Juggling my bag, my coffee, and my keys, I try to get the door to the Mountain Rose open. It’s a lot harder than it was three months ago when my tummy was flat-ish, I wasn’t having weird food cravings, and I didn’t spend half of my mornings chucking into the toilet.

That’s okay, I’m halfway through my pregnancy, and despite the difficulties, every day is a new adventure and I’m looking forward more and more to what’s to come. Still . . . “Goddamn lock,” I mutter, hissing.

Finally, it clicks, and I push the door open, setting everything on the counter and hustling back to flip the lights on and the sign to Open. Hustling is getting to be a little bit relative since I’ve already started to get a little waddle to my gait even though I’m barely showing. What with winter still in full effect, when I wear loose, warm clothes, almost nobody notices unless I tell them.

Brad says my little baby bump looks like maybe I just had a big lunch, just a little food baby. But at five months along, this is definitely not just some burritos, although I could go for some breakfast burritos right about now. Mmm . . . warm eggs with some spicy sausage, cheese, and maybe some rice in there . . . yeah, baby, that’s what I want.

I’ve been fortunate that while I’ve had some morning sickness, I’ve been able to eat just fine. Actually, I think Brad’s a little jealous. Every time I stop by the salon, he’s drinking something that looks like it was mixed up for the Toxic Crusader while I’m rocking something covered in cheese.

I grab my morning coffee from the K-Cup machine, a birthday gift from Ana last year that I’ve come to love. I inhale deeply, breathing in its steamy goodness as I boot up the computer and check emails. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I remind myself. “These eight ounces of liquid sanity are a precious commodity.”

Everything electronic looks good today, just some spam, a few bills that I click Pay on immediately before I forget, and then my weekly pregnancy newsletter. These are my favorites, reading about how big my little Jelly Bean is, what’s developing, and what I’m likely to be experiencing.

That one is tough because while some women are already feeling movement, I’m one of the few who haven’t yet. It worries me, even as I tell myself that everything is fine.

The range is 16–25 weeks, and I’m smack in the middle at 20 but just ridiculously impatient for what I think will be a monumental moment in my pregnancy.

I’ve tried a few of the ‘recommendations’ to trigger squirming like drinking orange juice, and last weekend, Brad gently poked my belly to see if that’d get some movement going. But no luck so far. He’s declared me defective, though he was only kidding. I still threatened to not let him be an auntie, so he’s piped down after that. But I’m still trying to feel something, anything.

Sighing, I close down my emails and get the store ready for customers. About five minutes later, the door opens and my new assistant walks in. “Devon, so great to see you this morning.”

Knowing that I was going to need some help as the pregnancy progressed and for some maternity leave, I hired help. Today’s her first day, and I’m excited that the Mountain Rose and I have reached the level where I can hire some help, and Devon seems like a really sweet girl, ready to learn and happy to help.

“Thanks, Rose! Great to see you too. Where do you want me and what can I do?”

Good start, girl. Very good start. “Let’s unload the new order that arrived yesterday afternoon, get it all hung and set out. I’ll show you the system and how I like to tag things. Then I’ll go over the register with you.”

Without another word, she’s off and running, going into the back of the store and grabbing the box and moving it closer to the rack. We get to work, and within twenty minutes, I’m already in love with this girl. It would’ve been impossible for me to move that box and I would’ve spent too much time and energy walking the clothes back and forth from the box to the rack. But Devon’s got wiry strength and energy for days, and we get the racking going in half the time it would normally take.

We move over to the register, and I quickly go through ringing up a sale, making change, and doing a return or exchange as we see customers all morning. It’s not too busy, but enough that Devon is able to train.

“You’re a fast learner,” I tell her during a small lull in foot traffic. “You’re going to do fine.”

Devon smiles and gives me a thumbs up. “Thanks, Rose. It’s not too different from the other registers I’ve worked so it’s an easy pickup. And this is a lot more glamorous than doing shifts down at the supermarket.”

“Glamorous?” I laugh. “Oh, hell, Brad’s gonna love you! He’s a friend from down the street, part-owner of the salon. He stops in from time to time. You don’t mind being called bitch, I hope? It’s said in love, I promise.”

Suddenly, my tummy lets out a loud rumble and we both freeze for a second before bursting into laughter. “Well, apparently, that’s my alarm clock for lunch. Did you bring something?”

Devon shakes her head. “No, I figured I could grab something from the diner if we weren’t too busy, or later if we were. I mean, I could afford to skip a meal or two.”

I don’t know if it’s the soon-to-be mother in me or just hearing that sort of bullshit too often, but I grab her hand. “No. Get rid of that thinking right now. You’re gorgeous, Devon . . . and the diner sounds great. So here’s the deal. Your boss is buying and you’re it picking up. Have any idea what you want?”

She’s already nodding, grabbing a notepad off the desk to write down the order, when I change my mind. “Actually, this would be a great test. I’ll go grab our lunch—the walk will do me good—and you stay here. There shouldn’t be too many customers coming in right now, but if they do, you know how to ring them up. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”

I rip the top sheet off the notepad and head out with a wave. Outside, I check what she wrote down. A garden salad? Hell no, this girl’s getting at least a turkey sandwich to go with it. Stepping into the sunshine, I tilt my chin up and close my eyes, appreciating the bracing chill that rolls through my body after being in the heat all morning. My cardigan is just right for the chilled air considering my Jelly Bean has my body temperature rolling a little warmer than usual with the bonus insulation and hormones.

As I walk, I’m mentally debating if it’s a cheeseburger day or a club sandwich day, finally negotiating myself into a compromise of a burger with extra lettuce and tomato. That’s basically a salad, right?

Vaguely, behind me, I hear someone calling out my name. Thinking for a moment that maybe Devon had a question after all, I look back and see the last person I expected to ever see again. Nicolas, my baby daddy, is jogging toward me, a wide smile on his face as he waves.

I turn and he screeches to a halt, his eyes tracking from my face to my obviously rounded belly, then locking onto my eyes.

I see the confusion, the questions written all over his face.