“So…” Brynna lifts an eyebrow expectantly.

“So what?”

“Don’t be stubborn. Talk.” She takes a bite of a chip and a long sip of her slutty margarita and smiles smugly.

“I hate you right now.”

“No you don’t.” She waves me off with a flick of the wrist. “How do you feel about the baby?”

“Oh, Sophie’s great. She’s so funny, she just giggles all the time. Here, I’ve got a video on my phone I want to show you…” I look up into Brynna’s wide brown eyes. “What?”

“Stace, are you having a seizure? Do I have to take you back to Dr. Delectable?”

“He’s Dr. Delicious.”

“Whatever, I’ll take you back to Dr. Sex-on-a-stick if I need to. You do remember that tid-bit about you being preggers, right?”

“Oh.” I sit back in the seat, a chip hanging limply between my fingers. “Yeah.”

“Right.”

“I’m pregnant.” I say the words again in my brain, letting them sit there and percolate. “Without meds, or shots in the hip, or being told, month after month, that it didn’t work.”

Holy shit.

“What do you think Isaac will say?” she asks.

I flinch. “Well, coincidentally, we talked about this a few weeks ago. We were gonna wait to have more, but I’m quite sure he’ll be happy once the shock wears off.” I shrug. Yes, Isaac will be great. We’d planned to have a whole houseful of children when we first got married.

“Oh, God.” I swallow another chip and take a sip of water.

“What?” Brynna asks.

“I’m going to have two babies under eighteen months old. Two babies in diapers. Two babies…”

Her eyebrows are raised and she’s grinning. “I wouldn’t know what that’s like at all.”

“Damn, I was not expecting this.” I laugh and take a deep breath. “Sophie’s gonna be a big sister.”

“How are you going to tell him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It should be something fun.” I clap my hands excitedly.

“I know! Christmas is just a few days away.”

“I like where you’re going with this.” I sip my margarita impostor and lean forward, listening intently.

“Okay, I saw this on that pinning board online. Have you seen that site?”

“I’m addicted to that site.” I waste many, many hours on that site.

“Here’s what you’re going to do:  call Natalie first. Then…”

***

“How was your day?” Isaac asks and pulls me in for a kiss. He’s just come in from work, and brought Italian with him, God love him.

“It was a good day,” I smile to myself and jump up and down in my head. “Pretty standard.”

“Anything new happen?”

You have no fucking idea, babe.

“Not really.” I shrug and kiss him chastely and then start pulling Styrofoam boxes of delicious food out of a brown paper bag. Isaac walks into the kitchen for plates and silverware and pulls down two wine goblets and a bottle of Merlot.

Shit.

“No wine for me, Eyes,” I say as nonchalantly as possible.

“You sure? I know you love this with the chicken parmesan.” He frowns and tilts his head. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine,” I wave him off and dish up our plates, smiling over at Sophie who is sitting in her bouncy seat on the table, blowing raspberries and playing with her feet.

“No more headaches?” he asks and returns the wine and goblets to the kitchen, bringing us each a bottle of water instead.

“No, not in a couple days.” I grin at him. “Definitely no headache tonight.” I wiggle my eyebrows, making him chuckle and doing my best to distract him from talking too much about my day.

“Did the doctor call with the results of yesterday’s tests?” he asks and takes a bite of salad.

So much for that.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” I can’t look him in the eye now. I hate lying to him, even if it’s to surprise him. And this is a big deal, and I’m so excited! Maybe I should tell him…

“So, the headaches were probably from stress then?” he asks, looking thoughtful while he chews.

“That’s what the doctor thinks.” I take a sip of water and dig back into my saucy pasta. God, it’s good.

“I know you’ve had a lot on your plate, Stace. Maybe you should take a break from the blog for a while.”

Huh?

“Why would I do that?” I ask with a frown.

“Because you obviously have a lot going on, with Sophie and Brynna being home and everything.” He shrugs like this makes perfect sense to him.

“I love my blog. I love to read. The authors depend on me to help them promote their books, and write reviews, and I don’t want to take a break from it.”

“I’m not saying you should give it up altogether. Maybe just slow down. It takes up a lot of your time.”

“Are you saying that you don’t want me to keep doing the blog, Isaac?” I put my silverware down and stare at him. He’s never voiced this to me before. He’s always seemed to be so proud of me.

What the hell?

“No,” he frowns at me. “Jesus, I’m not an asshole. If you love it, keep doing it. The doctor said your headaches are caused by stress, and I’m just trying to think of ways to reduce your stress.”