Page 115 of The Best Shot

“Just say it.”

I looked past her, out toward the front windows. A woman was pushing a double stroller through the lot, one kid eating a cookie, the other asleep.

“I want you to stay,” I said.

“I know.”

“But I know that’s not what you need.”

She adjusted her grip on the cart.

“When did you decide?” I asked.

“A few weeks ago.” She paused. “I came home late one night and saw my stuff everywhere. Vitamins, shoes, mail, baby books. It hit me then that I had spots for things, but not a place.”

“If you need more room, I can⁠—”

“I’m a guest, Yaz. A really loved guest. But still.”

“Ceece—”

“You gave me somewhere safe,” she said quickly. “I know how lucky I am. I do. But I need to build something that’s mine.”

She kept going, quieter now. “I want a mailbox with my name on it. I want to pick out a crib and know which wall it’s going on.”

“You could pick a wall here.”

“I stood in the spare room last week with a measuring tape.” She shook her head. “There’s no wall.”

I wanted to argue, but I couldn’t find an argument that wasn’t selfish.

“Denise and I were at the deli yesterday. She had the lease.” She bit her lip. “I’ve never signed one, Yaz. Not once. I went from my Mama’s to Shaun’s Mama’s to your spare room. I’m about to have a baby and I’ve never had my own address.”

“I’ve already signed,” she said.

“Okay.” My voice came out rough.

“Please don’t make me feel bad about this.”

“I am happy for you.” I took her hand. “But I’m going to miss you like hell and I don’t want you to go. All of those things can be true.”

Her eyes welled up quick. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be the crying pregnant lady in the Shop&Go.”

“You started it.”

She pressed her wrist to her eye. “This is embarrassing.”

“You’re leaving me. You’d better cry.”

“I’m not crying about leaving. I’m crying because you’re being nice about it.” She sniffed. “I had a whole speech. I was ready to fight you.”

“With the belly?”

“Yeah.”

“I would’ve won.”

She laughed. “Probably.”