Karma Kameleon. Stephanie Haefner

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      “I ordered my dress today,” I squealed to Kevin later that night. Rich was in the shower and Marcus played with Preston. I pulled a sheet of paper from my purse, an internet picture I’d printed.

      He gasped. “A. Maze. Ing.”

      “I know!”

      “Girl, you are so gonna be the prettier bride. How can I possibly compete with that?”

      “Oh stop. I’m sure we’ll find you something just as fabulous.”

      Rich came into the kitchen and I scrambled to hide the picture. He kissed me on the cheek. “What’s going on?”

      “Oh, nothing,” Kevin said. “Girl stuff.”

      * * * *

      Summer had just begun and already we were hit with a sweltering heat wave. We were fine in the apartment–central air cooling every square inch. But outside, walking around naked would have done nothing to alleviate the intense heat.

      Preston desperately needed summer clothes, especially swim trunks and one of those SPF sun shirts. We’d definitely be working in some days at the pool and the beach. I packed his diaper bag and stroller and set off for the baby store.

      When I’d been pregnant with Preston, I never cared to shop for baby stuff. But once he was here, I sometimes couldn’t control myself. Good thing the store delivered purchases for a small fee.

      We walked into the store, a children’s show come to life, with bright colors, cheerful faces, and an annoyingly chipper rendition of The Wheels on the Bus blaring from above. There were toys and stuffed animals as far as the eye could see, some human-sized, and right away Preston stretched his hands toward a bright green stuffed dinosaur on a display near the door. I handed it to him, of course, knowing full well there was no way I’d get it out of his grasp once I did. No biggie. Every boy needs a stuffed dinosaur.

      I started in the clothing section, figuring I’d get that taken care of first. Someone once told me girls were much more fun to dress, but boy’s stuff was pretty darn cute, too. I grabbed four different pairs of preppy plaid shorts and some khaki cargos. After grabbing the essential polo shirts and some screen printed tees, I spied some adorable rocker-type shirts–had to have those, too. Preston would be oh so adorable in the black one with silver lettering: I’m with the Band.

      I passed a rack of character tees and tried to zoom by as fast as possible. But Preston had already spotted his favorite–Elmo. I sighed and grabbed one of the shirts and held it up. My baby abandoned his green dinosaur and reached for the white t-shirt with Elmo’s face covering the entire thing.

      “Do we have to get this?” I asked, not expecting an answer, of course.

      I searched the rack and found a red polo with a small embroidered Elmo on the left hand-side, a Sesame Street version of a Lacoste shirt.

      “How about this instead?”

      Preston seemed somewhat pleased, especially when I shoved the dinosaur back into his hands, along with a stuffed Elmo.

      I held up the shirt one more time, shook my head, and added it to my growing pile of purchases.

      “I bet you never thought you’d be buying an Elmo shirt.” The voice behind me sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it. When I swung around, there stood Zak–the ex who’d cheated on me with one of my best friends.

      It all came swirling back–the day my entire world had fallen apart. I’d walked in on Zak and Brenda screwing on my bed. The morning had already been bad, but after that, it had spiraled into the fiery depths of hell.

      “Um, hi.”

      “How are you?”

      “Good. You?”

      “Real good, actually.” Zak smiled, a cheesy grin. It was then I noticed the blonde next to him–a very pregnant blonde. “Lexi, this is Megan…my wife.”

      I choked on my saliva. “Excuse me?”

      “Hello.” She smiled and held out her hand.

      I involuntarily pumped it a few times.

      Zak spoke again. “Yeah, I’m married. Can you believe it?”

      “Uh, no. When did this happen?” I didn’t mean to be so blunt. No, that was a lie. Yes I did.

      “We’ve been married ten months. We met last August and…” he turned to her. “It was love at first sight.” Cue the harps and angels. “We were married soon as we could arrange it, only a couple weeks later.”

      “And, you’re, um…”

      “Yep. We’re having a baby. It all happened so fast. We celebrated our two-month anniversary and our positive pregnancy test on the same day.”

      Zak squatted down to Preston’s stroller and held out his hand. Preston giggled and gave him five. “Hi, little guy. Whatcha got there?” He handed over the Elmo. Zak took it and made it dance across the stroller tray. After giving it back, he stood.

      “He looks just like you, Lexi.”

      I could only nod. This was too weird. Zak, married? Zak, talking to a baby and playing with him? Zak, having a baby of his own? Wait a minute. That couldn’t be possible. He’d had a vasectomy–years ago. Weren’t those permanent?

      “I have to go,” I said to the happy couple.

      “Okay. Nice seeing you.”

      I turned the stroller and bee-lined to the register. I would have rather dashed out the door, but we needed those clothes. The sales clerk rang them up and began folding each item perfectly.

      “You don’t have to do that. Just throw them in,” I said, forcing a smile.

      The cashier’s eyes bugged out. She placed the remaining clothes in the bag, without folding them, and I practically ran from the place.

      Had I awakened in some alternate reality today? This could not be the real world. This pseudo-Zak was nothing like the man I had been with for three years. Even his mid-section bulged a bit. What kind of weird place was this that Zak had abandoned his rock hard abs? He’d cared about those more than anything in his life, even sex. So many nights I’d lain in bed, naked, starting without him so he could pump out a hundred crunches.

      God, I needed a drink. Probably not a good idea to take a baby into a bar. I settled for a triple chocolate sundae–extra hot fudge–and some vanilla soft serve with rainbow sprinkles for Preston.

      My boy dug into his ice cream without hesitation while I contemplated what had happened. And my brain forced me to think of something I did not want to think about. What if Zak’s vasectomy had been botched all those years ago? Preston could be his kid, not Marcus’s. Everyone always said he looked like me–nothing like Marcus. Maybe because Zak was his father. We’d never had a DNA test done. And Preston was born a whole month early. I might have gotten pregnant a month before my one-night fling with Marcus.