MESSED UP - completed!

14- Isla, The Secret Keeper

14 Isla, the Secret Keeper

Accepting and welcoming my pregnancy has been complicated, but I'm doing my best while trying to keep it a secret because—Well, the father of my child is my new boss.

"It's been weeks," Isla says, playing with the spoon in her ice cream.

I pull the spoon out of my mouth and push it inside my ice cream. "Are you counting the weeks of my pregnancy?"

She sighs. "It's been weeks since we've started filming and publishing the YouTubers videos, and the views are low."

"Good to see you worry about me."

She rolls her eyes. "We get it! You're pregnant!"

"You're pregnant?" Sara asks, standing in the door's crack.

My eyes round, and Isla freezes with the ice cream in her hands.

"Uh—" I blink.

"Congrats, I guess?"

"Oh no. I'm not—"

"Who is the father?"

And just like that, my day, and the entire year, is ruined.

"Oh, my God! Mia, I'm so happy for you!" Says the hundredth human working in Whoosh after they curve their lips and pass me in the hallway. I roll my eyes and curse Isla under my breath. Anytime someone walks toward me with a big smile on their lips, I run away, knowing they are approaching, only to congratulate me. My eyes search for Isla, who vanished after revealing my secret. The only place where I wanted to hide my pregnancy is Whoosh Co.

"Mia."

"No!" I say out loud after hearing Smith's voice.

He has raised an eyebrow. "What, no?"

I put my hand on my forehead. "Nothing."

"We've got things to do."

"Man, you always creep me out."

He pauses for a few seconds. "There's something off about you. I don't know what that is." I breathe deeply, relieved that he hasn't heard about my pregnancy yet. "But I'm gonna find that out," he says, and it feels like a threat. He opens his mouth a few times to say something but doesn't know what to say. I watch him walk away. He shouldn't find out about my pregnancy. Never.

Something smells heavenly good. Strangely good because we never have great food at Whoosh. I follow the scent in the hallways and find myself in a new room. They have renovated it into a modern kitchen.

The incredible smell is coming from a plate of pasta on a table. I approach it and watch the steam leaving its surface. The sliced chicken in the white sauce of the pasta is talking to my soul. Resisting it is impossible, so I grab a fork and twirl it in the pasta.

Delicious. Dipping the chicken in the cream in the sauce is a sin. Wow! The last time I enjoyed a meal was the Chinese I had with Zoey.

"Perfect," I say, enjoying the last bite.

"Isn't it?" says a stranger. He's standing before me.

I wipe my mouth with my hand and barely swallow the food already in my mouth. The stranger folds his arms.

"W—who are you?" I ask, chewing the last of the chicken in my mouth.

"I cooked the perfect pasta," he says.

I cough a few times, choking on the last bite. He approaches me and pats me on the back. "Easy now."

"I-I'm so sorry. I didn't know."