Queen Move

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, but um…” I make sure the door is still closed. “I’ve also missed four periods.”

The reaction is instant and comes with a boom.

“What the hell, Kimba?” Lotus’ husky voice pops me on the head through the screen. “Did you take a pregnancy test?”

“Several.” I groan and tilt my head back to contemplate the ceiling. “All negative.”

“But could you be?”

I think back to my last hook-up. A unisex bathroom at the networking mixer off Fourteenth Street. It’s a blur of hand-blown chandeliers, bottomless mojitos, blond hair, hazel eyes, a medium-sized dick and a DIY orgasm, but I know we used protection. And I have IUD insurance.

“It shouldn’t be possible,” I say on a long exhale. “I took all the precautions, but nothing’s fail-proof, right?”

“Well, something must be up.”

“I have an appointment with my doctor. They drew blood a few days ago and are running several tests. I go in to discuss the results tomorrow.”

“Okay, we’ll figure it out, but first things first.” Lotus narrows dark eyes at me through the screen. “How much do we need to alter the dress so you can have it in time for the event?”

I reluctantly scroll the phone down my half-clothed figure to show her the poorly-fitting garment.

“Oh.” Lotus pastes on a smile. “I can work with that.”

“Lo, don’t play me.”

“No, I’m serious. Get Carla to take new measurements. Ship it to me next day. I’ll make the alterations myself with a little wiggle room and send it back immediately. Sound good?”

I swallow a lump in my throat, put there partially by her kindness and partially by the problem I’ve tried to shove to the back of my mind for weeks. It has pushed its way front and center today.

I paste on a smile of my own. “Thanks, Lo. Sounds great.”

Chapter Nine

Ezra

“Should we try to make love?”

Aiko presses her naked body to my back. She wasn’t nude when she came to bed last night, so I guess she stripped to enact this little scene. Her question feels clinical, premediated compared to how we first came together nearly a decade ago.

I was getting my Ed.D. at UCLA, and a classmate dragged me to a party in Sawtell, where I had off-campus housing. Outside, Aiko was running some kind of makeshift photo booth from a gazebo. We were instantly attracted, and I made a rare departure from my usually cautious coupling protocol. Within hours, we were in her tiny bedroom screwing loudly and raucously, trying our best between giggles and orgasms not to wake her ornery roommate.

Should we try to make love?

That urgent, passionate night feels like a millennium ago beside her tentative question this morning. For a moment, I consider faking a snore, but it’s that kind of avoidance behavior that has dragged this out for months.

Years?

Though Aiko and I never married, we’ve been together ten years, all Noah’s life and nearly a quarter of mine.

“Ezra?” Aiko pokes her breasts into my bare back. “Did you hear me? Are you awake?”

“I’m up,” I say, my voice sleep-scratched and reluctant.

“And?” She slides her hand around to my cock. “You want to? Should we try?”

Try? Does she even hear herself?