Unexpectedly Expecting || BWWM

Two weeks after my infamous hookup, life finally returned to normal. Zyla had stopped bringing it up—mostly—and I had all but forgotten about him. My focus was on getting back to work, paying bills, and pretending that night had never happened.

As I approached Page & Turner, the cozy bookstore I worked at, I spotted Jeffrey through the front window. He was perched at the register, as usual, engrossed in some hardcover. The man could sell books and charm customers better than anyone I'd ever met. 

The store was popular, though I couldn't quite figure out why—it always felt like a relic of the past, thriving in a digital world. Maybe it was Jeffrey himself. People—especially women—loved him. It probably helped that he looked annoyingly good for a 56-year-old.

"Morning, boss!" I called as I walked in.

Jeffrey looked up, his face lighting up. "There she is! I was hoping you'd show up today. I've got something for you."

I groaned. "Jeff, how many times do I have to tell you? Stop buying me things."

"Ah, but you know I never listen," he teased, pulling a small velvety box from behind the counter. "Here. Open it."

I hesitated, already knowing whatever was inside would be far too much. Slowly, I flipped the box open, and my jaw dropped. A pearl necklace. Not just any pearl necklace—each shimmering pearl was separated by delicate rhinestones that sparkled like starlight.

"Jeffrey, I can't accept this." I immediately tried to hand it back, but he shook his head firmly. "You can, and you will. Besides, I didn't buy it. My son did."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your son? The same one who got upset last time you gave away his stuff? Are you sure he's okay with me having this?"

"He'll survive. It didn't work out with the girl he bought it for, anyway. I'm just ensuring it goes to someone who'll appreciate it."

I sighed, knowing better than to argue with him. "Thank you. I mean it." I carefully placed the box in my bag, making a mental note to never wear it around his son.

Jeffrey glanced at his watch, then grabbed his blazer. "Speaking of my son, he's coming by later. We've got... some things to discuss." His tone shifted slightly, more serious than usual.

"Sounds important," I remarked, sitting down behind the register and pulling a snack from the drawer.

"It always is." He sighed, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Anyway, you've got this handled, right? I'll be back later."

"Go. I've got it." I waved him off with a smile.

Once he was gone, the store settled into a peaceful hum. A few customers browsed quietly, flipping through books or murmuring to one another. I loved this part of the job—calm, steady, predictable. That peace didn't last long.

The front door swung open with a loud chime, and in strolled Zyla, her arms full of magazines. "Look at you! So bored without me. You poor thing," she teased, dropping the stack onto the counter.

"Thanks for the donation," I said dryly, grabbing the magazines and stuffing them onto the shelf behind me. "We'll cherish them forever."

"Oh, you will. Especially the one with all the rich guys on the cover. Inspiration, you know?" She grinned and pulled a paper bag from her purse. "Brought you breakfast."

The smell hit me like a freight train. My stomach churned violently, and I immediately pinched my nose.

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, get that away from me."

Zyla frowned. "You okay?"

"I think I caught a stomach bug. The smell of food is... not helping."

Her eyes narrowed, and I could practically hear the gears turning in her head. "Better be a stomach bug and not something... else."

I glared at her. "Don't start."

"I'm just saying." She shrugged, tucking the sandwich back into her bag. "Anyway, you should come by Mom's for dinner tonight. Or just hang out."

"Sounds thrilling," I said sarcastically.

"As long as I'm there, it will be," she replied smugly before turning to leave. "Later, loser!"

"Bye, weirdo." I laughed, shaking my head as she waltzed out, shooting finger guns at me.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of customers, inventory, and the occasional chat with regulars. It was busy enough to keep my mind occupied, but by the time my shift ended, I was utterly drained. Dragging myself home, I barely had the energy to shower before collapsing into bed. I didn't even bother setting an alarm. Sleep came quickly, and I welcomed it.

---

When I woke up, it was pitch black outside. My head felt foggy, my limbs heavy. I checked my phone—nearly 12 hours had passed. That was... weird. I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes. The nausea from earlier had dulled, but something still felt off. Dismissing it as exhaustion, I got up and headed to the kitchen to grab some water. As I sipped, my mind wandered back to Zyla's teasing. A little human? No. Absolutely not. I was on the pill. I was careful. There was no way.

Right?

The thought gnawed at me, refusing to let go. Finally, I sighed, grabbed my phone, and texted Zyla.

Me: Hypothetically, how early can you find out if you're... you know.

Her reply came almost instantly.

Zyla: HYPOTHETICALLY?! IVORY, ARE YOU PREGNANT???

Me: No! Just answer the question!

Zyla: You can test like two weeks after... the deed. Are you late??

Me: No

I don't check my calendar or apps scared of the reality. I'll deal with it later. 

It's probably just the flu