A Pregnancy Scandal by Kat Cantrell

forward, clearly hoping to avoid the topic of suppliers and cost of goods.
    â€œI have an appointment Thursday. I can suffer in silence until then. Now, about the pumice supp—”
    â€œI’ll go with you,” Harper interjected smoothly. “To the appointment. Let me drive you.”
    â€œI can drive myself—” Alex sighed as she cut herself off. Maybe she spent so much time alone because she constantly drove people away. After all, it wasn’t like she’d said anything to Phillip about spending time together. He probably didn’t even know she’d hoped to. “You know what? That sounds nice.”
    â€œIt’s a date, then,” Harper said. “Cass called a meeting this afternoon to talk about her progress on finding the leak, or lack thereof. Check your calendar. She just scheduled it.”
    Alex groaned. Someone in Fyra had leaked information to the media about Formula-47, which had nearly cost the company everything. Since they hadn’t found the culprit yet, they’d decided to go forward with obtaining FDA approval before Harper felt ready, strictly to stave off damaging effects of the leak.
    Another meeting with little progress. It was maddening. “Okay, thanks for the heads-up.”
    Back to business. That was a good way to get her mind off Phillip. Except she had a suspicion it wouldn’t work.
    Alex didn’t exactly suffer in silence until Thursday. It was a little difficult when Fyra’s chief science officer had taken on a personal mission to check on Alex ten times a day. Harper’s pointed, yet loving, questions were hard to ignore, especially when Alex craved companionship. Alex found herself being honest about how she felt—physically at least, as the angst about Phillip was too hard for her to justify to herself, let alone to someone else. And she even let Harper run to 7-Eleven to fetch ginger ale a couple of times. On Thursday, true to her word, Harper popped into Alex’s office, keys in hand, to drive her to the doctor.
    â€œLet’s go,” Harper chirped and steered Alex into the two-seater Mercedes her friend had recently bought.
    The smell of new car and leather engulfed Alex as she settled into the seat. “Thanks. For being there. I didn’t realize how much I’d need hand-holding.”
    â€œSure. That’s what friends are for.” Harper had tamed her red curls into a bun today, returning her to a more serious look.
    Of her three business partners, Alex had always had the most in common with Harper, as they both approached life analytically. They’d had matching T-shirts in college that read Left-Brained Women Are Sexier. No one but the two of them had thought the saying was funny.
    Thank God Alex had her friends during this challenging period. It didn’t fully alleviate the loneliness of a big empty house, but Alex had solved that problem by going into the office early and staying until 10:00 p.m. Numbers were her refuge; always had been.
    Phillip had called, as promised, every night at 10:30 p.m. and asked how she was feeling. It was nice that he took the time, but she was usually exhausted, so their conversations had been short. She then fell into Phillip-laced dreams, where he held her during the night and stroked her hair, then her skin. His lips would seek out the hollow of her throat and their urgency would increase until they were both naked and panting each other’s names.
    Hormones. They were killing her.
    When the time for her appointment came, Alex’s obstetrician, Dr. Dean, listened to her concerns about the severity of her morning sickness. “I’d like to do an ultrasound.”
    Dr. Dean had mentioned on Alex’s first visit that she didn’t typically do ultrasounds until around eighteen weeks to verify the baby was growing correctly, and also to determine gender, which Alex very much wanted to know ahead of time.
    â€œAn ultrasound? But