Paris was fabulous. I want to move there. We did all of the typical tourist sites the first two days (including the Notre Dame the day before the fire. I’m so glad Brady made sure we went inside). I ate my weight in pastries, macarons and fucking cheese, but we did so much walking that it doesn’t count.

My favorite things were everything; like I would literally move there in a heartbeat. It’s like urban but beautiful and everyone is well dressed and snooty and smokes cigarettes all day. I imagine pursuing a career as an artist there – painting all day at my gallery and drinking and socializing in the evenings. I’d wear midi length dresses with red lipstick, leather jackets or wool trench coats and Gucci sneakers. We took a day trip to Versailles which is where I’ll be living after my move to Paris.

We were only there for five days which is not nearly enough time. We didn’t even go clubbing. I can’t wait to go back, but also I need to travel more in general. There’s so much more of the world to see!

When we got back to New York, I was exhausted and felt icky. I’d felt the same way in Paris, but I figured it was from walking around so much and eating literally everything I laid my eyes on. Brady went back to work immediately, but I worked from home since clearly I had a stomach bug with my tiredness, constipation and puking. Getting the whole sick would be irresponsible!

After being sick all weekend, Brady was over me being a baby (first of all, I never get sick so I get a pass and secondly, Brady becomes the hugest baby when he is sick), so I went to urgent care to get some medicine.

This is kind of fucked up, but the nurse who helped me looked exactly like someone who Brady should be with. Small frame, dark brown hair pulled up into a ponytail, angular face, boring. She looked like she runs marathons on the weekends, but also lifts one day a week so she isn’t too skinny. Like Brady would look great with her and I’m sure his mom would love her. I could picture them all being a big, happy family.

“Are you sure aren’t pregnant?” she asked, after reviewing my symptoms and doing like, one test.

“I’m sure. I’ve been on birth control for years.” It didn’t even cross my mind because I was having all day sickness, not just morning sickness. I’ve also been on birth control for so long that I didn’t even think I was fertile anymore. I haven’t had a regular period in literal years.

“Okay,” Mallory, PA, said, smiling at me condescendingly. “Why don’t we take a quick test to make sure? I want to rule out all possibilities before sending you out of here with no answers.”

At first I was going to refuse because Mallory was being annoying, but then I decided to humor her. It would be nice to prove her wrong. She had me pee into a little cup and then left for twenty minutes.

Finally, Mallory came back empty handed and sat her ass down on the stool. “You are indeed pregnant, my friend.”

I just stared at her.

“I recommend seeing an OB as soon as possible. For your morning sickness, I’ve heard of women eating ginger candy or Preggie Pops…”

Brady’s new girlfriend was really trying to tell me I was pregnant.

“That’s impossible,” I let her know.

“Your OB will give you another test to confirm,” she said, smiling.

After I left, I made an appointment with some random gyno I found on ZocDoc because I hadn’t even been to the doctor since I moved to New York. Brady didn’t come home until 10 PM, thank goodness. I sat on the couch drinking wine and Googling pregnancy symptoms all evening even though I still had a ton of work to catch up on. I was also texting Brendan who was filling me in on a meeting that I’d missed where Mike had a temper tantrum. So sad I missed that.

The next morning, the gyno confirmed what Mallory said. I argued with this woman also letting her know that I was on birth control and telling her about my lack of periods. And this woman pulled out a chart and a calendar so we could talk about how it was possible for me to get pregnant.

“By not taking your birth control correctly, you created the opportunity to get pregnant. Birth control pills are only effective if you use them right.”

And then she had to do an ultrasound to see how far along I was since I couldn’t remember the last time I had a period. A fucking ultrasound. I was numb. She stuck the tube up and blocked the little tv screen with her body so I couldn’t see anything.

“It looks like you’re about six weeks,” she told me.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I said out loud. Six weeks. Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past six weeks? Not treating my body like there was a baby growing in it, that’s for sure. I thought about the many, many happy hours I’d attended with Kristina and Brendan and all the wine I’d consumed in Paris.

I sat there dumbfounded while she explained next steps, how to take care of myself, talked about a due date. It was odd, but I felt nothing. Not excited, not upset, just like….nothing. Numb.

When I left, I called the only person who I felt could relate. Carly.

“Hi, boo!” she answered the phone.

“I just left the doctor. I’m pregnant, I guess,” I said back.

“You’re what? Pregnant?” she squealed.

“Allegedly.” I hopped in a cab.

“That’s amazing – I’m so excited! Does Brady know? How far along are you? When did you find out?”

“Literally just now. Carly, I don’t want a baby and I don’t know what to do.”

I could hear Baby Sloane babbling in the background. “I felt the same way, but it’s really such a blessing. I can’t imagine life without Sloane. Brady is going to be ecstatic. How are you going to tell him?”

Brady was not going to be happy. “I don’t know. I’m still not convinced it’s true. How did you tell Chris?”

“I made him a card. He was so happy he cried.”

I couldn’t imagine Brady being so happy he cried. I imagined he’d have the same non-reaction as me.

“Do you hope it’s a boy or a girl?” Carly continued.

“I have to go,” I said and hung up.

When I got home, I sent Brady a text that said, “You need to come home as soon as you can.”

He read my message and then took fifteen minutes to say, “Probably won’t be home until late. Eat without me.”

“This is serious, Brady.”

When Brady didn’t immediately respond, I decided to go to work. I had a ton to still catch up on and I definitely needed a distraction. I stopped by on my way in to say hello to Mike, who told me that he wanted to meet in an hour.

“Hiiiii, how was it?” Kristina said, referring to my vacation when she stopped by my office a little bit later.

“It was absolutely amazing. I didn’t want to come home,” I said back.

“We should catch up over happy hour later. I feel like I have so much to tell you,” she said.

“Mmm, maybe,” I said, knowing I couldn’t. “I’ll let you know.”

And since I knew I wouldn’t be attending a happy hour I tried to get as much information from her as I could over chat.

Mike was waiting in his office for me. From Kristina, I found out that things had been somewhat chaotic while I was away so I was ready for Mike’s wrath. It didn’t help that I was five minutes late to our meeting due to being sick.

“Reese, hi. I hope you enjoyed your time off,” he greeted me, not bothering to look up from his iPad.

“Mmhm.”

“I need you to wrap up the high rise project. It’s taking too long, we all know that and we will be in breach of contract if it continues going on,” he continued.

I nodded.

“I will be out of office next Wednesday through Friday so I’ll need you to step in during my absence. There are some things you’ll need to be up to speed on so expect an influx of forwarded emails from me.” Mike still hadn’t looked up at me. “Set up some time to work with Kristina this week. I’m losing my patience with her.”

“Okay.”

He finally looked up. “Do you have anything for me?”

And to my absolute horror, that is when I decided that it was all too much and I burst into tears. Actual tears in Mike’s office. I heard him sigh loudly.

“I’m sorry,” I blubbered.

He held up a hand. “I know it’s a lot. Take the rest of the day off and please don’t come back until you’re ready to work.”

I nodded and hustled out of there. The last thing I needed was Mike witnessing me having a breakdown. I packed my shit and hightailed it out of there.

On my way home I picked up a chicken burrito from Chipotle and then because I didn’t think that was enough, I also grabbed several chocolate sprinkled donuts. Obviously all of it disagreed with my stomach and I spent an hour being sick in the bathroom. I bathed and got in bed and waited for Brady to come home.

Kendra called. Obviously Carly had told her what was going on.

“Is it true?” she said into the phone excitedly. It sounded like she getting into a car or something.

“Ugh, Kendra,” I moaned. “I don’t know what to do.”

“This is so exciting, Reese. Are you excited? I knew you were going to get pregnant! How do you feel?” she continued.

“Congratulations Reese!” I heard John call from the background.

“You told John? My mom doesn’t even know yet!”

“He overheard. How do you feel, Reese? Are you okay?”

“No! This is literally the worst time for this to happen. I want a baby, just not now. I’m not prepared at all,” I whined.

“No one’s ever quite prepared for a baby. It’s scary now, but you’ll be surprised how quickly your maternal instincts kick in. This is great for you two, I think. It’ll force you to grow up and y’all can form a real bond outside of getting drunk every weekend.”

Excuse me? Kendra had some fucking nerve. She always acts like she and John are the most perfect adults and I really did not need that. Plus, I needed to tell Brady before he heard from someone else since Carly was telling everyone and everyone’s husbands were “overhearing.”

Brady walked through the door at 8:00pm. I was laying on the couch with a can of ginger ale and a bag of Doritos. He glanced at me quickly before making a beeline for the bedroom. “Are you feeling better?”

I followed him. “No. In fact, I got an update on my condition.”

Brady glanced over his shoulder at me. “Yeah, and?”

I was oddly excited to drop this bomb on him – especially after how cold and annoyed he was acting with me. “I’m pregnant.”

I could see him clench, but he continued getting undressed and didn’t bother facing me for a second.

“You are? Seriously?” Brady turned back to me, with his shirt open.

“Seriously. Two doctors confirmed,” I said, matter-of-factly.

“I thought you were on birth control.”

“I was. I am. It failed, obviously. Which can happen.”

“It only fails when you don’t take it.” Redness was creeping up Brady’s neck.

“Actually no, the doctor today explained to me how it works and it actually happens more often than you think. If you don’t take it take it at the exact same time everyday it can screw with your hormones,” I explained, calmly.

“Don’t you think it would have been important to understand all of this a long time ago? You should know how birth control works by now.”

“Don’t you think you should have known before blowing your load inside me?” I exclaimed. “This isn’t just my fault!”

Brady gave me a weird look, tilting his head. “I just don’t believe you. I don’t think you’re really pregnant.” He walked in the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Okay. If that’s how he wanted to be, that was fine. I put 27 blankets on the couch to make a comfortable sleeping area and turned on Drag Race reruns. This was after I’d slipped the doctor’s note under the bathroom door that said, “Patient is pregnant.”

I expected Brady to come out and talk to me like an adult – we had so much to discuss. I was already 6 fucking weeks in, after all! But he shut the door to the bedroom and went to sleep with Tucker. And I was up all night texting everyone and eating whatever I could find.

Brady and I are going to Paris later this month and I am thrilled. I have spent the few months leading up to it stocking up on berets and scarves and pinning restaurants I want to go to and places I want to see. Brendan sent me a list of his recommendations, but gave a disclaimer. “I haven’t been since 2009 so these places might not be cool anymore.”

If anyone has any recommendations at all, please share.

The other day, Mike called me into his office. He was sitting behind his desk shuffling papers.

“What do you think of Kristina?” he said as a greeting.

“Kristina?” I repeated. “I think she’s great. Super outgoing and business savvy. I really like her.”

“I think she’s an airhead,” he said, continuing to shuffle his papers.

“Mike!” I exclaimed.

He finally looked up at me. “She seems spacey and she doesn’t know any of her numbers. I know she’s your friend, but… you’re going to have to work with her if you want to keep her around.”

Ouch. I didn’t realize Mike was so unimpressed with Kristina, but I told him I’d work with her because I can’t have my girl getting fired.

I called a one-on-one meeting with Kristina the following morning and the only thing she wanted to talk about the whole time was Brendan.

“Can you believe he has been married for three years?” she asked.

“How do you know that?” I needed to know.

“Instagram,” she replied proudly. “His wife wore custom Oscar de la Renta. I wonder how much that wedding cost.”

I hadn’t scrolled that far back on his Instagram and I instructed Kristina show me. She pulled up the wife’s Instagram and showed me a photo of the happy couple sitting in front of a little waterfall or something in their designer duds. Brendan looked like a little boy in his white tux, black pants and bow tie. Neither of them was smiling though – they both wore supermodel pouts.

“What’s the deal with them? Brendan hangs out with us all the time and never brings her,” Kristina said.

“I don’t know. Probably because it’s always work things. I’m sure she has her own friends and stuff.” I found myself feeling strangely protective of him and like, annoyed that Kristina was so concerned with/invested in his life.

“She’s in Mexico right now without him.”

“Kristina. Let’s get back to work.”

I went over some things with her and helped her create an Excel spreadsheet to organize all of her numbers.

“What’s all this for? Do I have a quiz or something coming up?” Kristina smirked.

“No, but I want you to have all of these numbers on hand in case Mike asks you. Just trying to set you up for success.”

Do you see what a great manager, mentor and friend I am?

When I got home, I fed Tucker and walked him, threw a Pinterest casserole in the oven and then poured a glass of Cab. I was texting with Carly who might have a job lined up. She wants to plan a girls trip to Palm Springs or something.

“I need a vacation if I’m going to start work again,” she said.

Brady walked through the front door at 8:30pm.

“Hey hey,” he greeted Tucker and me.

“Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes. Do you want a glass of wine?” I said back.

“Please. I’m just going to get changed.” Brady took off his jacket and I saw that he was wearing normal nice slacks with a light colored button down, unbuttoned at the top and no tie.

“What are you wearing?” I demanded.

“What?”

“Why are you like half dressed?” Brady is normally dressed impeccably complete with a tie so I imagined that he’d taken it off at some point during the day.

“Half dressed? This is what I wore to work…” he explained.

“What?” I hadn’t seen Brady before he left for work since he leaves at the literal asscrack of dawn.

“No one really dresses up that much. I guess I wanted to conform.”

I eyed his revealing neckline again, actually offended. He looked so…exposed. I’m so used to seeing Brady so buttoned up that it was bizarre that he was so casual. Seeing the little sliver of his Adam’s apple and collarbone, I thought of all his little tattoos and how his coworkers probably have no idea he even has them. He keeps his professional life and personal life super separate which I love. I didn’t want his coworkers to even think he was cool outside of work – they aren’t worthy. I wanted that version to myself.

“I don’t like that,” I concluded.

He laughed and said okay.

And since then he has gone back to wearing ties to work. Is it bad if I don’t fully believe him? Like I still imagine he fucked some nurse in the janitor’s closet and never put his tie back on after. Or he went out after work and took his tie off to look less stuffy and had secret drinks with someone else.

A few nights later, Sydney stopped by to pick something up. Brady informed me five minutes prior to her arrival.

“Ew. What does she possibly need to pick up?” I asked.

He gave me a disapproving look and shook his head.

“Hi, you guys!” Sydney said when she walked in, waving.

Brady had a folder waiting for her and hugged it against her body gratefully. “What are you guys up to tonight?”

“Literally nothing,” I said. She was wearing a leather jacket with a big, plaid scarf and you guessed it: workout pants.

“I’ve been wanting to try that French restaurant on the corner. Have you been?”

“Ah, uh….no, we haven’t,” Brady said back.

Sydney’s beady eyes lit up. “We should go!”

So that’s how we got roped into having dinner with Sydney. She was so excited to be hanging out with us which made me feel slightly bad for being annoyed that she was there. I guess since she had shlepped all the way from Brooklyn, she needed to make the most of it.

Brady and Sydney talked about politics all night. Presidential candidates, various policies, healthcare. It was so boring. I prefer to keep my head in the sand and let adults make those decisions. I’m sure Brady hates that he can’t talk about that stuff with me.

And then Sydney had to come back to the apartment with us after dinner because she’d left the folder she came for in the first place. I was feeling kind so I offered her a glass of wine. But then she overstayed her welcome and didn’t leave until 11:30pm. You give them an inch and they take a mile.