20
M C woke up the next morning to the smell of frying bacon.
Nora was gone.
Groaning, she sat up, clapped her hands to the sides of her head, and tried to squeeze all the fuzziness and aching between her ears into submission. It didn’t work.
She swallowed a few ibuprofen instead and poured herself into the shower.
When she emerged, dressed and a little more alive, she found Gabby in the kitchen, flipping pancakes, looking rumpled in one of Conrad’s old hoodies. But her smile was radiant. MC was relieved.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Gabby said.
“Starving.”
MC poured herself a coffee and slumped into one of the stools at the island.
The kitchen was mostly put away, but there was still a mess of pots and pans across the counters in various stages of drying, a pile of dirty napkins for the laundry in a corner by the fridge.
She focused hard on the napkins, on their festive colors, desperate to think about anything other than the fact that she and Nora Pike had slept together.
“Did you, uh, have any morning sickness?” MC asked.
“A little nausea here and there in October. But I just kept thinking I had a stomach bug.” Gabby shook her head. “I still can’t believe there’s actually a little human getting cooked up in there.”
“Me neither.” MC laughed. “Or that you changed a tire during the cooking.”
“And went out dancing!” She tossed her hair out of her eyes. “Thank god I hardly drink.”
“I’m impressed you had the energy to enjoy yourself.”
“I just got lucky with this first trimester.” She sighed. “Hopefully I stay lucky. It would really suck if I had to give up my whole life after this baby arrives.”
“I don’t think you will.”
“I want to be able to still do all that stuff when I’m mommed up, you know? Change tires. Go out sometimes.”
“As long as Joe’s in your geographical region, you’ll have a willing partner.”
“Speaking of willing partners.” Gabby stacked the pancakes on a plate and pulled a carton of eggs from the fridge. “I saw some serious looks passing between you and Nora last night. Not to mention a few conspicuous absences.”
“Oh.” MC blushed, her night with Nora flashing before her. Again. “Yeah.”
“That’s it? Where are my details?”
“What details?” Conrad said, shuffling into the kitchen in a flannel pajama set. His stubble was unkempt, his eyes were puffy, and his hair was sticking straight up on one side.
“Nothing,” MC said.
“MC and Nora are becoming a thing,” Gabby said, kissing him on the cheek. She went back to cracking eggs onto the griddle.
“We’re not,” MC said, not wanting to think about what it meant that she and Nora had done something so incredibly ill-advised.
“You keep saying that,” Conrad teased.
“We just... need to talk.”
“About what?”
About the novel Nora had secretly written about MC, which now had millions of eager fans across the country scouring the internet for any clues that could lead them to its mysterious author.
About the article MC was secretly writing about Nora, which could blow up both their lives if she did it wrong.
But what she said was: “I just don’t think either of us is ready to get involved in a relationship right now.”
“It’s hardly long distance,” Gabby said.
“Not because of that.” And because MC couldn’t give the real reason, she added, “I went through kind of a rough breakup at the end of the summer.”
“What?” Gabby frowned. “How long was the relationship?”
“Almost a year.”
“Holy shit!”
“It’s not like you think,” MC said. “I start slow, keep it casual for a while, and then, when I finally commit... I get left.”
Gabby whipped her spatula through the air, scandalized. “Why?”
MC remembered Lisa laughing in Grand Army Plaza, her boyfriend’s hand roaming across her chest. “I think maybe I’m boring.”
“Oh, come on,” said Conrad.
“Whatever it is, I’m not trying jump into something right now. Especially with a person from my past.”
“Really?” Gabby said. “I think that’s the perfect person to jump into something with.”
Conrad frowned. “Why?”
“Because it means they get some core part of you. If they knew you a long time ago, and they still want you now, that’s deep.” She gave him a pointed look.
He turned away, picking up a piece of bacon.
They ate breakfast and talked about the night, what a great time everyone had, how weird Lance was—their mom was coming by before she had to head to the airport, another awkward encounter MC didn’t want to think about.
Conrad smiled in the right places and even perked up once he was on his second cup of coffee, but MC knew something was off.
When Gabby left to shower, MC started washing the dishes and said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Why?”
She tried to keep her voice casual. “It’s just big news, that’s all. Becoming a dad.”
“Hasn’t really sunk in yet.” He stared at the floor.
“You’ll do great.”
“Will I?”
“You tend to ace whatever you put your mind to.”
“It’s putting my mind to it that I’m worried about.”
MC pretended to focus on dislodging a chunk of egg from the spatula. “Why would you be worried about that?”
“I don’t know.” He looked strangely helpless. “I don’t feel ready, I guess.”
“I think you’ll be ready when the time comes.” She paused. “If you want to be.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” His voice sounded distant. “I have to run to the liquor store. Mom’s insisting on mimosas.”
Which was probably true. But MC sensed he was also looking for an excuse to leave. And maybe he needed the fresh air. Maybe pushing him the morning after Gabby’s announcement, with Gabby still in the house, was a bad angle of approach.
She thought of Nora’s advice about leaving it alone, about needing time to earn his trust.
“I’ve got the rest of the dishes,” she said.
He looked at her with gratitude in his eyes. “You sure?”
“Totally.”
After Conrad left, Gabby decided to take a nap. So MC flopped down on the couch and opened her message thread with Joe.
She was still far from thrilled about the prospect of writing the article, but the emergence of a workaround last night kept her from panicking.
She just needed Joe to approve it.
She was starting to type when she heard a voice rising somewhere outside. She turned around and peered out the windows, over the picket fence, to where Nora was standing on her front porch in a silk robe.
Her arms were folded tightly across her chest.
Jen was standing just below, at the foot of the stairs.
MC’s heart dropped to her stomach. Her first thought was that Jen and Nora had been inside together.
But the picture wasn’t quite right—Jen’s scarf was snug around her neck, like she’d been in the cold for a while, and Nora was wearing a pair of untied hiking boots, like she’d just stepped out.
Jen’s truck was parked a little down the driveway.
Jen gestured toward the bare branches overhead. Nora’s posture remained stiff, closed off.
MC knew she should stay out of it, whatever it was.
But the possibility that Jen was harassing Nora made her antsy.
She’d given Conrad space because she was still in the process of earning his trust. But what she and Nora had done last night—secrets aside—made her feel like maybe, for once, she shouldn’t be afraid of stepping in.
She pulled on her sneakers and walked out to the gate in the fence.
Jen was still yelling. “Do you honestly think you don’t owe me that?”
“I’m done with this conversation,” Nora said, watching MC cross the lawn.
MC had to stuff her hands in her jacket pockets to hide that they were shaking. “Everything okay out here?” she called.
“Wow,” Jen said, giving MC an up-and-down. “Perfect timing.”
“Jen,” Nora warned.
“What? Does it make you uncomfortable to have this all out in the open?” Jen snorted. “When she drops you without any explanation, MC, it’s because she moved on to someone else and decided to skip the annoying part where she bothers to tell you.”
“Enough,” Nora said.
Jen raised her hands. “All good. I’m done.”
She turned around and walked back to her truck.
MC watched her go, then looked to Nora for explanation.
“Great start to my day,” Nora muttered.
An engine revved behind them.
“Maybe you should’ve stuck around with me,” MC said, glancing back at her house. Jen’s truck creaked loudly as it backed out. “Can I ask what got her to come to your doorstep like this?”
“A text from Jerry.” Nora shifted her hips, silk robe straining a little, as she watched the truck speed off down the empty road. “I guess you and I weren’t very subtle at dinner.”
MC sighed. “My brother and Gabby may also have been spreading the word.”
Nora’s gaze snapped back to her. “What word, exactly?”
“Nothing serious. They’re just in matchmaker mode.”
“Is that what this is all about? Them convincing you to be into me?”
“What? No.” MC shook her head. “Can we move the conversation inside, by the way? You look like you’re about to freeze.”
Nora frowned. “I’d rather put it on hold for now. If you don’t mind.”
“Actually, I do.” MC squared her shoulders; after last night, the stakes felt too high to just set communication aside as usual.
Nora frowned, then turned back toward her door, stepping through without even looking over her shoulder.
MC jogged over and climbed the stairs.
The door led to what MC suspected would be more accurately called a sitting room than a living room.
It was crammed with old-fashioned furniture, wingback chairs and tasseled ottomans, Persian rugs, brass lamps.
Painstakingly carved bookcases with glass doors held all kind of antiques, from candelabras and tiled boxes to ceremonial knives and porcelain figurines.
“Just your average suburban interior,” MC said, checking out a woven tapestry. It depicted a boar hunt.
“It’s my parents’ stuff.”
“From their travels?”