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She looked at me, a big fatplease help me,broadcasted in those storm cloud eyes.
“You called me out for talking too loudly.”
Sophie pulled a face, shook her head, and leaned back against the wall. “You were being disruptive. I was just trying to hear what Prof Ventiko was saying in case Vicki quizzed me when I got back.”
For the shortest of moments, we both held our breaths, waiting to see if the lie—which was fairly believable in my opinion—had done enough to melt Vicki’s suspicion away.
When Vicki burst out laughing, I once more experienced that airy relief, a relief I actually embraced this time, of a secret kept safe—a secret I didn’t even understand fully yet.
“I would never quiz you,” said Vicki, her big, bright blue eyes capable of making anyone believe whatever she said. Unlike Sophie, Vicki could lie like it was second nature. She had done it for two of the three years we’d been together—lying about not being ready for kids, promising me she just needed more time to get her career where she wanted it to be. It never, not even once, occurred to me that she had no intention of having kids at all, and she was secretly hoping I would grow tired of waiting and stop asking.
Sophie made a face. “Yeah right. You quizzed me after that palsy seminar last month.”
Vicky chuckled. “Who doesn’t love a good quiz—”
The woman with the brown hair from earlier suddenly appeared at the door. “Vicki. There’s a phone call for you. Dr. Kampel about a patient with an ORIF.”
“I can go if you need me to,” volunteered Sophie, pushing herself off the wall, eager to get away. Considering everything, I didn’t blame her, yet the last thing I wanted was for her to run off and disappear.
“No, no,” said Vicki, standing up. “You treat Alex. I’ll go check on the patient.” She headed to the door and stopped when she reached it. Turning around, Vicki gripped the handle, and I caught sight of the tan indent on her ring finger that was still visible. I had no idea what she’d done with that ring. The only thing that made sense was that she had either kept it or sold it to buy a whole new living room set. The latter probably. “By the way, Alex. I’ve called some movers to help with the couch and coffee table. I’ve given them your address.”
I nodded. “Send that box of tennis rackets and whatever you don’t want along with the couch. I’ll sort through it this week.”
She smiled. “Will do.”
After Vicki disappeared into the hallway, Sophie and I both eyed the door, listening to Vicki’s footsteps dim to nothing.
Sophie was the first to talk. She ran her fingers through her hair, and then straightened her scrub top, although it couldn’t get any straighter. “Look, Alex. I don’t know what I’m going to do just yet. I have no idea. I’m basically just trying to keep my head above water today and . . . ” Her voice trailed off. She chewed on her bottom lip, glancing down to the floor before flicking her gaze up to meet mine, her eyes less stormy, as if the sun was breaking through the clouds. “I just need some time to figure things out and when I do, I will call you, alright? I promise. But that’s as much as I want to talk to you about this right now . . . Let me have a look at your back.”
“Alright,” I said, believing she’d do what she promised, just as a twinge of pain settled in the center of my lower back. It looked like the adrenaline had finally worn off.
CHAPTER 11
Sophie
“You know this is cruel,” I grumbled, pouring Merlot into Becks’ empty glass. “Like worse than that time I sprained my ankle and had to watch you and Caleb jumping on the trampolines at Sky Zone like crazy monkeys.”
Becks laughed and fell back onto the sofa, her hot pink skirt billowing around her waist.
She smoothed the pleats and shook her head. “It wasn’t me that got you pregnant.”
Setting the bottle aside, I turned to face her and held up the glass of wine, smelling it as a connoisseur would. Three small sniffs to embrace the fruity notes of black cherry.
Pregnant meant no wine, no sushi, and apparently no deli meats. There was a whole horde of things to do and not to do, books and books filled with instructions, and an internet full of unsolicited advice. The only way I was coping was by ignoring everything.
For now, at least.
“If you were my best friend, you’d drink tea with me,” I added.
“I am your best friend,” laughed Becks. “And therefore, you can’t possibly force me to drinktea. Especially after the day I had. Do you know how difficult it is to get vomit out of scrubs?”
I pulled a face—since vomit-stained scrubs were nothing compared to the massive problem I was facing—and walked my cup of tea and the glass of wine to the living room. Becks scooted forward and reached for her glass. “I still can’t believe the guy you slept with was Vicki’s fiancé,” she said, taking a sip, her eyes rolling back briefly in her head as she savored the taste—a clear exaggeration meant to irk me even more. “The chances of that happening are, like, really low . . . Although maybe not that low. Caleb seems to think it wasn’t all that weird that you two met at a medical conference, considering you’re both in the medical field. Something about statistical probabilities.” Becks blew out a breath. “Sometimes it’s hard to be married to an actuary.”
“At least you’re not pregnant,” I quipped, eyeing the glass in her hand. The problem wasn’t even that I loved wine, or drank it often, but rather that my life had changed suddenly and without my consent. All because I’d been far too absorbed in Alex to remember about a condom.
And now I had an itty-bitty baby growing inside me—a baby I couldn’t even imagine raising, but would never consider giving up.
“It’s weird to imagine that Vicki was once engaged,” said Becks, ignoring my comment, “let alone to someone as hot as Alex. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Vicki is cute. She’s got those big blue eyes going for her, but Alex . . . ” Becks fanned herself with her free hand as if it were a hundred degrees inside. “He’s a hottie. Which kind of makes me feel worse about you sleeping with him.”
