“What’s really wrong?”
She pauses for a moment, wariness on her face. She then leans in and squeezes my hand. “Okay, you know how I’ve been planning to retire from being a companion? I’m getting older, and men want the young girls. Plus, design is something I’ve always wanted to try.”
I nod.
“I’ve decided I’m moving to California—with Lewis.”
My head races. “Wait. What? You’releavingNew York?”
She chews on her lip. “Not right away. I’ll stay until the baby is born in June, then fly back and forth, maybe once a month? Auntie Cece, remember?”
I shake my head. “When did all this happen?”
“Life changes when you least expect it—you know that.” She stares at her hands. “Lewis asked me to marry him a few months ago, but I didn’t mention it because you’d gone through the Edward thing, then lost your job—then the baby news came along. Plus, I was still deciding if I’d accept his offer ...” She pauses. “This last time I saw him in LA, I said yes. You’ll adore him, Fran.”
I process through my muddled brain. Lewis, right. Geeky Silicon Valley tech-business owner. Billionaire.
“He wants to get married next fall. He loves me or thinks he does. Dumb, right? Anyway, he bought me a house in Palo Alto a while back, remember? I’ve barely been there, but he gave it to me to use whenever I want. It’s so pretty, Fran: lakes and gardens and gorgeous furniture.”
Nausea bubbles in my stomach. She never told me. She never asked me for advice. What is happening to us?
“Oh, Fran, honey, your face is doing that red thing. I’m sorry to throw this at you right now. I really thought I’d end up staying here with you, but this feels right. The good news is that since I told Lewis yes, I’ve let my clients go. You’re my focus right now.”
She continues, “And, if you want, we could all make a new start in California. You can get settled in my house and figure out what you want to do. Maybe find a cool place in LA to work. Brogan can go back to med school. Lewis is totally on board with whatever makes me happy, Fran, and me happy is knowing you are okay.” She tightens her clasp on my hands. “I know how you feel about being left behind, but I’m not really leaving; I’m just moving. We can text and talk all the time.”
Help from Lewis? I don’t want his help. I don’t freaking know him.
And he’s taking my friend away.
“Are you okay?”
I pull away from her. “No, Cece, I’m not. You didn’t even tell me. I’m your best friend. You’re ...” Abandoning me. “My family. I’m having a baby! I thought you’d be here!”
“I’m sorry.” Her lip wobbles. “Truly. I didn’t want to upset you, honey.”
I rub my forehead, willing the stupid tears away.
It’s just ...
She’s the friend who knows all your dirty secrets and doesn’t bat a lash. She’s the life of the party who makes sure you get home, then tucks you in. She’s the girl who makes you giggle even when it feels like the end of the world. My head plays snapshots of us bingeingGilmore Girlsin our pj’s, the game nights with Mr.Darden where she steals something just to make him come looking for her. I’ve seen her fall apart—and held her—when she lost her parents, when a client got handsy and smacked her around.
She’s one half of my ride or die.
I wrestle with my emotions, part of me wanting to be happy for her. But the other side is terrified of losing her. “Do you love him?”
She smiles slowly, the sincere one. “Oh, honey, I don’t have a heart, but he makes it beat. I like him a whole, whole lot.”
My throat tightens. What can I say tothat?
I push down my anxiety. “If you stick me in some god-awful fluffy southern bridesmaid dress, I will stabyouin the eye. I do not do bows on my ass.”
She throws her arms around me. “Honey, your dress will be couture and make you look fabulous. Now open that gift before I have a hissy fit wondering what it is.”
“Fine.” I tear the brown paper, open the box, and gasp at the gold necklace. The chain shimmers in the sunlight from the windows, highlighting the two-inch teardrop emerald in the center. On either side are two slightly smaller topaz jewels. My fingers rub the stone in the middle. It’s his eyes: green with yellow sparks. “Tuck,” I whisper.
“So pretty, and oh my God; nothing says ‘I want to fuck you’ like shiny jewels.” She claps her hands. “Just looking at them makes me hot.”
“It matches his eyes.” I ease the necklace back inside the velvet box and pick up the handwritten note.