Chapter 7
Seven
Harper
“Oh, my God, Harper,” Luna says through a huge bite of my quiche (this time I made a normal-sized one instead of the finicky one-bite versions). “This may be the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“Tell that to Aiden.”
We all freeze.
Because that hadn’t come from our resident loudmouth, Luna (and I say that with no little amount of love—Luna is awesome).
But we all freeze because it wasn’t her.
Or Bri, who is just as funny but since she’s been all but adopted by Luna and Aiden has sworn to never—ever—speak of anything to do with their sex life.
And it’s not Kailey, who’s married to Smitty, the team’s resident loudmouth, either. Yeah, she doesn’t often get a word in, what with his personality and all, but she’s funny—her sense of humor wicked and dry in equal measure.
Instead, it’s Faye.
Quiet, romance author Faye Sullivan.
Who has a dirty mind, apparently.
I love that for her.
Same as I love how happy she is with her hockey captain boyfriend.
Luna’s head swivels toward Faye. “Oh, you dirty, dirty girl.”
“I mean,” Bri says, “she does write about it.”
Kailey giggles.
Hell, who am I kidding? I’m giggling too.
It feels nice to do something normal like Book Club—though it’s less about the actual books, much to the chagrin of Faye—and more about hanging out, shooting the shit, and unwinding with empty carbs and mocktails.
This is in consideration of the two preggo women amongst our ranks.
Meanwhile, they don’t know that I actually make it three now.
I spread my hand out on my belly.
How is a baby growing inside me?
“Anyway,” Luna says through another bite of quiche and I quickly shift, reaching for my mocktail.
Faye, as a surprise to no one, is as good at crafting cocktails as she is at baking.
I take a big sip, reveling in the sweet of the mango, the tart of the raspberry puree, the slight bite of the bubbles from the club soda.
Yum.
“Anyway what?” Kailey asks.
“Anyway,” Luna repeats, drawing out the word in such a way that I drag my attention from the dried flowers Faye had artistically placed on the surface of the mocktail and look over at her.
Then realize she’s staring at me.
“What’s up?” I ask, resisting the urge to slink out of the room.
Luna has that look in her eyes—the one that Aiden says calls forth her Luna Magic.
The one that turned me from caterer to kind-of-friend…and now into a woman who’s attending her third book club ever.
Even though I didn’t read the book.
“What’s up?” she asks. “What’s. Up?”
“Um,” Faye begins. “Luns—”
“What’s up?” She tosses her hands out to the side, sloshing the mocktail over the rim of her glass. “Shoot. Now I’m wasting Faye’s deliciousness—”
“Tell that to Gray,” Bri chimes in.
Luna grins at her. “Nice.” Then sobers as Kailey tosses her a napkin and she bends with a grunt to swipe at her mess. “But don’t try and distract me. That one—” She jabs a finger in my direction. “Is off.”
“I’m not,” I protest as four pairs of eyes pivot my direction. “I’m fine.”
Kailey tilts her head to the side, studying me in a way that has my stomach churning. “You don’t look fine,” she says. “You look…not sick exactly, but not yourself.”
“No,” Luna interjects. “She looks sick as fuck—and I don’t just mean her pale skin. The way you’re filling out that shirt…” Her mouth twitches and she lifts her hands, cupping them in front of her chest. “Are you on your period?” she asks. “Because that used to give me epic titties.”
“Luna,” Bri says on a sigh, shaking her head.
Faye smothers a smile. “I mean, am I surprised that Luna’s talking about titties—”
“You write porn for a living,” Luna points out.
A sniff. “I’ll have you know that I consider it smut and not porn, thank you very much.”
“What’s the difference?” Bri asks.
“The female gaze,” Faye replies without missing a beat.
“Nothing,” Luna says at the same time.
Of course, she does it with a smile that tells me she doesn’t believe what she’s saying—she’s just riling Faye up, trying to get a glimpse of that infamous redhead temper.
Faye glares at her. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t give me some nonsense about how real people have sex and so do my characters. Yes, that’s true. But also yes, you really like writing sex scenes that happen on the Zamboni.”
Faye’s cheeks go pink but her chin comes up. “Maybe real-life people have really hot sex on the Zamboni, okay? But real-life people don’t use words like titties.”
“I do.” Luna tosses her hair. “And I use the T-word.”
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation right now,” Bri mutters.
“I can,” Kailey says with a grin. Her face softens as she looks over at me, asks softly, “But seriously, you okay?”
Okay?
Nope. Not in the least.
Will be okay?
Of course I will.
I always am.
I open my mouth to tell her some version of that—mainly that, yes, I’m okay, that no, actually I’m great—but I don’t get the words out.
Because the moment my lips part, my stomach turns.
I plunk my drink on the coffee table and stand up in a rush, my head spinning, my stomach churning.
“Harper—”
Clamping a hand over my mouth, I rush from the room, hurrying down the hall and into Luna’s guest bathroom.
And there I lose my dinner.
Again.
Soft hands gently smooth back my hair, holding it away from my nape. Someone else places a cold compress there. One of the other women rubs my back, murmuring soft words. And Bri, I realize when I finally sit back and find myself surrounded by Kailey, Luna, and Faye…
“Here,” she says softly, passing me a cup.
I lift my brows in question.
“Flat Sprite.” A shrug. “Luna’s grandma swore by it for tummy problems.”
“Thanks,” I whisper then go for a joke. “Is tummy problems right up there with titties for words real people don’t use?”
Bri grins, but her eyes are full of concern. “Probably,” she says.
“You feel ready to get up?” Faye asks softly.
I nod, and she helps me to my feet, Kailey and Luna flanking me.
“Who knew we could fit this many women in one tiny bathroom?” I attempt to joke.
Faye squeezes my shoulder and Kailey smiles.
But no one laughs, least of all Luna.
She just marches me over to the couch and pushes me down onto the cushions. Then plunks her hands on her hips. “Spill.” A beat. “Immediately.”
I should refuse, just on principle alone.
But when I open my mouth, I don’t demure. Instead, I blurt, “I’m pregnant.”
And…
Silence.
Luna, no surprise, is the first to recover. “It’s Leo’s?”
I close my eyes, hate that a tear escapes, slipping from the corner of my eye and drifting down my cheek. “Yeah,” I whisper.
Faye sucks in a breath.
“I know,” I say, still whispering, “and maybe I should…you know.” I close my eyes for a moment. “It would certainly be less complicated, especially considering he’s with someone else. But”—I press my palm to my stomach—“I just can’t.”
“You’re keeping it,” Kailey murmurs.
I nod, even though I hadn’t known the answer myself until that moment. “Yes.”
“Does Leo know?” Faye asks gently.
I nod again. “I only found out yesterday, and he happened to be there asking me to cater a birthday party for his girlfriend—”
“Excuse me?” Luna asks, her tone deadly serious.
I wave a hand like that wasn’t important when, in fact, it was very important.
Very important.
“Anyway, Leo is on board with whatever I decide, and I can’t really say for sure until I see my doctor next week. I mean”—I nibble at my bottom lip—“things might not be right and then I’ll be worrying for nothing.”
Luna sinks down beside me, the anger leaving her eyes. “Leo’s on board with whatever you decide?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Is he going with you to the doctor’s appointment?”
“No,” I say. “I just made the appointment with Dr. Harlow this morning, and”—I exhale carefully—“Leo may say he’s going to stick around, but…”
“But what?”
He’s going to leave anyway.
They always do.
So, what’s the point in getting used to him being here?
“But I think I need to do this on my own. At first,” I add before she can convince me otherwise. “Just until I get my head wrapped around things, you know?”
She opens her mouth, but Kailey speaks before she can. “We know,” she says firmly.
Faye nods.
Luna’s quiet for a moment then exhales softly. “Are you sure? One of us could go with you.”
“I’m sure. Thank you for offering. I’m good. But,” I add again when it looks as though she’ll speak, protest heavy in her eyes, “I’ll let you know if I change my mind, okay?”
She presses her lips together.
Then nods. “Okay.”
It’s begrudging, but I press my advantage, offering her up more food and Bri joins in on saving me, talking about the book we read (or didn’t) for the first time tonight.
Faye squeezes my hand and joins in, and Kailey’s right there with her, turning the conversation away from the disaster that’s my life.
God, I appreciate them so much.
I hold tight to that affection as we polish off the food and mocktails (we meaning them, my stomach is still too touchy for anything except a bite or two of bread).
And I hold tight to it as I say goodbye and drive home.
As I crawl into bed and prop my computer on my lap, opening up my inbox, and…
As I click on the message from Leo.
With a signed contract for his girlfriend’s party.
And confirmation that he paid the deposit.
I can’t wait to see you again.
“I know,” I whisper to that hurt little girl inside me. “I know.”
Because I just didn’t think it would be like this.
But I’ll be okay.
Because I always am.