Page 22 of Dirty Fighter

“Oh, honey. You don’t sound so good. Tell Mama what happened. Is it that asshat Ron again? What did he do now? What more could he possibly do? I hate him. The bastard.”

“Jill,” I choke out on a too-emotional laugh because:

A) She is ridiculous

B) She’s not my or anyone else’s “Mama”

And C) Ron isn’t a bastard… though it might be easier if he was.

“Right, right,” she mutters before sucking and expelling a deep breath that I’m betting is accompanied by some kind of neck-rolling, shoulder-shaking, full-body-shimmy… all under the guise of a cleanse to prepare for some active listening. “I’m ready.”

I cast a glance behind me at Jason. His head is down, and the way he’s rubbing his neck conveys pure frustration.

“I don’t think you are. Not for this.”

“Oh my God. You’re pregnant!” The squealing resumes. “I knew it!”

What?! “I’m not pregnant.”

“You’re sure? Because Ro, I am digging the idea of us raising little Edith Marie together.” Jill is the enthusiastic type. “She could call me ‘Mama’ and you can be ‘Mommy.’ Oooooh! We would be so freaking cute at the baby classes. I’d be the fucking best Lamaze partner. You know I would be.”

She takes a breath, and that’s my cue to reply. “You would absolutely be the best Lamaze partner, life partner, and co-mother to any baby I unexpectedly found myself carrying. But alas, I’m still not pregnant.”

“Boo.” She’s going to sulk about this. No question.

“I know. But honestly, it’s for the best because this kind of stress would not be good for the baby.”

“Our baby,” she corrects with a little too much conviction.

“Right. Exactly.”

“What’s going on, girl?”

“Well… I got to the cabin yesterday, and at first everything was fine. I was a little emotional.”

“Of course. First time seeing the place and all.”

“So I took your advice.”

“With the wine and snacks, dance-off pants-off style? Yes!”

“Yes. Only less than an hour later, Jason showed up!”

“What?” That exuberant, sing-songy, free-association train of thought thing is gone, and my best friend is now laser focused. “Hot-and-Sour Jason? The hockey player with the ‘lights out’ right hook? Ed’s son… that Jason? What the hell is he doing there? Why now?”

“He showed up with half his team. And Jill, he thinks the cabin is his.”

There’s nothing over-the-top about her gasp. It’s the only response. “Are you okay? That had to be awful to tell him.”

“It was not great.”

“But how did he not know? I mean, I guess that doesn’t really matter so much as how did he take it?”

“He just stared at me for a minute, like there was some ‘Does not compute’ announcement playing through his brain. And then⁠—”

God, he’d looked so… betrayed.

Only not by the man who made the choice to leave the property to his wife over his son… He looked like he’d been betrayed by me.