Oopsie Daisy by Iris Morland

Author:Iris Morland [Morland, Iris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Iris Morland

Chapter Thirteen

Kate

My family was a little strange, but we were close. Since my sisters and I all still lived in town, we would go home for dinner a few times a month. The family party had expanded when Dani had started dating Jacob, and then Mari had married Liam. I’d been the one who’d never brought a boy home.

Now two weeks into the quarter, I didn’t have a boy to bring home: I had a fetus to bring along with me. And because of that, I’d gotten out of the last two family dinners with excuses that I was too busy studying.

My mom had texted me two days ago, asking me if I’d come to dinner on Sunday. We haven’t seen you in forever! she lamented, including a long line of sad emoji faces. And I know you need to use the washer and dryer at some point.

Okay, she had me there. Although our apartment building had laundry, you had to use coins and it was a huge pain in the ass. My laundry was piling up, and I’d started wearing my underwear inside out to avoid going home to wash them.

So much for proving to Lochlann that I was a mature adult.

Sitting on the couch while Naoko practiced her tuba in her room, I racked my brain for an excuse to get my mom to leave me alone. But it wasn’t my mom who got me to go to a family dinner: it was Mari and her guilt trip.

Mom’s worried about you, she texted me only a half hour after our mom had messaged me. She thinks you’re upset about something.

I’m a grad student. We’re the flakiest beings on earth.

You live all of two miles away.

I told you guys that I’m busy.

The dreaded blinking dots popped up on my screen, and as they blinked and blinked, I knew Mari was sending me some epic text of doom. I groaned inwardly.

To my surprise, though, the text she finally sent me was short and to the point.

I’d really like you to come to dinner to help me finish preparations on my baby shower. I know you’re busy and you weren’t asked to coordinate it, but it’d mean a lot to me if you’d still be there.

I groaned aloud. How could I say no to that? The only way I could bail was if I lied about being ill, and if I did that, my sisters and my parents would come to my apartment to check on me.

Okay, I’ll be there.

That Sunday, as if overnight, my bump suddenly went from a slight curve to an actual certified bump. To my immense irritation, my jeans were now too tight. I could get them on and buttoned, but the metal button dug into my belly. And, of course, I’d spilled oatmeal all over my one pair of sweatpants: at the moment, they looked like I’d barfed on them.

I realized what I had to do and groaned. I pulled out the one dress I owned—besides the bridesmaid dress I’d bought for Mari’s wedding—and put it on.

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