“Let me warn you.” She shifts Missy to her other arm and points a finger at me. “Do not mistake my kindness for weakness. If you hurt Sam or hurt this family, I personally will cut...”

Missy lets out a big baby burp and spits up all over Trish’s blouse.

“Oh no,” I say, horrified by the volume of puke and the smell.

Is this what babies do?

“Missy!” Trish cries in frustration. “This is a brand new shirt.”

Trish looks over at me and after a split second’s hesitation holds out Missy for me to take.

“Here, can you hold her a second so I can wipe this off?”

I back up and slowly shake my head.

The sour smell of the spit-up hits me and I run for the toilet where I throw up my lunch.

Trish looks over at me in disgust.

“For heaven’s sake!” she says. “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s only baby spit-up, not vomit.”

Oh God! Why did she have to say that word?

I bend over and throw up again.

She watches me silently, then reaches for a washcloth from the shelf above the sink, runs it under cold water, and hands it to me.

“Let me guess. You’re pregnant.”

She makes the word ‘pregnant” sound like the worst thing in the world.

I wipe my mouth with the cold cloth before answering.

“Yes, I’m pregnant. What possibly gave it away?”

She wets another cloth and tries to wipe off her shirt while cradling Missy in her arms.

“Does Sam know?” she asks.

“Of course he knows.”

“And?”

“And he’s thrilled.”

Trish sighs. “Of course he would be. He’s always wanted a busload of kids. And you?”

“You’re asking me this now while my head is in the toilet? I’m thrilled, too. Can’t you tell by my cheerful enthusiasm?”

I scoot back on the cold tile floor until my back is against the wall and press the cloth to my face. Damn, I feel terrible. My morning sickness is turning into all day sickness that never eases up.

Trish is standing there silently watching me. Why is she still here? She’s obviously waiting for something.

“I love Sam and that’s all I can say, Trish. I’m in this for the long haul and I’m not going away. You and everyone else out there are just going to have to deal. I’m marrying Sam and we’re having this baby. In other words, I’m permanent. If it makes you feel better to throw threats at me, go ahead, but it’s not going to change anything. I don’t scare easily.”

I lean back, close my eyes, and try to will the nausea to go away so I can grab Sam and leave.