AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Gosh, thanks.”
Becks laughed and patted my knee. “Alex is obviously the one who ended things withher. It’s normal to feel sorry for the person who got dumped.”
“What makes you think that?” I asked. Out of all the information zooming about in my head, that was the last thing I had thought of—Alex dumping Vicki.
Becks shrugged. “I don’t know. Call it a gut feeling. I just feel so sorry for her. Like today, when she was going on and on about the precautions after a patient’s surgery, I swear I didn’t hear a thing. I kept imagining Vicki on the floor, crying hard and ugly over Alex when he declared their relationship was over.”
“How do you thinkIfeel?” I snapped, a little too harshly, and then buried my face in my hands. Seeing Vicki, talking to her as if I hadn’t slept with her ex-fiancé in a work seminar, as if I wasn’t fighting morning sickness, as if everything was fine and dandy, had been exceptionally hard over the last two days.
“Horrible,” said Becks plainly. “Like the worst person in the world.”
“Exactly,” I exclaimed, blinking tears out of my eyes.
I wasn’t crying. Not in the conventional sense. I was angry instead of sad, annoyed instead of disappointed, but these damn hormones were making me emotional.
Becks turned to face me, pressing her legs together and leaning sideways against the sofa’s backrest. She kept her hand on my knee and patted me. “Technically you shouldn’t have to feel bad, Soph. It’s not like you knew. If it’s anyone’s fault, it is Vicki’s.”
I shook my head, in awe of Becks' ability to rationalize things. “How exactly is it her fault?”
"Vicki literally shares nothing about her life," replied Becks, her face still deadpan. "You and I don't even know how old she is or if she's got a cat—she seems like a cat person—or where she was born or if she likes to kill people in her spare time. If we'dknown she was dating hottie Dr. Roberts from Santa Rosa, you'd probably never have slept with him."
“Of course, I wouldn’t have.”
“Well, there you have it. You’re a good person.” Becks squeezed my knee once more and then stood up, heading to the kitchen. “Have you got any snacks, Soph?” she asked as she went.
“In the cabinet to the left of the sink,” I said, following her into the kitchen.
Becks ripped open a packet and grabbed out a handful of salty chips. “So,” she asked, her brows raised, her dark hair toppling over her shoulders. “What are you going to do?”
“You keep asking me that,” I muttered and rounded the island. I still had no clue what I was going to do about the whole thing.
“Only because you keep changing the subject,” said Becks, shoving two large chips in her mouth and chewing briefly before she added, “Are you still living in ‘delulu’ land? Thinking you’re not pregnant when I literally saw you scrunch up your nose at a grilled cheese sandwich when I know youlovecheese?”
The sandwich had made my stomach churn, but Dr. Google said morning sickness usually started at six weeks and I was barely at five. “I am not delusional. I’ve even booked an appointment with the gynecologist in two weeks, it just . . . ” I cut myself off, closed my eyes, and imagined I was standing on a beach, water rippling around my ankles, the sound of seagulls in the air. A meditation trick I’d picked up last night from a book I’d borrowed from Danny– though it wasn’t exactly helping. Instead of seagulls squawking, I heard babies crying.
When I opened my eyes again, Becks was frowning deeply. “What was that about?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly and carried on with what I had intended to say. “I guess I wasn’t expecting to have kids untilI was at least thirty-five. You know, when I had my life sorted out.”
“And what exactly does it look like to have your life sorted?”
I stuck a finger in her direction.
Becks had done everything in the correct order. Fell in love in college, got married a few years later, bought a house and then a dog, and in a few short years they’d probably start trying for babies.
“Like you and Caleb. You’re married. You’ve got a house—”
“A mortgaged house that we’re praying we can pay off considering Caleb’s still a junior at work. The grass doesn’t always look greener on the other side, Soph. Besides, life doesn’t have to look a specific way. It’s different for everyone.”
“Since when did you get so annoyingly wise?”
“Since I turned thirty-one,” laughed Becks. “Don’t worry, you’ve still got plenty of time for that—”
The doorbell rang.
I shot a look toward the front door as if I had X-ray vision and could see who was standing on the other side.
“I thought I was your only guest for the evening.” Becks frowned.
