She snorts.
“Everyone’s younger than you now, Rick. That’s no surprise.”
I shake my head. Clearly, Angela has no idea.
“So what happened?” my ex probes. “What’s going on?
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I honestly don’t know. We had been seeing each other for a few months, and it just ended. I’ve already talked to Chris about all this, and honestly, it still doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
“Did she end it?”
I nod.
“Without warning?”
I nod again.
At that moment, our food arrives. I inhale the aroma of sizzling steak and onions and peppers. Angie eyes her petite taco salad with distaste.
“I ordered this without cilantro,” she informs the waiter.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. Would you like us to remake it?”
“No,” she sighs. “I’ll just eat it.”
Typical. I can’t stand being here and wonder again why I’m even present. I’m beginning to regret that I didn’t walk out as soon as Bailey announced she wasn’t coming.
Thankfully, our riveting conversation is interrupted by the waiter coming to refill our drinks. Angie pushes some things around with her fork, while I dig into my fajitas without reservation. Mexican cuisine has always been my favorite.
A memory surfaces, without warning: Kara playing mariachi music on her phone as we made a taco feast together in my kitchen. She dabbed sour cream onto my nose, and I laughed, scooping her into my arms. “Now you have to lick it off,” I informed her, as she scrunched up her own nose and giggled.
Shit. I shake my head, hoping to clear my mind. Wistful reminiscing isn’t going to get me anywhere, especially not when I’m dining with my ex-wife.
“What excuse did this new girl give?” Angie asks.
I sigh. She clearly won’t be deterred. “She didn’t really say. Something about ‘different paths,’ or some bullshit.”
“That means she met someone else,” Angie says, nodding.
I can’t help it: I glare at her. It feels like a rock has dropped into the pit of my stomach, and suddenly, I fucking hate her. “I highly doubt it,” I say, the words dripping like icicles.
Angie shrugs.
“Why not? There are plenty of other people at the hospital, and in the world, right? You’re not the only man alive.”
This woman has a way of eviscerating my guts, even now.
“Yes, but…” I shake my head. “I know this won’t sound very convincing, but if it were someone else, she would have told me. I know she would have, and I could have handled that. It would have been devastating, but it happens. But this… it almost seemed like something happened out of the blue.”
Angie takes a forkful of her salad, looking thoughtful. Then, suddenly, she meets my gaze questioningly. I raise a brow in response.
“Did you use condoms?” she asks matter-of-factly.
I nearly choke on my mouthful of fajitas. “Not sure that’s something I want to discuss with you,” I say as curtly as possible.
Angie shrugs.
“I’m wondering. I had a friend who got pregnant and broke it off because she was worried the guy didn’t want kids, or wouldn’t handle it well. It’s a fairly common concern.”
I shake my head again. “That definitely isn’t the case.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, though, the rock settles back into my stomach. Suddenly, my food doesn’t seem very appetizing, and I push the plate away. Kara and I used condoms, but nothing’s ever perfect. Especially not when it comes to human behavior. There were a few times when the situation was so fucking hot that we made love without protection, but it was only a few times, and she assured me that she wasn’t at peak fertility during those days. Suddenly, my stomach drops again.
Could Kara be pregnant?
A headache begins to pulse at my temples. There’s no way. She would have told me. She trusted me. She knows that I’m a good dad, and take my responsibilities seriously. Hell, my daughter is her best friend. What would have made her so hesitant to tell me?
At that moment, my phone begins to buzz in my pocket. I withdraw it without thinking and glance at the caller ID.
Kara.
“Uh,” I say to Angie, “one sec. I need to take this.”
I stumble, half-dazed, to the restaurant’s door and exit into the parking lot. When I answer the phone, all I can say is, “Kara?”
“Rick.”
At the sound of her voice, my knees nearly buckle. I’ve missed hearing my name on her lips. There are so many different questions I want to ask her, and so many different things I want to say. Now that I have her on the phone though, my mind has gone blank. Finally, I settle on a few words.
“Are you okay?” I ask in a rush. “Do you need anything?”
“I’m okay,” she says. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, and like she’s choosing her words very carefully. “I was wondering if I could talk to you tomorrow. In person.”