When Girlfriends Step Up Read Online Free PDF Page A

did do one thing that I could respect: She worked her butt off. I think getting the hell out of Dodge was what helped keep her so driven. I say, let her go to New York or some big shot city. I’d be quite content with landing the PM job with the firm that’s been my happy home for the past three-and-a-half years. I had no plans to move away from Seattle, and certainly no plans of seeking employment elsewhere. With a baby on the way such thoughts were absurd.
    Baby. I’m going to have a baby.  
    I’d forgotten for the past few minutes that I was actually going to have a baby.
    “Do you have those mock-ups ready?” Janet asked, breaking my train of thought. I really needed to get into the motion of the workday.
    “Mock-ups? Yeah, they’re done.” At least one thing was going right so far that morning.
    “Can I have them?” she asked bluntly.
    I moved small stacks of papers around my desk, searching for the early sketches she wanted of a project we were working on together. Normally I didn’t team up with someone on a book cover design, but the request to have “two minds on this one!” came from the top. We had to collaborate together, and where the design went from there neither of us knew.  
    I bet Janet wishes she knew. I bet she wishes she was a corporate bigwig. Ah, who am I kidding? She wouldn’t want to stick around to become a bigwig of some tiny firm like this.
    Janet cleared her throat only as an audible sign of annoyance with my disorganized habits.
    “As soon as I find them I’ll give them to you,” I said, hoping my nervousness wasn’t obvious by the timid tone of my voice.
    She rolled her eyes and resumed her work. “Just make sure I have them before lunch. I don’t want to look bad by turning them in late .”
    Late. The one word that was quickly summing up my existence. Two months late. Pregnant. Nearly an hour late to work. Mock-ups late. Fired?
    Suddenly my cell phone rang and I claimed it from my purse as quickly as I could, paranoid I would further tip Janet’s anger scale. I didn’t recognize the phone number, but then it dawned on me that I had left my number with various doctor’s offices that morning.
    I answered the call, trying to keep my volume to a minimum. It was, as assumed, one of the obstetricians calling me back with appointment information.
    “Uh, I don’t know,” I said to the nurse who was asking how far along in my pregnancy I thought I was. The last thing I’d want to have happen was let Janet figure out that I was knocked up. I knew exactly how far along I was, though. I’m unlucky in love, so that one-night stand was without a shadow of a doubt the “lucky” date. Yet saying things like “ten weeks” or “two cycles ago” would be a giant announcement that I was expecting. Especially when eavesdropping Janet already knew I had been calling the doctor that morning.
    I lied, telling the nurse that I wasn’t sure, then she started estimating on her end and I gave her a sharp, “That’s probably it!” when she neared my number. A few more questions about a healthcare provider, whether I had been pregnant before, if I was seeing any “signs of a possible period,” and if I had taken a home pregnancy test (Hah! Try six!), and I started thinking, Is this ever going to end? Janet and the whole freaking office are bound to find out now.
    It was finally settled, and with as much discretion as I could muster. The following Thursday I was to have my first checkup, which included an ultrasound.
    Ultrasound? Like a baby picture? Baby’s first picture?  
    I kept thinking about this as the nurse confirmed my appointment and information. I couldn’t shake the thought from my mind as I began to set about my day’s workload.  
    I’m seriously having a baby. It’s official. A baby.
    As lunchtime neared, and after I found my mock-ups and shared them with Janet, I scribbled Need Girl Night on a bright pink Post-It note, with a little star above the ‘i.’ The