“It doesn’t matter. I’m not talking to him ever again.”
“How far along are you?”
“I don’t really know yet. No, that’s a lie. I know exactly when it happened. I think I’m about eight weeks.”
“Have you been to the doctor?”
“No. I’m still trying to decide what I want to do.”
“Sure. What do you want to do?”
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t expecting this. Part of me it’s always wanted to be a mom, but... I just... it’s not the right time. My life is kind of a mess. And we’re so busy...”
I crossed the floor and took her hands in mine, staring into her eyes. “Listen to me. I’m here, in your corner. No matter what decision you make. If you want to have this baby, I will be there by your side, holding your hand the entire way no matter what.”
“And if I don’t?”
I swallowed my throat dry, my stomach in knots because she was facing an impossible choice. There was no way in hell I was going to judge her for it.
“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I will help you make the appointment. I will take you to that clinic. I will stay with you. No one’s going to abandon you for making a decision like that, and we’re not going to judge you. This is a life-changing moment for you. I just need you to know that no matter which way you go, I’m here for you and I support you.”
She blinked as tears ran down her cheeks. “Okay, thanks. I really need to think about it.”
“Okay. If you want to come over and just sit on the deck and think about it with me, you can.”
She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me like she used to when she was little, with her whole body suctioned to me like a little octopus.
“You really don’t want to tell me who it was?”
“No. No, I really don’t.”
“Was it at least your choice?”
“Yes. It was my stupid choice.”
“Okay. Was it good?”
She laughed through her tears. “So good. Really, really good. Like the forever kind of good, which of course is stupid. Forever doesn’t exist with fuckboys like that one. I should have known that.”
“I just—”
“No. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Can we just decorate some fucking macarons, please? I’m finally not feeling sick this morning, and I’d really like to do something normal that doesn’t involve me hanging my head in the toilet.”
“Sure.”
She washed her hands and I did the same, then we went back to filling the cookies. Each of us with our own tray. Mine were salted caramel chocolate, and she had blueberry cream with a brush of gold dust on the top. As I swirled the filling around onto what seemed like my millionth cookie of the day, something occurred to me.
“You said he didn’t tell me. Did Taylor know about this? You told him, but you didn’t tell me.”
Her shoulders slumped. “It wasn’t like that. Don’t get mad at him.”
I couldn’t help it, though. It was a big secret to keep from me. It hurt. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me.”
“I wasn’t gonna tell anyone. But he came in and caught me barfing, and it just sort of slipped out. Then he stepped in the buttercream, and he fell and hurt his knee. He promised he wouldn’t tell you, and I kind of threatened him. I wasn’t ready for anybody to know. I was so embarrassed.”
Maybe that’s why he’s been so distant, because he had a secret from me. He was hurting and dealing with his injury, but also, he was trying to keep it close to his chest so he didn’t break Scarlett’s confidence.
“Promise you won’t be mad at him. I swear, I forced him to agree. He wanted to tell you. I think probably if he hadn’t hurt himself, he would have.”