“I will.” I smile at him, wondering if I’m smiling at the father of my future child. “Bye.”
***
I stop ata nearby drugstore and pick up a pregnancy test, stashing it in my bag before I climb into the hired car I use whenever I have to go somewhere and head for the restaurant where I’m meeting Tinsley at. My thoughts are preoccupied with visions of sweet cherub babies and me getting fat. Perry cuddling our newborn child with blonde hair and big blue eyes. I don’t know why, but I can only envision him with a baby girl. A sweet little cooing infant who stares at her daddy as if he’s the best thing she’s ever seen.
I feel you girl, I mentally say to my imaginary baby. I feel the same way about him.
By the time I’m entering the busy restaurant, I’m a bundle of excited nerves, grateful when Tinsley spots me first and practically runs toward me, wrapping me up in a big hug and squeezing me close.
“You look so good,” she tells me as she withdraws, grabbing hold of my hands and shaking them lightly. “I swear, you’re glowing!”
That only confirms my earlier suspicions of being pregnant. Pregnant womenglow.
Of course, so do women who just had passionate sex with their husband and made him late to work, so there is that to consider.
We’re seated immediately and we both order strawberry lemonades as we check over the menu, making small talk. I’m not that hungry and decide to have a fall-themed salad with grilled chicken, dried cranberries and a balsamic dressing while Tinsley orders a cheeseburger with fries.
“You made me feel a little guilty with your choice, but screw it,” she says after the server takes our order and menus. “I’m in the mood for something bad for me.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I reassure her, momentarily regretting my choices.
A cheeseburger and fries sounds delicious. And if I’m pregnant, what does it matter if I eat something like that every once in a while?
Really, why does it matter at all? We should all be able to indulge here and there, whenever we want.
Tinsley smiles, leaning across the table. “How’s married life with my brother, hmm?”
This is where it gets tricky. I don’t want to share too intimate details with her. I view her as a friend, but come on. Perry is her brother. If I say something bad—not that I have anything bad to say at the moment—she might report back to him. And if I say something too, ahem, raunchy, she won’t want to hear it.
Because he is her brother. The last thing I want to know are sexual details involving any of my brothers.
Gross.
“It’s good,” I say, remaining neutral. “We’re getting along well.”
Understatement of the year.
“I’m so glad,” she says, looking pleased, even by my simple response. “Perry is a great guy. You two seem happy together.”
We do? I was quiet at Thanksgiving. Even a little distant. Not that I meant to be. I was still dealing with my recent trauma, and not feeling that great either. “We’ve gotten used to each other pretty quickly.”
That’s not a lie. As time goes on, we do get along better and better, and I’m used to having him in my life. Perry is fun. Sweet. Easy to talk to. Sexy. Really good at the sex thing.
Really good.
Actually, I can’t imagine him not being a part of my life.
And I don’t want to either.
I watch as Tinsley checks her phone, her expression changing as she reads whatever text message or notification she was just sent. She lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes full of apology. “I think a guest is going to drop in on our lunch.”
I frown, my mind awhirl with the guest possibilities. “Who?”
“My mother.”
Chapter Eighteen
Charlotte