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“Now why would we do that?” I ask while stepping closer and looking at her with a confused expression.
She huffs out an annoyed sound. “Because Rage is mine, and I’m having his baby. So obviously you don’t matter anymore.”
I can’t help the smirk that comes to my lips. Her statement has obviously pissed off a lot of the club.
I look over at Zane and see that he has his fist clenched. He seems like he wants to say something. I shake my head, and he gives me a single nod.
It makes me feel better that he’s trusting me to handle this. When I look at my mom, she gives me a thumbs up and a smile.
“Just because you are having his baby doesn’t mean I have to leave. You know I am the Prez’s daughter,” I state.
Lydia rolls her eyes. “That’s what your mom says, but we don’t know that for sure. You could be anyone,” she says dismissively.
My mom is sitting on a stool behind her so I can see the anger take over her.
“Right. Because anyone could lie about a child, right?” I say with a tilt to my head.
“Exactly,” she agrees.
“So, tell me, how far along are you?” I ask.
“Probably eight weeks,” she says with a shrug.
“You don’t know?” I ask.
“Well, I haven’t seen the doctor yet. I only just found out,” she says slowly like I’m stupid.
“That’s great. How’s the morning sickness going?” I ask.
“Why do you care?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.
I shrug. “I’m a nurse; I can’t help but be curious. After all, you are carrying a club baby, so it’s only fair that we make sure everything runs smoothly.”
“Right, well I haven’t really had any. That’s why I only just found out,” she says while rubbing her stomach with a pout.
“What about heightened sense of smell? How’s that been?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Fine. When you come to the club, all you can smell is cigarette smoke and alcohol,” she says waving her hand around.
“So, you can’t smell yourself,” I wince with a sympathetic look at her.
“Are you saying I smell?” she screeches.
“You kind of always do. I don’t know how Rage stayed around you for so long,” I say with a disgusted look on my face.
I hear muffled laughter. I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling.
“I do not stink!” she says, and stomps her foot like she’s a toddler.
“What about your last period?” I ask, ignoring her outburst.
“A while ago,” she says glaring at me. “I don’t keep track.”
“She had it two weeks ago,” Zane says, speaking up.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Is that right?”
“No, I didn’t. You aren’t remembering right, baby,” she says, looking at Zane.
