“I think it’s a great idea.” I really love how easy they all are to be around, and how, even though I don’t see them often, we have such a great time together and I always feel like part of things.

Our conversation is put on pause when we arrive at the spa and go our separate ways for our massage appointments. I almost fall asleep again during my massage, probably because it’s so relaxing. It’s followed by a heavenly facial. Afterwards, we meet up again for our mani-pedis.

Our manicures are first, and once our nails are set, we’re given snack plates and plenty of drink options while our toes get pretty. I have a headache, so I opt for water.

After our pedicures, we’re moved to the lounge, where we’re supposed to wait for our toes to dry. I take the opportunity to make myself a coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar and a smidge of cream. Then I take a small sip. Just like this morning, it tastes sour. I take another sip. Nope. Still tastes wrong.

“Everything okay, Hanna?” Lainey asks.

“Twice today I’ve had coffee that tastes like the cream is off.”

“Want me to give it a taste?”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What if I’m coming down with something?” It’s entirely possible with the way I’ve been burning the candle at both ends lately.

“I can do a cream sniff test?” she offers.

“Sure.” I pass her the tiny pot of cream and she wafts it toward her nose.

“Smells fine to me.”

“Maybe my taste buds are off.”

“Every time I was preggers, three things happened,” Violet says and motions to her chest. “My bras stopped fitting because my boobs turned into giant balloons and I’d punch Alex every time he tried to touch them because they were so sensitive, dairy always tasted funky, and I could sleep like a teenager.”

“Oh! Yes! My boobs were so sore. I couldn’t sleep on my stomach at all,” Lainey says.

“Wow, way to sell me on not getting pregnant any time soon,” Stevie deadpans. She and Bishop have been together for years, but they still haven’t jumped on the baby train. Yet.

I chuckle, but it turns into something like a croak. I covertly press on my chest and cringe at how tender my breasts are. I assumed my body was being its weird self by making it seem like my period was coming. I’ve been having phantom PMS symptoms for the past year, and only once every three months do I actually get a “period.”

I’ve been exhausted lately, sleeping for twelve hours and still feeling like I could sleep longer. And then there’s the coffee.

“Hanna? Are you okay?” Lainey asks.

“I-I don’t know.” I cover my mouth with my palm. “Everything Violet said, that could be me.”

Silence follows, thick and heavy.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m just run down,” I rush on. “I’ve been working long hours at my accounting firm. One of my big clients had an audit, and I’m being considered for a promotion.”

“That’s exciting, about the promotion,” Vi says. “I miss the constant work sometimes, but I like picking and choosing what jobs I want to take.” She’s also an accountant, but she mostly does freelance work.

“I thought it was a good move,” I agree. “But it means late nights and early mornings to keep on top of things, you know?”

“That’s really wonderful about the promotion.” Lainey glances toward the door as she shifts in her seat, turning to face me. It’s the four of us in here. “But is there a chance you could be pregnant?” Her expression is full of gentle concern. It’s very much the way she is, always maternal.

“I don’t know?” I swallow down my uneasiness. “I’ve been perimenopausal for a long while. My periods are irregular, and really short when I do have them.”

Lainey’s smile is soft. “Even during menopause you’re still releasing eggs, and sometimes your body goes a little haywire, so they lose the steady rhythm they once had. Or your cycle can be influenced by others around you.” She motions to Stevie and Violet. “I’m synced up with these ladies because we spend so much time together.”

“What are the odds, though?” I wish I had a paper bag to breathe into.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” Stevie says.

I’m not sure if I imagine her suspicion or if I’m being paranoid. “I don’t.” I give my head a shake. “I mean, it’s casual. It’s not a serious relationship. What am I going to do if…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence. Then it’s far too real.

“It could be that you’re tired, or that your body is following a stronger cycle. Hold on.” Lainey grabs her purse from the floor and roots around in it.

At first I think she’s looking for her phone, as if she’s going to do some research on the subject, but I’m surprised when she pulls out a pregnancy test.

“I’ve been buying these in bulk for years. I carry them with me everywhere.” She rolls her eyes at herself and hands it to me.

“Do you think I should take this now?” I hold it like it’s a dismembered limb, not a tiny device to pee on.

“They’re most accurate when they’re taken in the morning, but false positives aren’t really possible, so if you are pregnant, you’ll know right away. I can stand outside the bathroom door if you want,” she offers.

“It’s okay. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” I push up out of the chair on unsteady legs.

Violet jumps up and takes my arm. She’s a head shorter than me, and a tiny thing, apart from her chest. “We’re all here for you, Hanna,” she says, her voice softening. “Whatever happens, we’ve got your back.”

I appreciate that I have a girl gang to rely on right now. I wish Pax was here. She’s been my go-to forever.

I slip inside the bathroom and lock the door. It’s a nice bathroom, much nicer than the one I was in thirty years ago where I found out for the first time that my entire life was about to change.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m not a teenage girl. And that I haven’t had a regular period in two years.

There’s no way I can be pregnant.

In less than five minutes I’ll be laughing about my paranoia. And chugging a glass of champagne. Or a bottle.

I unwrap the test and read the instructions. One blue line means not pregnant, two blue lines that cross mean I am pregnant.

Got it.

I take a deep breath and try to force the pee out. Of course, now I’m having pee stage fright. I turn on the tap, hoping it’s going to help me out. It does the trick.

I manage to get my hand as well as the stick, which is gross, but not unexpected considering the day I’m having.

I grab a handful of toilet paper and set the test on the vanity. Then wipe myself and wash my hands, humming “Happy Birthday” twice, all the way through.

I take a deep breath, not wanting to look at the test until the two minutes is up.

I take a quick peek.

Then another one.

Looks like that mimosa is off the table.

CHAPTER NINE

Complicated, Times Two