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One wrong whiff of a chicken being hauled past me and I’ll be embarrassing myself and our table.

God. Sometimes being pregnant truly sucks. I might be used to the idea, growing excited on the best days to think about raising a child, but mostly it’s just terrifying and nauseating and now, on a night when Braxton’s planned to hand me a slice of fun, all I can think of is my food ending up all over the floor.

Shit.

“You look white as a sheet,” Braxton says. He presses his hand to my forehead and scowls. “And you’re hot. Why didn’t you tell me you’re not feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” I grit out.

“Um, you don’t look fine,” Jenna says. She circles her finger in the air, gesturing toward my face. “You look sick.”

“Just a wave of morning-slash-all-day sickness. It’ll pass. I promise.”

She gives me a concerned look and glances at Braxton. “We can go somewhere else.”

“Good idea.” He crumples his napkin on the table.

I grab on to his forearm as he stands from the table. “No, we don’t have to. I love this place.”

It’s true. I do. And I flash him pleading eyes. I hate we’re making such a fuss when I’ve already changed the restaurant we were originally going to go to. This sucks. And yet, as Braxton grins down at me, he’s not the least bit annoyed.

“I want you to have a good night with friends, the place doesn’t mean shit to me. Let me go speak to the host and explain what’s going on and settle our tab.”

We’ve ordered nothing except the champagne that was free, but it’s not easy to get reservations on a Saturday. If I’ve made him waste money, I’m going to kick myself.

“It’s fine,” Jenna says. “We’ll go wherever sounds good to you, or back to Braxton’s and get pizza or takeout. I just want to hang out. It’s been a while. Plus—” she grins and winks, “—I want to keep swooning over the way Braxton looks at you.”

She’s delusional. “Jenna—” I warn.

“How does he look at her?” Dan asks.

“Like he wants to get her alone and rip that dress off her.” She grins.

Dan laughs and shakes his head. “What does that look like?”

She leans toward her husband and grins wickedly. “Sort of like you did earlier, when I came down wearing this dress.”

“Ah.” He nods. Jenna flushes. Their cuteness might be what makes me puke. “Now I get it.”

“Gross,” I moan and they both turn to me, cheeks flushed with apparently a night of loving already taken care of, or at least started. “Stop.”

“Come on.” Jenna stands, and Dan helps her into her coat before coming to my side and helping me with mine. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know. Give me a minute to think about it.”

I wait until we’re out of the elevator, the quick speed rushing through me and giving me a small dose of motion sickness, something else I get to thank pregnancy for.

When we’re out in the fresh air, Jenna asks me again.

“You know, I think nachos sound great. And chips and salsa, maybe some queso.” I’m already dreaming of a hot and spicy burrito from El Gaucho when Braxton laughs.

“Got it. Let’s roll.”

—

“This whole night reminds me exactly why I’m not planning on knocking you up anytime soon, babe.” This comes from Dan in the backseat of Braxton’s car.

“Excuse me?”