“No, did you do it?”
Would Olivia be disappointed in her if she had?
“Of course not.”
“But you wanted to.” Purse on the seat beside her, Olivia leaned forward, her hands folded on the table.
She’d just said she had. What more did the woman want?
Orange and black garlands hung between their booth and the ones behind them on each side. Streamed mellow pop music played softly in the background, and the staff was all wearing spider antler headbands. Christine had helped the staff decorate the clinic for Halloween, but she hadn’t even so much as put up a Christmas tree at home since Gram had died.
“So, why didn’t you?”
“You know why! It would have been completely unethical! Unprofessional!”
When Olivia nodded, she calmed. And added, “And because I’m not going to make the mistake of letting a man comfort me into sex twice.”
She knew, when she said the words, what she was doing. Opening the door to the question she’d known Olivia would ask...
“There was a first time?”
And it all came out. The waiter came to take their order. Olivia asked for more time without interruption. Christine was aware, but didn’t get involved. And as soon as the young man was out of earshot, continued with her story. All of it. Every single detail she could remember.
At some point Olivia ordered club sandwiches for both of them. Christine ate every bite. She had a baby to feed.
And when she was done with her story, she felt physically full, and otherwise, no better. If anything, she felt worse. Weak. Like a victim instead of the survivor she was.
She pulled out her wallet to pay and get the hell out of there. She needed rest.
Olivia’s hand covered hers on the little tray holding their bill. “Whoa, wait, what are you doing?”
“I’m paying,” she said firmly. “I asked for this dinner. I spent the whole time whining. I’m paying.”
“We aren’t done yet.”
Christine frowned. Looked across at her friend. “We can be done.”
Shaking her head, Olivia asked, “Why did you tell me all of this?”
Yeah, it had been a mistake. They’d been friends for years and didn’t spill beans that had long since been consumed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not like me. All I can do is play the hormone card and get this baby birthed.” She still had a little over four months to go. Tried to chuckle.
An image of Jamie, his face so close it seemed like she could read words in his eyes, sprang to mind.
And she longed for him. Right then. Right there. Longed to be near him. To hear his voice. To kiss him again and not stop.
She was birthing the baby he’d created with another woman. A baby they had created out of deep and abiding love for each other.
What in the hell was the matter with her?
“No, seriously.” Olivia’s tone was soft, soothing. “Why did you tell me this?”
She didn’t know. Wished she hadn’t. She shook her head. Wanted to go. And to stay.
“It wasn’t right, sweetie, what they did to you back then. A teenager, being left to care for aging grandparents. Not only taking on the day-to-day responsibility, but bearing the weight of it in the bigger picture. It might have been what you thought you wanted, but they were adults—they should have known better...”
“It was my home. Is still my home. I love it there.” And truly couldn’t imagine wanting to live anywhere else.
“So maybe someone else should have borne the responsibility of their health so that you could live there and still be a kid.”