SEAL the Deal by Kate Aster

pull
the slippery meat from the shell.
    Bess recoiled at the sight.
    “Squirmy little devil.” Maeve dipped the
oyster in cocktail sauce and hand-fed it to Jack, deciding not to offer one to
Bess who was turning three shades of green. Another chunk of meat snapped from
the shell like elastic and Maeve swirled it in cocktail sauce. Cocking her
head, she watched Bess shrinking in her chair. “You okay, Bess?”
    As a glob of sauce slid off the oyster’s
slick body, Bess covered her mouth. “Excuse me!” she murmured, bolting from the
table in the direction of the restroom.
    Lacey slapped her napkin on the table. “I
better check on her.”
    Maeve watched Lacey race after Bess, and
weighed whether she should follow. She had never done well at the sight of
someone throwing up. Not even in college. And from the look on Bess’s face,
Maeve guessed she was praising the porcelain god right now. “I shouldn’t have
dragged her out.”
    Jack gave a sage nod. “Yeah, I think the
oysters just tipped her over the edge. When is she due?”
    “What?” Maeve asked blankly.
    “When is your friend due?”
    “Due for what?”
    Mick sliced a finger against his throat to
signal Jack to shut up.
    Jack looked confused. “To deliver, I
guess.”
    “You think she is pregnant?”
    “Um, yeah.”
    Maeve bristled. Thank God Bess wasn’t here
to hear this. “She’s not pregnant. She’s not even fat. Jack, you shouldn’t
assume a woman is pregnant just because she’s a little thick in the middle.”
    “I didn’t say she was fat or thick in the
middle. But she’s definitely pregnant.”
    “How would you know and I not know?” Maeve
said, clearly offended.
    Jack began, “I have…”
    “Four sisters,” Mick completed. “Yeah,
you’ve mentioned that.”
    Jack looked nonplussed. “Nausea, bulky
clothes, not drinking, and with that kind of reaction to the sight of raw
oysters? It’s a no-brainer. First trimester, I guarantee it.”
    Maeve fell silent, staring blankly at
random reflections dancing in her glass of Pinot Grigio as she distilled the
information.
    In a daze, she politely dabbed the sides
of her mouth with her napkin. “You’ll excuse me. I have to check my lipstick.”
    Pregnant. The word hovered in the air, thick and smothering,
nearly causing Maeve to gasp for breath as she made her way across the bar.
    Bess is pregnant? It made perfect sense. She
should have figured it out a long time ago.
    Bess. Pregnant.
    How was Maeve going to stand that? Living
under the same roof with the one thing she desperately wanted and could not
have. She had the world convinced she disliked children—that she’d never lose
precious sleep for late-night feedings or tolerate a minefield of Fisher-Price
toys on her antique Aubusson rug.
    But it was a lie—one that was easier
to live with than the truth.
    The restroom door creaked open and the
stench of sickness struck her. Lacey was holding back Bess’s hair as she
emptied her stomach, apologizing profusely in between each heave.
    Maeve covered her mouth, flashbacks to her
party years in college making her feel even worse. She glanced away. “Is there
anything I can do?”
    Bess collapsed on the bathroom floor. She
shook her head weakly.
    Maeve forced herself to touch Bess’s
shoulder. “This is all my fault. You said you didn’t want to come and I forced
you. I’m so sorry. God, you were napping.” Maeve suddenly saw another clue she
had so easily dismissed just hours earlier. “I should have left you alone.”
    “It’s not your fault. There was just
something about those oysters.”
    Maeve tried to ignore the dirt on the
floor as she sat on the floor next to them. “Bess, are you—maybe—pregnant?”
    Lacey jerked her head to look at Maeve,
realization dawning in her eyes.
    Bess, already pale, turned at least three
shades lighter. “Eleven weeks,” came her mumbled response.
    “Wow.” Lacey let out a slow breath.
    Bess shook her head, in obvious despair.