Josh and Gemma Make a Baby(75)

That’s all I need.





It’s Monday.

I skipped babysitting on Friday and the post-Valentine’s Day pot roast on Sunday. I couldn’t face my family or the possibility that Josh would be at the meal. I couldn’t face it. I feel scraped raw. Plus, I’m exhausted and have constant stabbing cramps that make it feel like my period is on the way.

I looked up cramping in the fertility and pregnancy online forums and almost everyone agreed—cramps are a sign of early pregnancy.

The Live Your Best Life Virtual Conference begins in a few minutes.

We’re all set up with a large poster backdrop, lighting, cameras, microphones, the works. Ian is in a tall chair in the corner getting his makeup and hair done. The sound technicians have already done their checks and the cameras are waiting to feed to the live stream.

I’ve been here since five in the morning getting ready for our nine a.m. start. I check my computer and see that almost twenty thousand people are already logged on waiting for the feeds to go live and for me to give my introduction.

Nearly the entire staff is at their desks, helping with the Q&A, the chats, the loading of the presentations and making sure the day goes smoothly. Lavinia has been tearing around the room reprimanding interns, scolding junior staff members, and for the most part, acting like a banshee. Today, I appreciate it. Her iron fist is going to make sure this whole thing goes off without a hitch.

Ian gets down from his makeup chair and strides across the office. He comes and stands in the stage area beside me. I have to admit, he looks great, like the perfect self-help guru. He gives me his toothy, bright white smile.

“All set, Gemma? My introduction is in…”—he looks down at his sapphire-faced watch—“fifteen minutes.”

I brush my hair back from my face and nod. I’m wearing one of my new dresses, a classic gray shift with a black belt.

“We aren’t going to have any problems, right? All water under the bridge? Keep it professional.” He looks at me from the side of his eyes as he smiles at the cameras. “Let bygones be bygones.”

I glance at him in surprise. That’s the same thing he said to Josh on the sidewalk. “Sure,” I say.

We have little microphones attached to our collars, and I don’t want to say anything, because I’m not sure whether or not the techs are listening. Lavinia is at the sound board, she’s watching me with her usual lemon-sucking frown and eagle-eyed stare.

Oh well.

“How about you practice your introductory remarks one final time. I can give you last-minute pointers on your performance,” Ian says.

“Alright,” I swallow and try to let go of the nerves that have been jangling around inside me since I woke up at three thirty this morning.

Ian steps close to me so that our elbows nearly touch. He’s wearing his usual cologne, and it still smells like pine-sol and musty wood shavings.

He leans in and says in a low voice that I used to find sexy, “Go ahead, Gemma.”

I clear my throat. The professional lights are bright and hot. I wipe away the drip of sweat at my hairline. I’ve been dizzy for the last hour, but I pushed through. This conference is important. It’s going to help thousands of people. A little dizziness can’t get in the way.

When I take a deep breath and stare into the camera black dots dance in my vision. A sharp cramp stabs my abdomen. I shake my head and clear my throat again.

“Welcome to the Live Your Best Life Virtual Conference,” I begin. My voice sounds like I’m speaking through a long tube. It’s far away and shaky. Another pain stabs at my abdomen. I blink away the dizziness. “We are so pleased to welcome you to the biggest event of the year, where world-renowned, self-help…”

I gasp at a sharp stabbing pain.

Ian shifts on his feet and frowns at me.

“Self-help expert and…”

I press my hand to my abdomen. It hurts. It hurts more than my period. It hurts more than…it shouldn’t hurt like this.

“Gemma,” Ian says from the side of his mouth, “what the hell is wrong with you?”

My face drains of blood and I feel cold and hot at the same time.

Ian scowls at me. He takes my arm with his hand and gives me a little shake. “Wake up. Try again, will you?”

I see Lavinia at the sound desk glare at us, then narrow her eyes on Ian. She moves over to the computer controlling the live stream.

Another wave of dizziness hits.

“Something’s wrong,” I whisper.

Ian digs his fingers into my arm. “Pull yourself together. Do your job.”

I press my hand into my abdomen and try to lessen the cramping.

I start again. “Welcome to the Live Your Best Life Virtual Conference. We are so pleased to welcome you to the biggest event of the year, where world-renowned, self-help guru Ian Fortune will help you become the best version…”

I gasp and look around the office.

Everyone is watching. The interns, the junior staff, the programmers, the videographers, they’re all watching.

“The best version of your…of your…”

Ian looks at me with his teeth barred and gestures for me to continue.

“Of yourself. The best version of yourself.”

I look around the room, at the walls covered in inspirational quotes, at the cameras and the lights, at my colleagues standing in a semi-circle, and at the monitors showing twenty-thousand participants waiting for the live stream.