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I shrug. “Hang out with Tucker. He’s so thrilled not to have to go shopping, I could probably get him to agree to anything.”
“Text her and tell her to send me the details.” She doesn’t look excited by the prospect, but then, Charlie’s never really been into shopping.
She retrieves the mirror and massage oil and settles down to work her magic. I’m still amazed that something as simple as an optical illusion can relieve my phantom pain, but there’s no doubt it’s helped. Tonight, though, Charlie’s distress flows through her fingertips. She works my muscles intensely, almost painfully, and I’m secretly relieved when she finishes.
She climbs into bed and curls up against me, but instead of facing the door as usual, she burrows her head into my shoulder.
I glance down at her. “Wanna talk about it?”
There’s a long pause. “Not tonight,” she says finally.
I kiss the top of her head. “Whenever you’re ready, you know where to find me. Can I do anything?”
“Can we just stay like this for a while?”
I tug the covers up and wrap my arm around her. “For as long as you want.”
She falls asleep like that, her head on my left shoulder and her left hand on my chest, leaving me wondering what the hell went wrong on her date with Blake.
CHARLIE
I awaken at seven as usual, despite being awake until after two. Lila will be here before nine, giving me just enough time to shower, dress, and throw a few things into my carry-on. Lila’s a marathon shopper. My role is to follow along and occasionally offer an opinion.
I’m wolfing down coffee and toast when she arrives. She’s dressed in form-fitting jeans and a flowy periwinkle top that makes her eyes even more luminous. Perfect blond curls spill over her shoulders. Meanwhile, I’m wearing comfortable jeans, a soft coral tee, and running shoes. She frowns at me. “Why are you eating? You know we’re going to brunch.”
“It’s toast. I can make room.”
Lila has today and tomorrow’s outlet shopping already mapped out. Apparently, she “needs” dresses, shoes, and decor for her newly finished basement. She also has a burning desire for mimosas over brunch and Mexican food for dinner. I’m merely a prop in her endeavor.
I pull my sunglasses down and rest my head against the headrest while she zips through the curvy mountain roads in the bright sunlight, singing along with the radio. I doze off and wake up to her saying my name. I stir and blink tired eyes.
“Wake up, Sleepyhead. I’m starving.”
Brunch at Magnolia Cafe is a shopping-trip tradition. Every time Lila drags me on what I’ve nicknamed her Acquisition Expeditions, I fortify myself with mid-morning mimosas. Consolation for my aching feet will occur tonight with bottomless margaritas and tacos.
Lila’s halfway through her honey-crunch waffles and sausage when she looks at me nervously. “I went off the pill January first,” she blurts.
It takes a minute for her words to sink in. “You’re pregnant?” I’m startled, but only because Lila hasn’t mentioned wanting a baby, and she usually keeps me in the loop, especially on something so monumental.
She shakes her head. “No. Not yet. But maybe soon. At least, I hope so. We’re trying.”
Her words imply enthusiasm, but her tone and expression seem distressed, and I don’t understand the disconnect. “That’s good, right?” I ask cautiously.
She nods, reaching for her mimosa but not taking a drink. Her eyes never leave my face.
“Then why do you look like it’s a bad thing?”
She swallows. “I wasn’t sure what you’d think.”
“I think you guys will be amazing parents.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
I can’t figure out why she’s so troubled. “What am I missing?”
She bites her lip. “I wasn’t sure how you’d feel if I got pregnant.”
“Thrilled,” I answer, still confused.
