Now, how to tell him . . . where would be most romantic? Most public? What should she wear? She’d have to schedule a professional photo shoot to show off her bump, for sure. With Ophelia, to make them look like a happy family.
Melissa made reservations at the Ice House and went over the scenario a dozen times in her head. They’d eat, the server would clear, and then she’d say, “Babe, I have some wonderful news. I’m pregnant!” He’d probably cry, then they’d kiss—hopefully, he would kneel by her chair. She’d ask the waiter to film the whole thing. Gosh, Instagram and TikTok would love that! It would definitely go viral. Enough of those marriage proposals. Time for something even better, even more important. Something sacred.
She’d hired Sophie, the nice babysitter Ophelia actually liked, and who worshipped Melissa, since she’d given her a few pairs of shoes and some last-season purses. Sophie could help get her younger viewers, so she should definitely do a video with the girl. She was pretty enough, too, and just unpretty enough not to outshine Melissa.
Currently, Sophie and Ophelia were eating the macaroni and cheese the chef had left, and even from way up here, she could smell the gorgeous, rich Boursin and cheddar. Cheese. She never stopped loving it.
She waited until Bradley was done in the shower. She liked prepping alone, and she didn’t want to take the chance that he’d see her tiny baby bump and guess before she could announce the happy news.
As she stood in her silk bathrobe in front of the mirror, she peered closer. Her face looked . . . different. It looked . . . fat. Where were her cheekbones? What had she eaten today? A green smoothie for breakfast, some grilled chicken for lunch with a side salad . . . nothing that would make her swell! A few Lindt truffles that had somehow gotten into the pantry. One paltry chocolate chip cookie from the still-warm batch Chef Paul made for Phee. Plus, she was guzzling water and peeing incessantly. But otherwise, super healthy.
And what were those little dots on her chin? Blackheads? She didn’t get blackheads! Spinning the mirror around, she took a look in the magnifying side.
They weren’t blackheads. They were pores. When had her pores suddenly expanded? She had flawless skin! Flawless!
“Babe? Our reservation is at seven thirty, right?”
“Right, babe,” she called back, an edge of panic in her voice.
She grabbed her concealer kit and got to work. When she was finished, she looked more or less herself, but she could tell. She’d have to see a dermatologist, because she was so not going to have disgusting skin during this pregnancy.
An ivory wool dress with a wide neckline, clinging to her boobs. She needed a bigger bra, gosh darn it. Well, that was fine. Underwear shopping was fun, though it might require a trip to Boston or New York. She cinched her waist with a brown leather belt, but it didn’t look right. Her waist was . . . thicker. She turned around. Her ass was wider, and another ripple of panic went through her. Already? Already her body was changing? What had Lillie said? Twelve weeks. Almost thirteen. If she already looked so gross, what would the rest of her pregnancy do to her body?
“Calm down, Missy,” she whispered to herself. “Remember who you are.” She’d consult someone about a pregnancy workout to make sure she looked fit and gorgeous. Who was that woman who’d helped the Kardashians? She’d find out.
“You look beautiful,” said Bradley as she finally emerged from the bathroom.
“Thanks, babe,” she said, giving him a smile. Their baby would have the most beautiful eyes, courtesy of his turquoise, almost fake-looking blue and her translucent green. Should she reach out to a modeling agency now, or wait till the baby was born?
At the Ice House, Beth gave a clipped “Hello, Melissa” and ignored Bradley. Whatever. “Would it be all right if we sat here, Beth?” Melissa asked sweetly, pausing at a table in the center of the restaurant.
“Sure.” She put down the menus, said “Enjoy your dinner” and left.
“Well, someone’s still not over our marriage,” Bradley said. “She and Lillie have been friends since they were little. I hope she doesn’t spit in our food. Huh huh huh. Oh, I have to tell you something. I think Lillie is stalking me. I saw her car in Orleans the other day? Right on Main Street. She’s obsessed with me still.”
“I’m sure she had other reasons for driving on Main Street, honey,” Melissa said.
“She used to come by the office unannounced sometimes. With flowers in a jar or some banana bread. As if my work was so frivolous she could just stop by whenever she wanted.”
“She would interrupt client sessions?”
Brad paused. “Well, no. But I’d hear her coming in the back. She’d leave stuff in the kitchen.”
Yes, call the wife police. How dare she? “Well, you can be sure I won’t be doing that, babe.” She laughed seductively, her fingers at her neckline. “I have my hands full these days.”
“You know she still won’t let Dylan FaceTime me. I mean, I know he’s an adult, but I’m sure she’s manipulated him into not speaking to me. She’s turning him against me. We were always so close, and now she’s preventing him from building a new relationship with me. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s being used. I would have thought me telling him about her wedding stunt would show him how vengeful she is, but he hasn’t called me back. And I know it’s because of her.”
Enough talk of Lillie, though it was hard not to think of her, given that Lillie was the one who had told her she was pregnant. “Speaking of Dylan, when is he coming home for Christmas?” Melissa asked. “I want to have his room at Stella Maris ready for him.”
“I don’t know! She won’t even tell me how long his break is.”
“Doesn’t it say on the college website?”
Bradley flushed. “I guess.”
“Well, we’ll see him, babe, don’t worry. I’m sure of it. You’ve always been a wonderful father.” And maybe there’d be a gorgeous new car sitting in the garage with a big bow on it. A bribe, sure. They worked. “Remember,” she continued, “Dylan hasn’t actually met me. Once he does, I think he’ll be able to see how happy you are, and that I don’t have horns and a tail.”
Brad’s face relaxed. “No. I’ve seen your ass enough to say it’s perfection.”
As if on cue, she farted. She jerked, shocked. She hadn’t even felt the urge! They both pretended it hadn’t happened, and she prayed that no one else had heard it. She’d book an appointment this week and see what could be done. In addition to the gas, her stomach was burning with acid, and she was out of Tums. She hated needing them, but they did work, at least for a while.
“Oh, guess what I heard?” Bradley said. “Lillie’s renting the studio! She has a man living there, and she was oh so judgmental of us. Now she’s—”
“Can we stop talking about her, Bradley? Please. I’d like to have a nice dinner.” She took a long sip of water, then set the glass down. “She’s entitled to her anger, Bradley. You cheated on her.”
Brad blinked. “I mean, it wasn’t cheating as much as a relationship transition.”
“Whatever you call it, it happened. Let’s order, babe. What looks good to you?” She looked down. Oh, yes. Tuscan-style veal with rosemary, garlic and sage. She hadn’t had red meat in years, but her mouth watered. Sorry, baby animal, you are too good to pass up. And oh, golly, the clam chowder. She knew it was basically hot cream with clams and potatoes, but she suddenly had to have it. She could taste it already.
Her blood sugar must be low. She felt more gas coming and clenched.
The server, a young man with a ring in his nose, came over. “Hi, I’m Tanner. Can I get you two some drinks tonight?”
“We’d like to order everything now, if you don’t mind,” Melissa said, her stomach growling loudly. She pretended she didn’t notice. “I’ll have a Caesar salad, a cup of clam chowder and the veal, please.” She also pretended not to notice Bradley’s face, which was shocked. She didn’t usually order so much food. He did, though. He always had three courses, at least.