Chapter Fifty-One
Sierra
Griffin holds me all night, caressing my still-flat belly. I lay my hand over his, needing the physical connection and comfort of touch.
He said all the right words, the kind any woman in my situation would be happy to hear. But something still bothers me all night. It’s nothing overt—more like that unease you get when you can’t remember if you turned off the stove before leaving home.
But even as the mild apprehension lingers, I can’t put my finger on why. Nothing’s unusual in the morning. We go through our routine of showers, breakfast—no coffee for me—and getting ready for work. Griffin tells me to eat for four, and I laugh.
It’s probably just nerves. Being pregnant is a huge shock. I still can’t believe I’m carrying three babies! Once I get used to the idea, I’ll go back to my normal self, no problem.
At work, Heather forwards me an email from Charles Phillips from Wollstonecraft College. The name is vaguely familiar. I look at his signature, and realize that he is Griffin’s boss in the economics department.
Dear Sierra,
Griffin has undoubtedly mentioned our upcoming faculty social by now, but I wanted to check in with you, to let you know how important it is and how much we would appreciate your joining us. Spouses and significant others (forgive me for the horrible circumlocution) will attend, and the event will be low-key and “chill,” as the students like to say.
There will be plenty of food and drink, and if you would be so kind as to inform me of any allergies or preferences, I shall, of course, be happy to accommodate them.
The email ends with the date, time and location of the event and a firm but polite request for an RSVP. I pull back, considering my schedule. Griffin hasn’t said anything about any college social. If it were Todd, I’d assume he didn’t tell me because he was too ashamed to be seen with me—a sex toy CEO and somebody who doesn’t know anything about English poetry. But this is Griffin. He was probably distracted and busy with the trip to Tokyo. And yesterday we had dinner with his brothers, then I dropped the bombshell on him.
I shoot him a text.
–Me: I got an email from Charles Phillips about a faculty social. What’s the dress code, etc.? The English department was much more formal than I expected.
Then I head for a meeting with Ellie’s team. Everything goes smoothly, although the room feels a bit stuffy. Maybe it’s premature to worry about it already, but ever since hearing that I’m pregnant, I keep wondering when I’m going to be struck by nausea or a sensitivity to smell.
After the meeting, I invite Ellie to lunch. “Are you free?” I want to tell her about my pregnancy and what happened last night.
“I’m always open for lunch. Let’s go.” She grabs her purse. “I pick the place?”
“Please.” I don’t have the mental energy to decide what I want, and I trust Ellie’s judgment. Right now, my brain’s devoted to processing my to-do list at work and the fact that I’m pregnant.
She drives us to Milano, an upscale Italian bistro. Their menu is excellent, but a bit pricey.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask as we walk in.
“Your birthday,” Ellie says. “I know we did the cake yesterday in the office, but I’m your best friend. It’s in my contract to do something extra special for you.”
We get seated at a table by the window, and I order their pasta lunch special. Ellie gets the specialty three-cheese pizza—her favorite. As soon as our waitress is gone, I lean across the table. I should probably ease her into the idea, all smooth and cool-like.
I take a sip of water. “I’m pregnant.”
She chokes, then starts laughing. “Okay, that’s a bad joke.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Come on. How can you be pregnant? Didn’t your doctor say you were, you know…” She doesn’t want to say the word.
“Infertile? Apparently no, not really.” I tell her what happened.
“Incredible. So Griffin’s alpha sperm overcame the obstacles and did the horizontal tango with your egg?”
“Yes,” I say, laughing a little. “If eggs and sperm can even be horizontal. Oh, and I’m having triplets.”
“Oh my God!” Her jaw actually drops. “Triple alpha!”
Our waiter brings our food. As I smell the delicious pasta in front of me, I say, “I’m going to be a mom.”