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Samantha
It wasa mistake to wear an uncomfortable pushup bra.
And my heels are an even bigger one.
Why do I even care how I look? It’s not like I’m auditioning to be his girlfriend.
What if there are other baby mommas?
A tinge of jealousy needles me, which makes little sense. If I were vying for his fortune, other baby mommas would certainly be something to worry about. But there isn’t a single thing Toxic could give me I don’t already have.
Pulling into the parking lot of Deep Drips Cafe, I find a faraway corner to park and prepare myself for what I assume will be one of the worst moments of my life.
You can do this. It’s just a coffee meeting. A negotiation.
My hand trembles as I reapply my makeup, which is something that never happens to me, as I’m typically as calm and collected as a surgeon.
In front of the cafe, I spy Natasha’s old car. The Cunnilingus Corolla, as Elliot and I have taken to calling it because it’s the one that Natasha got noshed in.
You got this.
On my walk to the cafe, I search for the words I’d been rehearsing the entire trip over. But they’re gone, abandoning me when I need them most.
Which never happens. I am on top of my game one-hundred percent of the time, and being anything less than the sharpest tool in the shed has me wanting to flee.
The first thing I see when I enter the cafe is balloons. So many balloons.
The second is Toxic.
Holding the balloons.
“What are you doing?” I snap, scanning the room in horror, hoping that no one recognizes me.
He looks like a golden retriever in human form, with a dopey grin and two excited eyes that expect to be taken for a walk.
It’s not fair that he’s so elated when I wake up each morning gripped with terror.
“You look amazing!” he says, charging forward. The balloons knocking together, sounding like an old school video game.
I extend my hand to shake, but his arms spread and he lunges at me.
I step away, my back hitting the door that’s just swung shut.
“I am uncomfortable,” I snap, turning my face so that it doesn’t connect with his as we hug.
His arms fall immediately at the sign of my distress. “I’m sorry, I just got excited.”
“Clearly.”
His eyes are now glued to my stomach, which, at the moment, is flat. I’ve had a few bad bloat days where I thought itwas the end for me and my size 4s, but I still have precious time left.
He gestures to a table. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you a few things.”
“There are five drinks on that table and a plate full of pastries.”
“All caffeine free,” he assures me with a wink.
