Was it normal to cry tears when orgasming, she wondered idly as her body softened and she sank back down into the mattress, Christian’s body above, hot and hard and oh so sexy.

  His eyes fluttered open and he gave her a crooked grin. “Welcome to mi casa,” he said, and she laughed.

  “Thanks,” she whispered as he crawled up onto the bed beside her, pulling her against him, and together, they drifted on the wings of sleep and love.

  Chapter 22

  Carla

  If you haven’t got your health, you haven’t got anything.

  ~Count Rugen in The Princess Bride

  October, 2020

  It was funny how life worked, she thought with a happy sigh as she stirred her tea.

  Michelle was pontificating on something – it sounded like she was explaining her male castration theory to their newest member of the Early Spinster’s Club, Keila – but Carla couldn’t keep her mind focused on what her friend was saying.

  She took a sip of her tea instead, pondering her own personal housing crisis. Ever since the night of I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours six weeks ago, Carla and Christian had spent every free waking hour together. No more stupidity and misplaced pride keeping them apart.

  Thank heavens.

  Over that time, talk about “I need to find a new place to live in that is larger than a shoebox” and “I need to find a place to live in that isn’t a single-wide trailer in the middle of a dustbowl” had morphed into “We need to find a place to live.” She couldn’t put her finger on the exact moment that’d happened – it just sorta did. Being around Christian was like slipping into a pair of faded, comfy jeans. They fit together and already, Carla could only vaguely remember BC time – Before Christian. How had she lived without him? How had she wanted to live without him?

  She took a sip of her tea, and like dropping a stone into a deep well, it seemed to take forever before the tea actually hit her stomach. Her hollow, empty, cramping-from-hunger stomach.

  How had she gone this long without eating?

  Even that time she’d gotten really stupid in college and had gone on an ultra-low calorie diet in an attempt to shed some weight, she hadn’t been this hungry.

  She had a bear claw in front of her – always a fav – but in the midst of this personal famine she was suffering through, it looked simply putrid. Disgusting. What had she ever thought she liked about bear claws? They were all dark brown and ugly and smelled terrible.

  Autumn’s orange-glaze muffin – not even touched yet – was just across the table and Carla’s gaze lit on it like a drowning man spotting a life preserver. Orange glaze? Her mouth watered. Clean and bright and citrusy, it was exactly what she wanted just then.

  “Do you mind?” she croaked, already reaching for the muffin. There was a tiny, distant part of her brain that knew what she was doing was rude, but she could hardly hear it over the roar of the hungry lion that’d taken up residence in her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she said around mouthfuls. It tasted even better than she’d imagined it would. “I haven’t been able to keep anything down lately. This is…”

  She looked down at the empty muffin paper. How had that happened?

  “Gone?” she said stupidly.

  “You haven’t been able to keep anything down?” Michelle asked archly.

  “Yeah,” Carla mumbled, looking back towards the display case. Were there more? Surely there were more of these bits of heaven.

  “I’ll go see if they have another one,” Autumn said, a lilt in her voice that Carla couldn’t quite place, and slid out of the booth. Carla made a mental note to give her a bouquet of flowers to take home with her. This kind of friendship was above and beyond.

  “How long have you been having a hard time keeping shit down?” Keila asked, and even in the depths of her hunger, Carla smiled at the tough Boston accent of her friend. It was so different from the Idaho drawl Carla had been hearing from birth, and she liked it.

  “Ummmm…” Carla’s gaze had followed the path of her friend’s trek to the front counter. Autumn was pointing at the display case and Gage was reaching in to grab something. Good. They did have more.

  Michelle snapped her fingers in front of Carla’s face. “Carla!” she barked. She jerked around to look at her friend.

  “Yes?” she said tightly, trying not to let her annoyance show. Couldn’t they give her a minute? Give her some space to breathe?

  “How long have you been strugglin’ with keepin’ shit down?” Michelle asked, enunciating every word like she was talking to a slow, rather stupid child.

  “I don’t know. A while,” she said defensively. Michelle cocked an eyebrow at her. Carla paused for a minute, thinking. “The Morton wedding!” she said with satisfaction, proud of herself for remembering. “I almost threw up on the boutonnieres. Barely made it to the trashcan. I just kept thinking how angry the mother of the bride would be if I delivered corsages with puke on them.”

  Autumn was at her elbow, pushing an orange-glaze muffin beneath her nose, and Carla dug into it, reveling in it. Finally, here was some food that wasn’t going to leave her puking over the trashcan. It was exactly what she needed, and her stomach roared its approval.

  “When did the Mortons get married, anyone remember?” Michelle asked the table as Autumn slid back into place across from Carla.

  “A little over three weeks ago,” Carla said around the heaven in her mouth. “The 19th of September.” It was her job to remember the big days in her customers’ lives. What kind of florist would she be if she forgot something like that?

  “You’ve been sick for three weeks?!” Michelle looked apoplectic.

  “I guess.” Carla shrugged, and then looked with bewilderment down at the muffin in front of her. Or rather, the empty paper muffin cup. Only a few scattered crumbs attested to the fact it’d once held a muffin.

  Was Gage cheaping out on his customers and making his muffins smaller than normal? How was a girl supposed to fill up if the muffins were bite-sized?

  There was a long silence and Carla looked up to catch the significant glances Michelle, Autumn, and Keila were sharing. They seemed to be having a silent conversation that she wasn’t invited to.

  “What?” she said defensively. “What’s wrong? Why are you guys looking like that?”

  “Autumn, get her another muffin,” Michelle barked, a drill sergeant come to life. “I’ll run across the street to the pharmacy. Keila, keep her from pitching over from starvation. Ready, set, break!”

  “The pharmacy?” Carla asked in bewilderment to Michelle’s retreating back. She swung her gaze towards Keila, her friend’s chameleon eyes a light gray today. “Why is she going to the pharmacy?”

  Keila, a little green around the gills, looked like she’d rather be anywhere on planet Earth than in that booth at that moment. Carla narrowed her eyes at her new friend. Something was going on here, and she’d be damned if everyone would continue to leave her out of…whatever it was.

  Autumn was back faster that time, shoving the muffin into view.

  “Oh, thank you, Lord!” Carla said ecstatically, digging into it. Why had she ever bothered with bear claws? What’d she been thinking? With the existence of orange-glaze muffins in the world, eating anything else was just a travesty.

  She closed her eyes, savoring the taste on her tongue. Now that she’d partially filled the giant, gnawing hole in her stomach, she could at least chew before swallowing.

  Keila and Autumn chatted lightly, ignoring Carla for the moment, which suited her just fine. If no one was asking her questions, she didn’t have to worry about being rude and answering with her mouth full.

  Hardly any time at all passed, and then Michelle was sliding back into the booth, sending significant glances at Autumn and Keila. “Has she figured it out yet?” she asked. They shook their heads.

  Carla sent her friend a glowering look. “She is right here. What haven’t I figured out yet?”

  “When was the last time you had your period?” Michelle whispered, ignoring Carla’s question. Carla paused, confused. What on earth did that have to do with the price of tea in China?

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “It’s always pretty light – I don’t get cramps or heavy bleeding or any of those terrible symptoms people complain about. I just throw a pad on for a couple of days and call it good. I’ve never paid much attention to…”

  She trailed off, her mouth forming a perfect O.

  “I’ll go get you a muffin this time,” Keila said tactfully, sliding out of the booth.

  “I think she’s finally put the pieces together,” Autumn said dryly.

  Carla simply stared at Autumn and Michelle, her jaw practically scraping the table top, feelings and thoughts and emotions all running together, no hope of separating them out.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Michelle said with a chuckle. “Carla, I do believe you’re gonna become a momma.”

  “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means,” Carla whispered.

  Autumn looked at Michelle, startled.

  “Princess Bride,” Michelle said, waving the unspoken question away. “And I do think it means what I think it means,” she said dryly to Carla. “Just how careful have you and Christian been?”

  Carla’s mind instantly flashed to all of the times that Christian had wrapped up carefully…but then that one time he hadn’t. Their first time, up in the mountains in that meadow. It had only been once. Surely she couldn’t be pregnant after only one slip-up.

  “It only takes once,” Michelle said quietly, as if reading Carla’s mind, scooting over so Keila could sit down again.

  Carla’s hands shook as she unwrapped the muffin, mindlessly stuffing bites into her mouth. Pregnant. She could be pregnant. With Christian’s baby.

  Then the muffin was gone – where did it go?? – and Autumn was gently tugging on her hand, pulling her out of the booth. “Let’s head back to the store,” she said, putting a steadying arm around Carla’s waist.

  “Is she okay?” Gage called from the front counter.

  “Oh yeah, she’s fine. Just didn’t eat enough this morning, I think. I’ll get her back to the shop,” Autumn called back breezily. Carla loved her eternally in that moment for not blurting out the truth.

  “You’re a good friend,” she mumbled under her breath, her arms and legs shaking spastically. She was going to collapse at any moment. Suddenly, her shop seemed miles away, even though it was only a few blocks down the street. It might as well have been Jupiter. Her body refused to cooperate with something as advanced as walking.

  Pregnant? I can’t be pregnant. I mean, I want to be pregnant. But later. Christian and I are still learning about each other. I don’t even know if he likes cheddar or provolone cheese more! I can’t bring another human being into the mix. I don’t know anything about this human being. What if it likes cheddar but Christian likes provolone?

  In a distant part of her mind, she realized that Michelle and Autumn were on either side of her, holding her up, with Keila trailing behind. The words they were saying swam lazily into focus, and she finally figured out they were discussing the merits of different kinds of cheese.

  “What…what about Swiss cheese?” Carla mumbled to Michelle as Autumn slid her own key into the lock and opened up the store. Which was very, very good, because unlocking a door seemed like a herculean feat in that moment.

  “You were talking about cheese – what the baby would like versus Christian. So we were just discussing our favorites.”

  “I was?” Carla whispered, surprised. She hadn’t meant to say any of it out loud.

  Michelle helped her slide into her work chair and Carla gratefully sagged into it, her brain already running a million miles per hour, cheese completely forgotten. Where would they live? Surely not in the little attic space above the shop, and not at Christian’s place either. It was fine for a bachelor, but not her and a baby. Suddenly, their search for a home of their own took on a new level of urgency.

  Autumn put a cool washcloth on Carla’s forehead and slipped a glass of water into her hand. “Drink something. I think it’ll help.”

  Carla really wanted more than water in that moment – maybe a stiff drink, or seven – but if she really was pregnant…

  “Hold on – you bought a pregnancy test!” she gasped, her mind clearing for the first time.

  Michelle pulled a small brown bag out of her purse with a sly grin. “I got a few probing questions from Mrs. Morland but I refused to say a word. If everyone in town thinks I’m preggers by morning, I’m totally blaming you.”

  Carla let out a bark of laughter and then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry!” she whispered.

  “It’s fine.” Michelle didn’t seem bothered in the least. Of course, nothing much ever bothered Michelle. “Now, let’s get you peeing on a stick, shall we?”

  Chapter 23

  Christian

  I trust you with this secret.

  ~Prince Humperdinck in The Princess Bride

  Carla was acting…weird.

  Which sure, they’d only been together since June, so maybe this wasn’t weird at all for her. Maybe this was what she was always like, and the last few months were the exception.

  But he really didn’t think so. He didn’t remember her being particularly “off” during high school, and there’d never been a whisper around town that Carla was soft in the head.

  But there was no denying that “weird” was exactly what she was being right now.

  She’d called him up, demanded that he come over right now to talk, but after dropping everything and speeding off to town, leaving a rather pissy Stetson behind, Carla was now refusing to say a word. She’d shut off the lights in the shop, flipped off the open sign, and locked the door. She was pacing around the shop like a caged animal, muttering under her breath, and he swore he’d heard her say “provolone” at one point, but every time he’d asked her what was going on, she’d snapped at him, so he’d sat down on a stool and was now patiently waiting for that moment when she’d clue him in on what was going on.

  Screw that.

  He was fast losing his patience and had half a mind to walk out the front door. She could call him when she was actually ready to say or do something beyond talk to herself. Did he really need to be here as she had the world’s longest one-sided conversation?

  Stetson is gonna kill me. I left him with those damn cows, about ready to check for—

  “Christian, I need to talk to you!” Carla announced suddenly, coming to a complete stop, hands on her hips, glaring at him.

  As if he was the reason she hadn’t said anything yet.

  He was tempted – oh so tempted – to reply with a scathingly sarcastic comment, but he wanted to know what in the hell was going on more. Maybe only a tiny bit more, but it did, in the end, win out.

  “Okaayyy…tell me what’s going on.” He used his best level-headed, kind boyfriend voice, and was pretty damn proud of himself for pulling it off successfully, if he did say so himself.

  “I…well…I…do you love me?” she demanded.

  “Uhhh…” he sputtered. Out of all of the directions that he’d imagined for this conversation, this was not one of the possibilities that had occurred to him. “Is, uh, is there a reason that you want to talk about this right now?”

  He did love Carla. He loved her more than he loved any other person in his life. But he’d wanted to tell her in a more romantic way than her demanding answers in a quickly darkening flower shop.

  “Because I need to know right now!” she yelled, rounding on him. “I can’t tell you…I just need to know, okay? Do you love me?”

  He felt the hackles rise a bit on the back of his neck. This wasn’t how he’d intended this particular conversation to go. This demanding, pushy woman wasn’t Carla. She wanted flowers and chocolates and romance. Surely she didn’t want to be told that he loved her for the first time at emotional gunpoint?

  He stood up from the bar stool at the work table, and stalked over to her. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug her or tell her to get lost. As he got closer, though, and could see – in the rapidly darkening store – the way she was standing with her shoulders tense, eyes wild…

  Something was going on.

  Something she wasn’t sharing with him.

  At the last moment, hug won out, and he pulled her into his arms. She was stiff as a cardboard cutout at first and then she began to loosen, sagging against him, shoulders shaking, and he realized that she was crying as his shirt dampened from the moisture.

  “Shhhh…” he whispered, stroking her back. “It’s all going to be okay. I promise. Whatever’s happening, it’s all going to be okay. I can help you.” With what, he didn’t know, but he made the promise anyway. Whatever was causing this, he’d make it all better, or die trying.

  She let out a strangled bark of laughter at that, pulling back in his arms and looking at him. She looked fragile in that moment.

  Carla was many things. Boisterous. A true lady. Kind. Giving. Thoughtful.

  But fragile?

  Never fragile.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter 24

  Carla

  And remember, this is for posterity, so be honest. How do you feel?

  ~Count Rugen in The Princess Bride

  She’d gone and done it. She’d told him. She couldn’t take the words back. She couldn’t flee the country and raise the baby on her own. She couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t real any longer.

  She’d told him the truth.

  His arms, so warm and welcoming around her just a moment before, went stiff. His whole body went stiff. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t moving.

 

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