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“When do you leave again?” I ask, changing the subject back to France.
“Well.” She shifts in her seat. “We can’t stay as long as normal this time. We have to get back.” She wiggles in her seat more and I can see now she is almost bursting to tell me something. “We have been seeing a fertility specialist. When we get back we’re going to start trying for a baby.” I let out a small scream as I jump up from my chair to run over to give her a hug. She’s been hinting about babies here and there over the past year. Star will give Maisie anything she wants and if being a mom is something Maisie desires, Star is going to make sure it happens. Both of them are going to make excellent parents.
“I’m so happy for you.” I pull back from the hug to see that she is smiling so big. Her eyes are filled with happy tears. “You’re going to make a wonderful mom.”
“You’re going to make a kickass aunt.” She hugs me again. “Maybe a mom one day too.” Her small comment makes my stomach drop. Everything inside of me freezes. Sometimes for being such a smart person I can be really freaking stupid. I was on birth control. The key word being was. I’d forgotten all about it since I started staying at Mack’s. I haven’t taken it in weeks. I have a sudden urge to smile yet cry simultaneously. My mind starts racing with the possibility of me being pregnant with Mack’s baby. I’m internally freaking out.
“I could be pregnant,” I whisper. Maisie pulls back from the hug with her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open. Her face probably looks the same as mine right now. Then her expression turns into a smile.
“What if we end up pregnant at the same time!” She starts to jump up and down. I drop back down into my chair. Of course she would be celebrating as I’m about to have an emotional breakdown. The only thing I can concentrate on are the what if’s. What if Mack doesn’t want a baby, what if this ruins our friendship and my greatest fear of all, what if he stays with me because of the baby and not because he loves me? I’m on the verge of tears but I hold them back, not wanting to ruin Maisie’s good news. It looks like living in the moment isn’t going to work anymore. I am going to have to face reality if it turns out that I am pregnant.
Chapter 18
Mack
Dally is real quiet when she gets into the car. I fiddle with the air conditioner. “This good for you?”
She nods and then rests her head against the window as if the day has taken its toll on her.
“Bad day?” I ask because her feeling blue and me not doing anything about it isn’t an option.
“No. Not really.”
That doesn’t sound very honest. “Heard you had lunch with Maisie. She tell you the good news?”
“Mmmm-hmmm.”
I give her a worried look. “Should we go buy something for them? Like, I don’t know, booties or hats?” I don’t have a lot of interaction with babies but it seems like they’re always wrapped in a blanket with their heads covered or little footies on.
“Sure. If you want,” comes the unenthusiastic response.
I’m growing worried. “Do you need ice cream?”
“Ice cream?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t that make everyone feel better?” I mean, for me, sex would erase any bad mood, but as dumb as I am even I know that’s not the right response in this situation. “Nah, but seriously, you look unhappy and that doesn’t sit well with me. If I did something, let me know or if there’s someone I can beat up on your behalf, it’d be my pleasure. Final option, I can just shut up and drive.”
“It’s none of those,” she says quietly.
Silence falls again, tight and heavy in the car. I have a moment of indecision and then drive to the river. The valet at the car park opens the door for Dally, who looks confused.
“Ice cream,” I say. “There’s that vendor down at the shore that serves the homemade stuff, remember?”
“Oh, right.”
I toss the keys to the valet. “Keep the engine warm,” I tell him. When I reach Dally’s side, I tuck her arm into my elbow and lead her down the concrete walkway. There’s a slight breeze that tickles the hair along Dally’s forehead. I reach over and brush the strands away from her face.
“I was thinking about getting a new place,” I say.
“What’s wrong with your house? Are you moving away?” There’s an edge of panic to her voice.
Immediately, I try to explain. “I thought it’d be easier if I lived closer so you wouldn’t have such a long commute when you stayed over.”
