Eleven
ALLISON
S everal hours after her OB-GYN appointment, Allison sat at a cozy window table in The Pink Paradise once more.
Nerves bubbled up inside her as she imagined everything that could go wrong with this little reunion. Amira would be furious, and there Allison would be, standing like a deer caught in headlights, bracing for the inevitable storm. She could almost hear Amira howling at her, and honestly, she couldn’t blame her. If the roles were reversed, Allison would probably unleash a full symphony of rage too.
I’ll sit there, sniffling and blubbering like a sad puppy, because, well, that’s just me.
And when she finally storms off, I’ll be left in the ruins of my shattered dreams—hopes for a rekindled friendship scattered like confetti.
It’s like watching a rom-com where you’re the punchline in every joke!
Allison huffed a small laugh at her own thoughts. She was being ridiculous, letting her panic rear its ugly, distorted head again. It had been a companion of hers for years—ever since childhood, really—back when she couldn’t even recognize the signs. There were times in her life when she struggled to distinguish her own thoughts from the relentless chatter of anxiety.
She had gone to therapy in high school when the pressure of studying became overwhelming and triggered panic attacks. Her brothers had supported her through it all, each in his own unique way, and somehow, she had made it through. Now, she was armed with knowledge: she understood what coping mechanisms were, how poisonous notions could wreak havoc on her brain, and what her triggers looked like.
She even knew how to halt the downward spiral, though she didn’t always succeed. What she needed were distractions—something positive to counter the relentless negativity swirling in her mind.
And in that moment, as she waited for Amira, with Seattle’s setting sun casting a warm glow on everything cold around her, Allison found just one thing capable of melting away her nervousness.
Her baby’s picture.
Seeing the tiny shape of her little angel instantly brought a smile to her lips. She held it close, feeling the familiar flutter of hope that had been overshadowed by anxiety, reminding herself that this moment was about connection, love, and maybe even a little forgiveness.
Allison’s head snapped up as the bell chimed, signifying that the door had opened. She held her breath in a mix of fear and hope, praying it would be Amira stepping through. But as the figure came into view, her heart sank; it wasn’t her.
She put the small picture away, tucking it back into its rightful place in her wallet, just as her phone pinged with a notification. Hurriedly, with her heart in her throat, Allison unlocked it to see—
A text from my baby daddy. I so didn’t need this right now.
The last thing Allison wanted was to deal with Angelo drama while waiting for her friend. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever message awaited her, hoping it wouldn’t add to her already fraying nerves.
Angelo
Allison.
Hello.
Allison nearly snorted out loud as she read the messages.
Wow, the man is a dry texter .
It was a masterpiece of brevity—just a few words that somehow managed to sound both indifferent and demanding at the same time. She could practically hear his monotone voice in her head, and it made her chuckle despite the circumstances. She couldn’t help but wonder if he thought sending a text like that was casual.
Allison
Hey. What’s up?
This time, Allison did snort. Compared to Angelo’s version of business casual, her response felt like a party invitation. The only thing missing was a “bro” at the end to really seal the deal. It was laughable how their texting styles clashed. His formal tone could put anyone to sleep, while she preferred keeping it light and easygoing. She couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking her head as she waited for his reply.
Angelo
How are you?
Allison
Fine?
Angelo
You don’t know how you are?
Allison
Of course I know how I am!
Angelo
Then how are you?
Allison
I said I’m fine!
Angelo
You posed it as a question!
Allison
Because your question was weird!
Angelo
What’s weird about asking how you are?!
Allison
What’s weird about saying I’m fine?!
Allison couldn’t help but roll her eyes as the back-and-forth unfolded. She imagined Angelo sitting in his office, furrowing his brow over the existential implications of her “fine.”
Angelo
Details, Allison. I need fucking details.
Allison
Which means…?
She could practically hear the exasperated sigh he must’ve let out at her lack of cooperation.
Angelo
Are you nauseous?
Allison
Yes.
Angelo
How bad? On a scale of 1 to ‘can’t leave the toilet bowl’?
Allison chuckled, certain she looked like a lunatic laughing by herself in the café.
Allison
A healthy 4
Angelo
Shit. Do you need me?
Get your head out of the gutter, Ali.
Allison
No.
Angelo
I’m serious, Allison. I’ll be there in five if you need me.
Just give me an address, and I’m there.
Allison’s heart skipped a beat at his grandiose show of protectiveness. She appreciated his willingness, but sometimes a girl just needed a moment to breathe—and maybe a muffin. She still hadn’t touched her cup of hot chocolate—which she bought only because she needed to cut down on the coffee—but she planned on attacking her chocolate chip banana muffin very soon. In her mind, a muffin was the perfect companion for any drink, enhancing the flavors and bringing a sense of comfort.
Her buzzing phone broke her out of her hungry thoughts. It appeared Angelo had assumed her extended silence—which barely lasted a minute—meant she was nose-deep in the toilet bowl.
Ew. Bad imagery.
Angelo
Address, sweet girl.
Allison?
Are you vomiting right now?!
Allison, I swear to God and all that is holy, if you don’t send me an address right now, I’ll contact my personal investigators and track you down myself.
Allison couldn’t help but laugh at his escalating panic. She imagined him pacing back and forth, ready to launch a full-scale rescue operation, complete with drones and a search party. It was endearing and honestly ridiculous. She typed out several texts before settling on the least sarcastic one.
Allison
I’m fine! Seriously! No need for the dramatic rescue.
And why do you have private investigators?
Angelo
What the fuck were you doing then if you’re fine?!
She took a sip of her hot chocolate, feeling a mix of affection and exasperation. She appreciated the concern, and she would be lying if she said his caveman-like behavior wasn’t hot, but he needed to tone it down a bit.
They weren’t dating. They were just going to be co-parenting in a few months.
Several deep breaths and a muffin bite later, Allison found the perfect way to shut down his erratic texting.
Allison
I’m on a date, Angelo. I’m busy. I’ll text you later.
She felt a smirk of satisfaction as she hit send, but her plan backfired when her phone buzzed with a call from the man himself.
Damn it.
Allison stared at the screen, debating whether to pick up or let it go to voicemail. She could practically hear his voice in her head, filled with a mix of confusion and concern. Instead of the sweet girl he knew, she had suddenly transformed into a woman with a date—one who he would definitely want to track down.
She didn’t get the chance to pick up as the bell chimed once more, and she spotted Amira making her fashionable entrance. Her friend swept into the café with the kind of confidence that turned heads, her designer bag swinging at her side and a bright smile lighting up her face. Allison felt a rush of apprehension mixed with excitement; was that smile for her or would it drop as soon as Amira spotted her?
Allison quickly tucked her phone away, trying to shake off the lingering tension. Her silent question was answered immediately.
“Allison! Hey!” Amira said excitedly, rushing over to Allison’s side. She greeted her as if nothing had changed between them. First, there was a warm hug, followed by a kiss on each cheek—because Amira was that kind of girl.
Allison didn’t feel quite as confident when she hugged her back. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and doubts ever since they’d arranged this meeting. She felt way too nervous for kisses on the cheek, and the familiar feeling of anxiety crept back in as she struggled to shake off the overwhelming uncertainty. Amira’s enthusiasm only made her feel more out of place, as if she was about to dive into a conversation that could either heal old wounds or open up fresh ones.
“Hey, Amira,” she said quietly.
“I’m going to order a coffee and I’ll be right back, okay? We have catching up to do, Soniye ,” Amira said, using the nickname that brought back a flood of memories. She left her taupe coat on the chair opposite Allison’s seat and walked off towards the counter.
Her phone buzz buzz buzzed away, and she removed it from that mode, making it go finally silent.
As she watched Amira place her order, Allison couldn’t help but notice how they were practically dressed in twin outfits—both in baby pink sweaters and tan dress pants. The only difference in their styles was the edginess, as per usual.
Allison had always preferred the sweet vibes. She liked to think of her style as cotton candy—sweet, soft, fluffy, and pastel. Amira, on the other hand, had always gravitated toward sexier clothes: low-cut tops, cropped styles, form-fitting pants, and heeled boots. She piled on the jewelry, often sporting multiple statement pieces, and her bags were just as eye-catching. Her long black bob framed her face perfectly, enhancing her striking look.
Amira was half Indian and half British, which meant she had the most gorgeous skin and the most delicious accent Allison had ever heard—second only to Angelo’s.
Her friend has been raised in London half her life before moving to the US, so she wasn’t very much in touch with her Indian heritage. Her mother, however, had taught her a few Hindi words, and ever since they met, Amira had taken to calling her “ Soniye .” It meant beautiful.
A couple of minutes later, Amira returned with her usual order—a bone dry cappuccino and a flaky croissant. She sat across from Allison and just stared, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and warmth.
That was it. For a few minutes, they both just stared at each other, the silence stretching between them, unsure how to continue. The familiarity they’d shared when Amira first walked in had vanished.
And I thought the whole thing with Angelo this morning was awkward.
They both inhaled at the same time, freezing mid-breath, staring at each other as if they were waiting for the other to break the tension.
“I’m sorry,” Amira started, startling Allison.
What in the name of all that is cute and pink is she apologizing for?
“I let you down. You have been busting your ass at work, and instead of being understanding, I just demanded more from you when I knew exactly how much of an ass your father is.” Amira held her coffee cup with two ring-adorned hands, her gaze fixed on the table.
It was probably better this way, because if she glanced up, she would have seen Allison’s mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, utterly bewildered by this unexpected apology.
“Ami… you don’t have anything to apologize for. I’m the bad friend here. I was too busy to even look at my phone and text you, never mind talking. I’m sorry for everything.” Allison felt the tears gathering in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall.
“It’s okay, Ali. I forgave you a long time ago,” Amira said with a small smile on her dark-painted lips. But then her expression shifted as she asked, “Do you forgive me?”
Allison watched as Amira’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of vulnerability.
“There’s nothing to forgive. You’re my best friend,” Allison reassured her.
Amira’s hand reached across the table, offering a comforting gesture with an encouraging smile. Allison hesitated, unable to believe her best friend had simply forgiven her that easily. Just as doubt threatened to swallow her, Amira grabbed her hand, grounding her in the moment and reminding her of the bond they shared.
Amira wiped tiny tears off her face, her darker skin glowing once more.
She was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful girls Allison had ever seen.
During their college days, when they’d lived together, she had seen Amira in her underwear so many times she’d lost count. And she’d been amazed each and every time. Who wouldn’t? Dark, blemish free skin—smoother than butter, supple breasts and a perky ass with thick legs and the walk of a model.
Of course, all these years later, Allison had grown out of her silly little crush, but she still looked back on those days fondly. Because that was when she discovered that she actually didn’t care about gender. She cared about beauty and kindness and cleverness and Amira had all those traits and many more.
And so does Angelo, damn him.
He can go fuck himself freely with his sexy arms and his carved body and—
Ah, great. Now I’m imagining Angelo jerking off.
“So, time for some catching up, girl. What’s new with you?” Amira asked. Allison was grateful for her best friend’s ability to change topics faster than she could say ‘Prada’.
Allison cleared her throat, glancing down at her hot chocolate, before deciding to just rip off the band-aid. “I’m pregnant.”
Complete silence followed her statement, and for a moment, Allison thought she heard crickets chirping somewhere in the distance. When it became clear that her friend was in shock, she pressed on.
“I was very drunk, we didn’t check for condoms, and now… well, I had my first ultrasound this morning, and I’m ten weeks pregnant.”
Amira looked positively constipated, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.
“Surprise?”
“I’m sorry, I must have heard you wrong. Did you just say that Allison Pink Lockwood, my chronically celibate best friend, had a one-night stand with a stranger and got pregnant?” Amira was dangerously close yelling by the end of her question, and Allison held back a wince, nodding in affirmation.
Amira burst out laughing. And not the pretty laugh—no, this was the obnoxious, almost dangerous kind, the sort that had her slapping her knees until they bruised. Patrons looked their way, possibly wondering what could be so funny that it made the woman beat herself so fiercely.
Allison didn’t know whether to be offended or to join in on the fun, though she had to admit it was laughable how things had unfolded.
Here she was, a woman who had spent years avoiding romantic entanglements, suddenly pregnant from a drunken night with a stranger. It was absurd, really, and as she watched Amira’s contagious laughter, she felt her own lips twitching into a grin.
“Are you serious?” Amira exclaimed once she finally managed to calm down, her excitement palpable.
There were no traces of judgment in her voice or on her face. Allison nodded once more, and her friend squealed, drawing everyone’s attention without a care in the world. In an instant, Amira rushed around the table to envelop Allison in one of her warm, tight hugs.
“I’m so happy for you, Soniye ,” she whispered in Allison’s ear and a rush of joy washed over her, bringing tears to her eyes.
“Thank you.”
In that moment, all her worries faded away, replaced by the warmth of Amira’s enthusiasm and the knowledge that they would navigate this journey together.
This is how someone is supposed to react when a loved one is pregnant—celebration, support, and unreserved happiness.
Take notes dad.
“Do you remember who the lucky guy is?” Amira winked as she sat back down, a playful glint in her eye.
Allison felt her cheeks flush, mentally preparing herself for the awkwardness that would no doubt follow her revelation. She cleared her throat nervously, glancing around the café before locking eyes with her friend.
“Do you know Angelo Taylor?” Allison asked, knowing the answer already.
Amira owned her own fashion business and was one of the top designers in Washington, having dressed nearly every celebrity on the West Coast. To stay ahead of the curve, she constantly kept up with the tabloids, always on the lookout for the next hot celebrity to collaborate with.
“Of course! I read a couple of articles about him taking over his… No!” Amira responded, her face dramatically morphing into a picture of sheer terror.
Allison nodded once. “Yup,” she merely said.
“Ali! Oh my God! He’s one of the youngest billionaires in the U.S., not to mention he’s absolutely gorgeous! And you fucked him and got pregnant with his child?” Amira whistled appreciatively, as if imagining what their night together might have looked like.
Allison couldn’t help but chuckle at Amira’s dramatic reaction, but she quickly sobered up, realizing the weight of the situation. “I know, I know. It’s a lot to unpack.”
“ A lot? It’s like opening a can of worms that’s been sitting in a sunlit kitchen for a month!” Amira exclaimed, her hands flying up in exasperation.
Allison felt an intense bout of nausea, bile almost climbing up her throat at the mental picture her friend painted. The thought of a sunlit kitchen filled with rotting worms was enough to make her stomach turn, and she quickly shook her head, trying to clear the image from her mind.
“Thanks for that vivid imagery, Ami,” she muttered, her voice tinged with amusement despite the queasiness.
“Sorry! But seriously, this is huge!” Amira leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and concern. “What are you going to do? How do you feel about it?”
Allison considered the question for a moment. How did she feel about this?
She felt uncomfortable that the fun night they had over two months ago had carelessly led to a pregnancy. But deep down, she was also in love with her baby and excited to meet her little angel in less than seven months.
In light of recent events, including Angelo’s worried texts—no matter how excessive or ridiculous—she now felt confident she would have the support she needed for the journey ahead. With that realization, Allison made up her mind.
“I feel good, actually. Like I can really do this. And I know Angelo will be right there with me,” she responded, a soft smile spreading across her lips. It was a strange blend of uncertainty and excitement, but it felt right.
I hope my little brain isn’t being delusional.
“Wait, wait, you’ve talked to him?” Amira seemed to be in a state of shock now, her previous excitement still lingering beneath the surface as she literally buzzed in her seat.
“What kind of silent sex are you having, woman?” Allison teased her friend, even though she knew that wasn’t what she meant.
“Oh, just spill! Come on, I need details!”
Allison huffed, trying to figure out how she was going to phrase this. She really didn’t want to fess up to everything that had occurred between them, because she knew it didn’t mean anything.
Yes, they’d talked, yes, there had been a connection, and yes , she had climbed on top of him and clung to his form like a koala hours ago, but the reality of their situation felt more complicated than that.
“Okay, we’ve talked a bit, but it’s… complicated,” she finally admitted, gauging Amira’s eager expression. “We’re just figuring things out, you know? It’s not like we’re planning a wedding or anything.”
Amira leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Yet! You’re not planning a wedding yet! ”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, Amira. I barely know the man.”
Amira scoffed, making her favorite sound. She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, the very picture of aggressive beauty. “Right. Well, when you’re married in less than a year, I’m going to be your maid of honor.”
“Naturally.”
“And design your dress.”
“Of course.”
“And plan your bachelorette party at a strip club.”
“That might be taking it too far.”
They both burst into laughter, the tension easing as they played along with the fantasy.
As their amusement died down, Amira leaned in towards her across the table. “Okay, now I need to know. How was he?”
Allison blushed at the memory of that night, and the details she was about to spill to her best friend.
“So good, Ami. He fucked me for hours , and it was phenomenal. He held me up, he took me on the floor, he ate me out. I have never come so many times in one night,” Allison whispered, glancing left and right as if someone had heard her describing the wildest night of sex she’d ever had.
Amira dramatically fanned her face, pretending she was getting hot and bothered from Allison’s description.
“Damn! I knew it was gonna be hot, but my, oh my!” Her friend stopped her fake fanning and winked at Allison, her excitement palpable.
Amira caught Allison’s hand forcefully and held it up, pretending to high-five before she broke into a cheer.
Literally cheered.
Like an actual schoolgirl whose best friend had just talked to her crush. “Woo! Go, Allison! Look at you making conquests!”
Allison couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head at her friend’s enthusiasm. “You’re ridiculous!”
“I’m just supportive! This is a big deal!” Amira replied, still grinning like the Cheshire cat.
A sudden thought crossed Allison’s mind and her excitement gave way to worry, her smile dropping.
“Do you—” she started, but hesitated, her heart racing. What if Amira said no?
No. This is us. There’s no way she’ll say no.
Allison cleared her throat and began again, her voice soft. “Do you want to see the baby?”
Amira froze, staring into Allison’s eyes, and suddenly, Allison had second thoughts. The leftover excitement in the air shifted to a heavy uncertainty. What if Amira wasn’t ready for this, or what if the reality of it all made things too real too soon?
After what felt like an eternity, Amira’s expression softened, and her eyes sparkled with an emotion that told Allison everything she needed to know. “Absolutely,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I would love to.”
Allison’s hand trembled as she fished for her wallet in her handbag. Her nerves only worsened when she slid the picture out of its slot and held it out to Amira, her heart racing with anticipation.
But Amira’s hand was steady, as it always was between them. Allison had panic attacks, while Amira took the world by storm. If she were being honest, Allison had always been a bit jealous of her best friend for that unwavering confidence. Yet she loved her all the more for it.
“Oh my…” Amira whispered, her eyes widening as she stared at the tiny picture. She raised a hand to her mouth, her voice barely audible, filled with awe. “This is… so precious.”
Allison saw a tear fall down Amira’s face, and her own eyes grew misty in response. She’d missed this—having her best friend next to her, talking to her about anything and everything. She’d missed Amira deeply, and she realized she’d been longing for this reconnection more than anything.
She’d been the one person Allison had wanted to tell more than anyone in the world.
Besides my mom.
That thought lingered in her mind for only a moment before Allison cast it from her mind. Now wasn’t the time.
“I know it’s not much; it only looks like a tiny bean right now, but—”
“Shut your mouth about my godchild, Ali.” Amira interrupted, her tone half-serious, half-teasing, as she swiped the picture closer to her face.
Allison couldn’t help but laugh through her tears. “Okay, okay! But it really does look like a tiny bean!”
“An adorable, precious bean!” Amira shot back, her voice filled with warmth and protectiveness. “But wait,” she continued, making Allison tense up. “You still haven’t told me the most important detail.”
Allison held her breath, waiting for Amira to continue, but the little drama queen didn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds too many.
“When is the due date? Because I need to prepare myself for my godchild’s star sign.”
Allison rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Ami?! Don’t do that to me! Pregnant woman here; my hormones are all over the place right now, and you had me worried sick that something bad was happening,” she huffed like an angry dragon. “It’s June 18th.”
“Ooh, a Gemini? Hell yeah, babe! I knew I could count on you!” Amira exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight.
Allison couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the warmth of their friendship wrap around her like a cozy blanket.
I knew I could count on you, too, Ami.