My Rockstar's Secret Baby

And as I pressed play, I reached into my purse and drew out my other impulse of the day and ripped open the cardboard box.

It was a hunch, but certainty was better than worry. The first album playing in my wireless headphones, I headed to the bathroom.

The time it took for the result was almost as nerve wracking as the time I had to take an STD test ‘just in case’ after an incident with a faulty condom. Finally, the answer came, as clear as it was confusing.

Positive.

I was positively pregnant with Ragnar’s baby.

Elation and terror clashed like opposing armies, neither with the obvious upper hand, the battlefield choked with smoke and blood. The music in my ears the perfect soundtrack for the strange film unspooling in my head.

Reality bit, and it was time to make a decision.

My phone pinged and I groaned, not in the mood to deal with anyone right now, my mind racing.

“Really?” I asked out loud to myself.

Pausing the song, I switched to the message to see what it could be about, and my heart pounded when I saw his name.

Ragnar: Want to meet for lunch?

My thumb moved by itself as I tapped out my reply. Only four little letters, back lit on the screen, four letters that could change everything forever.

Me: Okay.

The waist of my skirt suddenly seemed to pinch more than usual. There were all identical, so I couldn’t blame the individual garment. It felt like I had expanded, even though it was impossible.

It hadn’t been that long since Ragnar must have knocked me up, but imagination is a powerful thing.

I was honestly surprised it could be tested for so soon. Yet, there it was, in blue and white. I rubbed my belly again, even thought there was no real change, not yet.

Pat didn’t try to be cheerful as I signed in. Something about my demeanor must have let him know it was best not to. Fair enough, considering I felt— and most likely looked— like absolute hell.

Stress can do that to you.

“Ms. Morris?”

Maddie knocked on the half open door, afraid to come in without invitation. I checked to see if I suddenly had snakes growing out of my head.

“Come in, Maddie.”

She was carrying a large sample box, which could only mean one thing. Fawn had come through. Just in time.

“The samples from Ms. Birch have arrived.”

“That’s great, just put them, on my desk.”

Obeying my instruction, Maddie was gone again, closing the office behind her. The habit I’d gotten her into within week of her starting.

The pieces were beautiful. Exactly the number I’d asked for lined up separate rows, a name marker attached above each of the sections. They were exceptionally good suggestions I was sure would fit the line well.

Too bad it wasn’t really up to me. Even as Artistic Director my powers were limited. I could make recommendations, but what a product was called was ultimately up to marketing.

They were the geniuses who had come up with the name for the new line and basically left it up to me to figure out what the hell that meant.

But it would still be up to them to name the individual items. It wasn’t really fair, but something I just had to put up with. Despite any ambitions, Asgard Fine Jewelry was in the business of sales, not art.

The designs reminded me of Ragnar. Particularly the leather bracelets he wore. It looked like the design marked into them was a traditional rendition of Loki, which stood to reason.

I tried to put him out my mind, so I could at least try and eat some work done, before going to meet him for lunch.

I hoped it was clear enough. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to sleep with him, I just wasn’t really up to it right then.

So, a restaurant it was, neutral ground bereft of any sexual undertones, making it clear I wasn’t available for our usual kind of fun. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to see him though. If anything, having our baby growing inside me made me feel even more connected.

I just needed to be sure that we had a chance at a future together before I told him. It might not be an issue at all if what was happened was just a fling. I wouldn’t find out unless I saw him.

He was dressed surprisingly nicely. Still like himself, but in a way that wouldn’t get him turned away from the door of the Cedar Lounge. His bracelets weren’t gone but hidden under a black button up shirt.

He still wore a band shirt underneath, though, the collar of which I could see just peeking from the gap at the top. Rather than his usual chucks, he wore old but polished boots, that could easily pass for dress shoes when worn with long pants.