ask her as we walk toward the exit.
“No,” she replies. “Why, are you a hungry, hungry hippo?”
“Not funny,” I mutter.
“Oh, hi.” A peppy young woman in a purple logo shirt stops us before we get to the sliding doors. “Have you started your registry with us yet?”
“She’s not pregnant, just fat, so leave her alone, you nosy heifer!” my sister yells at the woman as she grabs my arm and pulls me away.
“Whitney!” I exclaim. “I’m so sorry,” I tell the salesperson over my shoulder on the way out the door.
“Whew! That was fun,” Whitney says, practically skipping through the parking lot until we approach our two red Beemers parked side-by-side.
“Not fun,” I scoff. “That was mean.”
“Hey, I was just trying to save you from another freak out,” she tells me. “So, where to, Triple H? Whatcha got a craving for?”
Cock. Always cock. And enchiladas.
“Triple H?” I ask in confusion with my hands on my hips.
“Hungry, hungry hippo. I thought you would prefer Triple H to the actual phrase.”
“I would prefer Abby, but whatever,” I reply with a roll of my eyes. “How about Rio Grande ?”
“Mexican? Really, that’s what the little one wants? Or do you just want to be in the shopping center near Havoc on the off chance some of the fighters might come in?” she asks with a raised eyebrow. “Either way is fine, because those boys are hot!”
“Fine, see you there,” I tell her before getting in my car without answering her question. Driving past Havoc , my thoughts first go to Senn and not Linc or even Luke. Maybe because for the past few mornings I’ve been eating the saltine crackers he brought over before I get out of bed and so I haven’t been sick. Well, not until later in the day at least. When I found the plastic bag on the table after he left, at first I thought Luke had brought them, but then I realized the bag had the logo from a beach store. Knowing Senn had gone to get them for me that morning is beyond sweet and surprising. But it doesn’t matter. He’s probably already fucked his way through half a dozen non-pregnant women by now.
A few minutes later, Whitney and I are seated at a table in the busy Mexican restaurant.
“So, how are you feeling?” Whitney asks once we’ve ordered.
Reaching for a salty chip from the basket to settle my stomach, I tell her, “Pretty good. Morning sickness is still making me its bitch. A few nosebleeds and fatigue. How have you been?”
“I’m trying to stay strong and think positive, but it’s hard. Why couldn’t you be an evil stepsister?” she asks, and looks away when she uses her knuckle to brush away a tear.
“I’m sorry we’re
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