"You would call Travis before you called either of us." I laugh. "Because he wouldn't ask you a million questions as to why you were there."
"This is true," Shelby says. "Why would you be arrested to begin with?"
I open the text now. "Shall I read this out loud to save everyone from guessing what this important discussion was about?"
"Yes." Shelby smiles. "Save me the time of reading it."
I look down at the text message. "Have you guys heard the ten-minute song from Taylor Swift?"
Looking over at Shelby, I answer, "I have not."
"Ten-minute song?" Shelby asks, shocked. "Who the hell has that time?" She looks over at Clarabella.
"I listened to it going home the other day." Clarabella shrugs. "And then I got sucked down the rabbit hole about who the song was about."
"Who’s the song about?" I ask, not sure why I'm suddenly intrigued by this.
"Jake Gyllenhaal," Clarabella shares, looking at both me and Clarabella. "Apparently, they dated when Taylor was nineteen."
"Wait, isn't she like thirtysomething now?" Shelby grabs her phone, no doubt opening Google.
"She's thirty-two now," Clarabella informs us. "Anyway, she left a scarf at his sister’s house, and she never got it back."
"Let me get this straight." I hold up my hand. "She dated him over ten years ago and has now made a ten-minute song about it."
"Yes," Clarabella says.
"She can afford another scarf," Shelby declares, and I nod, agreeing with her.
"It's not about the scarf!” Clarabella shouts. "It's about him keeping it."
"She needs to get over the scarf," Shelby says.
"You know who is probably looking for that scarf." I look at both my sisters. "Jake's new girlfriend." They both laugh. "She is the only one who is walking around the house saying, where the fuck is that scarf?"
"Facts," Clarabella says. "Why keep it? Isn't it bad karma?"
"Maybe it was cashmere," Shelby reasons, getting up. "Whatever it was, I'm happy I didn't waste my time answering that ridiculous text message."
"Same," I say at the same time that the phone buzzes in my hand and the front door chimes, letting us know that someone just walked in. "That is my three o'clock." I get up from my desk. "Is my lipstick still on?"
"Yes." Clarabella nods. I walk out of my office and toward the waiting room, seeing my bride and groom. They are both looking around the room at some of the sample flower arrangements we have out.
"Hello," I greet, smiling and walking to the bride first. I've learned that you always, and I mean always, go to the woman first so she doesn't think you are trying to get her man. "I'm Presley." I hold out my hand for her.
"I'm Jenna," she replies with a smile, extending her hand to me. "This is my fiancé, Robert," she says of the groom who now turns around and smiles at me, extending his hand. The smell of his cologne is so strong my stomach lurches.
"Nice to meet you," he says to me, and I just smile. Breathing in through my mouth and not my nose.
"Shall we take a walk outside?" I suggest, trying to get out of this closed space. "So we can see the grounds, and then we can take a walk to the venue space." They look at each other and then nod at me. "If you will follow me," I say, turning to lead the way out. The hot air does nothing about the smell. My stomach feels like it's moving up to my throat. "You will see that we have chances for pictures over here." I start pitching the venue. After doing this so many times, it's like a script, but the whole time I'm just trying to breathe easy and not barf all over the place.
"It's very pretty," Jenna observes, looking at Robert as they share a smile. I keep a smile on my face at the same time that the wind blows, and I get another whiff of his cologne.
"If you guys will just give me a minute," I say, turning and walking back up the steps as fast as I can. "Shelby!" I shout her name as soon as I walk inside, running to the desk and grabbing the garbage can right before I lose my breakfast.
"Oh my God." I hear Clarabella rushing to me as the wave of vomit comes again.
Tears are filling my eyes, and all I can do is point at the door toward where I left the couple.
"Got it,” Shelby confirms, walking out and leaving me with Clarabella.
"I'll get you water,” Clarabella says and all I can do is close my eyes before I throw up again.
"Oh my God, what did you eat?" Clarabella opens the top and hands me the bottle. I rinse out my mouth, spitting into the garbage before taking a sip.
"Bagel and cream cheese," I say, sitting on the floor now but not moving away from the garbage bin.
"Maybe the cheese wasn't good,” Clarabella suggests.
"I was fine until Rico Suave out there came in bathed in Abercrombie and Fitch cologne," I share, my stomach lurching just from thinking about it.
"Well, whatever it is, you should go home,” Clarabella states. "I'll go get your purse and stuff."
"Thank you," I say, grabbing my phone and texting Bennett.
Me: How are you feeling?
I send the text and close my eyes to fight back the nausea when the phone beeps in my hand.
Bennett: Better now that you texted. Why?
Me: No reason.
"Here you go." Clarabella comes out with my purse and my garbage can. "And I called Mom and she said if it was the cream cheese, you would have known right away because it would have tasted sour."
"Why the hell would you call Mom?" I huff, standing up now.
"You are her baby. Can you imagine if I didn't call her?" She shakes her head. "I'm not dealing with that. I have enough to deal with. Now call me when you get home."
"Whatever," I say, grabbing my bag and the garbage bag. The minute I take two steps, I get another whiff of the cologne, and I groan and rush out to my car.
I start the car and get the air-conditioning going before pulling up my phone and googling why in the world I'm throwing up cream cheese. I scan the list, and it's the basic lactose intolerance. I roll my eyes when I see pregnancy. Then snort-laugh at that thought. "As if," I say, opening my period calculator app on my phone. The red dot in the middle says DAY 4. "No, no, no, no, no," I say, my heart beating so fast I can't hear anything else but the echo.
I throw my phone down on the passenger seat, the nausea not even on my mind as I make my way to the pharmacy. My head is spinning around and around, and I literally feel like I'm not in my own body. Parking, I grab my purse and head into the pharmacy. I speed walk down the aisles, not even sure where one finds pregnancy tests. I spot them above the condoms, and I look around before grabbing two boxes in one hand and then adding three more of other brands.
I make no eye contact when I pay for them, and the drive home has to be the longest drive of my life. It's almost like I'm going forward but taking fifteen steps backward. My neck burns, and my hands shake and get clammy. I don't even grab anything from the car but the pharmacy bag and the keys. Every single step to the bathroom feels like my feet are filled with cement. "This isn't happening," I say to myself, spilling the boxes on the bathroom counter. I pick up a box and start to read the instructions. "I need to pee,” I mumble, walking to the toilet and then walking back to grab a test. "But if one is defective, how am I going to pee again?" I have a conversation with myself when I see the glass on the counter. "I'm going to pee in the cup and then dunk the tests in them." My heart feels like it's going to come out of my mouth. "Then I'm going to spin it and play Russian roulette." If I wasn't so fucking scared, this would make me laugh.