Free A Second Chance at Forever by JM Stewart Page A

through the house. She stopped in the kitchen to grab the potato salad her mother had made that morning along with two serving spoons and carried it all out to the backyard.
    Being Wednesday, their family had all gathered for their weekly dinner at her mother’s house. Since she and Brock both worked the entire weekend, what began as a Sunday night tradition had morphed into a mid-week.
    Tonight they’d decided on a cookout. Music played from a small boom box seated on an overturned milk crate in the corner. All three of Brock’s kids—two boys and a girl—wielded squirt guns and ran circles around each other, screaming and giggling as they attempted to soak each other. His wife Melanie, six months pregnant, sat at the patio table, one hand on her belly, calling out over the din, “Braden, don’t hit your sister!”
    Angela’s mother sat quietly in the corner, watching the children play.
    “You should get that checked out, sis,” her brother called as she stepped out the sliding glass doors onto the cement patio that lined the backyard.
    Angela followed the sound of his voice to where he stood manning the grill on the opposite side of the patio. His blond head was bent over his task as he flipped the burgers and hotdogs lining the hot grates in front of him.
    “Get what checked out?” she asked, wishing she could pinch her nose closed as she moved toward the table.
    It was warmer than usual for mid May in Vegas. The heat had been high that day, in the upper nineties, the air bone dry. Summer had set in early this year. Gentle breezes blew through the trees now, cooling her skin, but also carrying the smoke from the grill right at her, along with the acrid scent of cooking meat. It all served to turn her stomach. Again.
    Brock peeked up at her, one eye still on his task. “That’s the third time in an hour you’ve thrown up, Ang.”
    “Oh. I’m fine.” She set the potato salad down onto the table, beside the macaroni salad, chips and condiments already there. “It’s the smell of the meat. It’s turning my stomach.”
    His head came up, brows drawn together. “Since when does cooking hamburgers turn your stomach? They’re your favorite.”
    The last two days every tiny smell seemed to make her throw up. Yesterday morning it had been the scrambled eggs her mother had made for breakfast.
    “Must be a bug going around.” She shrugged as she set the serving spoons into the salads, then moved to the chair beside her mother.
    “You don’t look sick, Ang.” Brock shook his head as he bent to his task again. “Every time smells start turning Mel’s stomach, she usually tells me she’s pregnant.”
    Angela froze, plopping unceremoniously down into her seat. Her mind took what her brother suggested, fast forwarded, and began to frantically do the math in her head. Her period was two weeks late. How was that even possible? They’d used condoms for crying out loud!
    The shower she and Alex had shared that morning before she left him flashed through her thoughts.
    Oh God I can’t be.
    “Excuse me.”
    Hands braced on the arms of the chair, she pushed out of her seat and ran into the house. She dove into her purse on the kitchen counter for her cell phone. Clutching it to her chest, she raced up the stairs two at a time. Upon entering her bedroom, she slammed the door shut and paced the length of her bed. Her fingers shook so much it took her four tries to remember to hit speed dial 2 for Stacy’s number.
    Stacy picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?”
    “I need you to do something for me. Can you come over? Bring Lucas with you.…”
    Twenty minutes later, Angela stood beside Stacy in the upstairs bathroom, both of them staring down at the plastic stick on the counter. Every limb shook as she watched the liquid pass across the small view screen from left to right. Sixty seconds. Sixty very long seconds that could change her life forever.
    When the liquid finally reached its destination, a symbol