34. Rosie
34
ROSIE
“When can I take this off?” I whine, tugging at the blindfold Daire tied around my head. “Not being able to see is making me car sick.”
“We’re almost there.”
Since we weren’t able to celebrate Valentine’s Day on the actual day, Daire insisted on taking me somewhere this weekend. We dropped Sammy off with Jude and Millie before hitting the road. The idea of leaving Sammy in the care of someone else still sends a wave of anxiety through me. I’m attached to the little guy and don’t like to be without him.
“Where is there?”
Daire sighs, his jeans rasping against the leather. My hearing seems to have magnified now that I’ve lost my sense of sight.
“Have some patience.”
I purse my lips and let out an annoyed huff. My patience evaporated the second he made me wear a blindfold.
His warm hand settles on my knee, giving it a squeeze before he slides it up and settles it on my thigh.
What feels like an hour later, but in reality is probably about ten minutes, the car stops.
I reach to take the blindfold off, but he grabs my hands and stops me.
“Not yet.”
“Daire,” I groan, dropping my head back against the seat.
“Not much longer,” he assures.
I jolt when his lips press against mine.
He hops out of the vehicle, and the back hatch beeps and lifts.
What is he doing?
He’s back there for at least five minutes. Then, finally, the passenger door opens and he reaches over me to undo my seat belt.
He takes both of my hands, probably to keep me from ripping the blindfold off, and guides me out of the car.
When we come to a stop, he says, “All right, now you can take it off.”
Quickly, so he doesn’t have a chance to change his mind, I whip the blindfold off and drop it to the ground.
My jaw drops, and my heart rate kicks up in speed. The outdoor screen is large, spanning a wide-open space. There are no other cars around, only us. I turn to Daire, astonishment making it hard to form words.
Finally, I ask, “How did you do this? How did you even remember?”
He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, when, to me, it means everything. When I was little, I talked about wanting to go to a drive-in all the time. It was a dream of mine. I thought it looked so cool, but my parents never would’ve dreamed of sitting in the car to watch a movie.
“I found the location and set it all up.”
“But aren’t these places usually closed in the winter?”
“Yeah.” He puts his hands into the pouch of his hoodie. “But if you offer enough money, you can get people to do things they wouldn’t normally.”
I shake my head. God, I don’t even want to know how much he spent to make this happen for me.
The thoughtfulness, though?
You can’t put a price on that.
He cuffs my upper arms and slowly turns me. As the van comes into view, I gasp, and I swear my heart floats right out of my body. The cargo area of the minivan is set up like a bed, complete with fluffy blankets and pillows. There’s a basket sitting in the middle too, like he packed a picnic dinner.
I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
It’s single-handedly the kindest thing someone has ever done for me.
I throw my arms around Daire’s neck with so much force he stumbles. Quickly, though, he rights himself and squeezes me tight.
“Thank you,” I murmur into the skin of his neck.
“You’re welcome.”
I step away and crawl into the back of the car, excitement bubbling inside me.
“What did you bring?” I point to the basket.
He opens it up, revealing sandwiches from one of my favorite little shops back home. I stare in wonder. “How did you pull off this?”
“They put it on ice and overnighted it.”
“You… I… I don’t have words.”
He leans in, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “Isn’t it clear by now that I’d do anything for you?”
Tears burn my eyes, threatening to fall. I’m overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness.
With a sniff, I rein in my composure and sit straighter. “What movie are we watching?”
“What movie did you always want to watch at a drive-in?”
I slap a hand to his forearm. “Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging?”
He nods, trying not to laugh at my excitement, if the twitch in his lips is any indication.
When I was a tween, I was certain it was the best movie in history. A young Aaron Taylor-Johnson had a lot to do with why I was such a big fan.
I swallow past the lump in my throat and regard Daire.
I love him. I’ve known that for a while, and he loves me. There’s no doubt. But seeing it like this? In the things he does for me? It’s monumental. The way he went all out for our first Valentine’s Day means the world to me. I would’ve been fine eating pizza on the floor while hanging out with Sammy. But he wanted to give me something I will never forget.
“Are you… fuck, baby, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He pulls me into his arms, knocking the basket over in the process. The opening credits of the movie start, but I bury my face in his hoodie and sniffle.
“Thank you.”
Those two words aren’t anywhere near enough to encompass the gratitude I feel.
This man listened to my ramblings for years and somehow remembered so many small details all these years later.
Finally, I compose myself and settle on my side of the cargo area. As I shift and get comfortable, he eyes me like he’s waiting for me to break down again. When I smile at him, he blows out a relieved breath and hands me a sandwich.
“I have popcorn and drinks too.”
The smile that splits my face is so big my cheeks hurt. “You’ve thought of everything.”
“I tried to.” He picks up his own sandwich and a can of Coke from the basket.
I peer inside and have to suppress a laugh at all the options he brought. There’s even an assortment of movie theater candy. He truly has all the bases covered.
I’m not normally a Coke girly, but suddenly, I crave the sweetness. He fights a grin when he sees what I’ve chosen but doesn’t comment.
Once I’ve got the can in the cupholder beside me, I settle into the pillows and cover up with the blankets. It’s cold out, but thanks to the heat lamps set up outside the car—another impressive detail Daire considered—it’s surprisingly nice.
Daire turns to me and opens his mouth, but I shush him, solely focused on the movie now. The car shakes with his silent laughter. I’m glad my enthusiasm for this great piece of movie history amuses him.
When the movie is over, my eyes are heavy and I’m dangerously close to falling asleep.
Daire, thankfully, doesn’t call me out on it as he opens the passenger door for me.
I grasp his arm and turn to face him full-on. “Tonight…” I start, clearing my throat. “Tonight meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”
He caresses my cheek, and I sink into his touch. “Good. I wanted it to be special.”
He glides his lips over mine in a featherlight touch, leaving me wanting more.
“I don’t know how you’re going to top this.”
He laughs as he steps back and guides me into my seat. “I don’t think I can. But I’ll thoroughly enjoy trying.” He winks, and my stomach somersaults in response.
We drive back toward town, heading to Jude and Millie’s, holding hands the whole way.
I don’t tell him, but teenage Rosie is currently giggling and kicking her feet giddily.
How is this my life?
After class, I’m headed to my car when I spot Bertie ahead of me.
I can’t say she’s flat-out ignoring me, but she’s certainly shifty.
I hurry after her before she can get too far away.
“Hey! Bertie!” I call out as she approaches the entrance to my old dorm.
She turns around, eyes widening like a deer in headlights.
What the hell is going on with her?
Luckily, she doesn’t run away from me.
“Hey,” she replies, voice soft. She clutches a book to her chest and drops her attention to the ground between us. “What’s up?”
“What’s up?” I repeat with a laugh. “Bertie, something’s going on with you, and I’m worried. I’m your best friend. I can sense these things.”
She frowns, biting her lip, and her eyes go glassy like she might cry.
My heart aches at the expression. What the hell could have her so upset?
Exhaling a heavy breath, she grabs my hand and tugs me into the building with her. She won’t meet my eyes on the way up to the room, but I keep my mouth shut, resigned to be patient. When we get inside, she throws her bag down on the table and walks into her room.
I stand in the middle of the living space, scanning each detail.
This was once my home too, but it feels like a stranger’s place now. Like it belongs to a Rosie from an alternate universe.
For a moment, I consider following Bertie, but I don’t want to push too hard, so I wait here.
She comes out a moment later and drops a plastic object onto the coffee table.
It clatters, startling me, and when it stops, my heart drops.
“Look at it,” she gasps, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Bertie.” Her name is a quiet exhale.
“Look at it,” she says again, bottom lip wobbling.
I don’t need to look. I already know what it’s going to say. “You’re pregnant.”
At my words, she bursts into tears.
“Aw, Bertie.” I wrap my arms around my best friend, absorbing her sobs with my shoulder. I guide her to the couch, and she clings to me the whole way, clearly needing to be held. There’s no way I’ll let go until she’s ready.
Eventually her sobs turn into hiccups, and she pulls away to dry her eyes.
“I’m sorry for snotting all over you.” She gives a watery laugh, wiping her face with the cuff of her sleeve.
“Eh.” I wave a dismissive hand. “I’m used to all kinds of things, thanks to Sammy. Snot, pee, poop. I’ve seen it all.”
She inhales a shaky breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m going to have a baby.” For a moment, she’s silent, then she drops her head back and laughs hysterically. “Wow, that’s crazy to say out loud.”
“You’re going to have a baby,” I repeat.
She nods, rubbing her lips back and forth. “I’m going to be a mom.”
“How long have you known?”
She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear with shaky fingers. “About two weeks. I… I didn’t tell you because, at first, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, and then after that, I was scared to say it out loud. The timing… it sucks.” She rubs a hand over her face. “I didn’t plan to become a mom until I was thirty. At least. I hardly feel mature enough to live on my own, let alone be someone’s mom.”
“Who’s the dad? Please tell me you didn’t hook up with Tommy again.”
Bertie laughs, her cheeks pinkening. “It’s Luke.” She clears her throat, wiping her palms on her jeans. “Luke Covey.”
I suck in a sharp breath. Though I can’t say I’m surprised. The chemistry between them has been palpable every time they’re together.
“Does he know?”
With a shake of her head, she stands and heads for the kitchenette. Pulling a ginger ale from the fridge, she unscrews the top and takes a sip. “No, you’re the first to know. I feel like throwing up every time I think about telling him. Frankly, I feel like throwing up without even thinking about it.”
“You’ve been nauseous?”
“You have no idea. I’m living off this,” she holds up the ginger ale, “and saltines. I’ve been living a glamorous life over here.”
“I’m sorry if I pressured you into telling me before you wanted to. I’ve just been worried about you.”
“It’s okay.” She takes another long sip of the soda. “I think I was mostly embarrassed. I swear we used protection, and I’m religious about my birth control, but…” She trails off, shrugging. “This one got through.” She presses a hand to her flat stomach, turning a bit green. “Fuck.” She sets the can down on the counter, nearly knocking it over in her haste, and takes off for the bathroom.
I follow and pull her hair back as she retches. “Oh, Bertie.” I rub her neck.
Once she’s finished, she slowly stands and shuffles to the sink to wash her hands and brush her teeth.
“Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
She shakes her head. “I appreciate it, but I’m exhausted all the time. All I want to do is shower and crawl into bed. Okay?”
I nod, my chest aching for her. “Okay.”
I pull my best friend in for a hug. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” I ask one last time.
“I’m positive, but… I have an appointment tomorrow for an ultrasound.” She wrings her fingers together, nervously biting her lip. “Do you think you could come with me? If you have class, it’s okay—I can go on my own. But?—”
“Text me the information. I’ll be there.”
She lowers her head and sniffles. “Thank you.”
I hate to leave her, especially when she looks like she’s on the verge of tears again, but I want to respect her wishes. And frankly, if I was in her spot, I’d want alone time to process.
“If you need anything before then, call me.”
She squeezes me in a hug. “I will.”
She leads me to the door, and with one more hug, I head out. I don’t have any more classes, so I head home. Daire should already be there with Sammy. We should’ve hired a nanny, but neither of us is ready to trust a stranger with him yet. At least school will be over soon.
I stop at the coffee shop on campus before heading home to my boys. The caffeine is a must if I’m going to finish up my essay for my public health nutrition class.
When I step through the front door, Daire’s in the family room with Sammy asleep on his chest.
He gives me a shy smile like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “He fell asleep, and I didn’t want to move him.”
My chest expands at the sight of them. “I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t either.”
Sammy is snoring lightly, his little mouth open. Beneath his little cheek, there’s a wet spot on Daire’s shirt from the baby’s drool.
I drop my bag onto the floor and take a sip of my coffee. I tell myself I can sit on the couch for five minutes with my boys before I have to get to work on my paper. It’s my last big essay for this class, and I want it to be good.
I tuck my legs under me, getting comfortable. “I ran into Bertie on campus.”
“Oh?” He arches a brow. “Did you get to talk to her?”
I nod, debating about whether I should tell him. “I did.”
“And?”
I bite my lip. I might as well fill him in. It’s not like he’s going to tell anyone. “She’s pregnant.”
His lips parts in surprise. “What?”
“I know. I’m going to go with her to her appointment tomorrow.”
“Is she okay?”
My heart softens at the thoughtfulness behind the simple question. “I think so. Scared, obviously, and she said she’s been really sick, but I think she’s wrapping her head around it.”
“How far along is she?”
“I didn’t ask, but she hasn’t been to the doctor yet, so I don’t think she’s too far.”
“Wow.” He rubs the baby’s back. “I guess Sammy will have a friend to play with.”
That comment takes a modicum of weight off my shoulders. I hadn’t even thought about that. Sammy and Bertie’s baby will be close in age.
I take a couple of sips of my coffee and stand. “I have to go write this paper.”
He brushes his lips over Sammy’s head. “All right. We’ll be right here.”
Upstairs, I settle cross-logged on the bed and log on to my computer. My brain is frazzled, and I’m still processing Bertie’s shocking news, so it takes about a solid ten minutes—and playing classical music—to get in the zone.
Two hours later—because I keep second guessing everything I write and deleting and rewriting it again—my rough draft is finished.
I am nothing if not an overthinker.
And when I check my phone, I find a text from Bertie. Her appointment is scheduled in the middle of one of my classes, but I don’t care in this instance.
My best friend needs me.
It’s pouring rain as I pull up outside the dorm to wait for Bertie. The plan was to meet at the doctor’s office, but there was no way I was letting her take the bus in this weather.
I’ve just put the car in park when she dashes outside, holding the hood of her raincoat firmly to her head so it doesn’t go flying off in the wind.
“This is some kind of weather, huh?” She closes the door behind her. “Not going to lie; I’m glad you’re the one driving.”
I pull away from the dorm, turning down the music.
“How are you feeling?”
“I only threw up twice this morning, so I’m counting it as progress.”
I shoot her a concerned look as I turn onto the main road around the campus. “Is there anything the doctor can give you for it?”
“I don’t think so. It’s just one of those pregnancy things.” She drops her head back against the headrest with a thump. “I’m pregnant.” Her voice shakes around the two words. “There’s a baby inside me.” In my periphery, she puts a hand on her stomach. “God, this is so weird. I’m not going to lie, the idea of feeling it move really freaks me out.”
It freaks me out too, but I keep that to myself. Instead, I say, “I think by that point, you’ll be excited to feel it.”
“I hope so,” she sighs.
I hate seeing my bubbly, vivacious best friend like this. Stressed. Sick. Worried.
With a painted-on smile, I glance her way. “I’m going to spoil this baby silly, just so you know.”
She laughs at that, and I swear some of the weight visibly lifts from her shoulders. She’s not alone in this, and I want her to know it.
“You’ll be the best Auntie, Rosie. At least you’ll be able to give me advice. I’m terrified, and I don’t have the first clue about how to take care of a baby.”
The defeat in her voice breaks my heart. Our situations are different, but many of the feelings are the same. I think she’ll be surprised by how quickly she’ll adapt. Parenting is challenging, for sure, but I find that a lot of the little stuff I was worried about feels insignificant now.
“Yep, and we’ll have playdates with the baby and Sammy. It’s going to be great. And you know I’ll be there for any advice you need.” My priority today is to cheer her up, but I might be laying it on too thick, so I snap my mouth shut.
“Yeah, that’ll be fun,” she says in a detached tone, turning to the window. “How are things with you and Daire?”
As much as I want to help her work through this, I give in and let her change the subject. “Good, really good… they’re…” I rack my brain for the right words. “Real. It’s real.”
She shifts in her seat and gives my wrist a squeeze. “I’m so happy for you.” She’s quiet for a few minutes, watching the scenery passing by.
I remain silent too, unsure of what to talk about if not this situation she’s found herself in.
Eventually she asks, “Do you think you and Daire will have kids?”
I laugh at that, which probably isn’t the best reaction when she’s in the predicament she’s in. “One day. But not now. We have our hands full with Sammy. I can’t imagine another one any time soon.”
“Sammy’s lucky to have you both.”
Emotion clogs my throat. “Thank you.”
It’s hard most days, not only parenting a child, but digesting all he’s lost already. I never knew Danielle, and Daire didn’t know her well either, so at some point, after everything is settled, we’ll have to meet up with her family and learn what we can so that Sammy always knows about his mom.
The whole situation might’ve been fucked, but she doesn’t deserve to be erased from his life. Neither of us would ever dream of doing that.
As we pull into the parking lot of the OBGYN’s office attached to the hospital, a shaky breath flutters out of Bertie’s lips. “I think I’m going to throw up.”
Quickly, I reach for the grocery tote I keep in the back seat and shove it at her.
She opens it, taking a few deep breaths, while I watch her, unsure of how to help.
After a solid minute passes and nothing happens, she nods. “I think it passed.”
“Maybe take the bag with you. Just in case.”
“Yeah.” She folds it up in her lap. “Good idea.”
The office is on the first floor to our left. Bertie signs in while I find a chair in the corner.
“I’ll just wait out here for you, okay?”
She shakes her head vigorously, her eyes going glassy. “I want you to come back with me.”
Trepidation rolls through me, but I want her to be as comfortable as possible. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She rubs at the side of her nose, breathing a rapidly. “Fuck,” she says in a low whisper, knocking the back of her head against the wall behind us lightly. “I’m going to have to tell Luke.”
I clasp my hands in my lap and shift to face her. “When do you think you’ll do it?”
She holds her hands out in front of her, stretching her fingers. “I don’t know, but I can’t put it off forever. He’s… he’s such a good guy. I’ve been avoiding him because I’m so fucking scared. But I can’t be one of those girls who waits until there’s no hiding it before breaking the news or, God forbid, never tells him at all.”
I reach for her hand where she’s begun tapping her fingers against the faux wood armrest.
“Sorry.” She gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m nervous.”
I give her hand a squeeze. “Everything is going to be okay.”
She inhales a long breath, then lets it out slowly. “I hope so.”
My stomach is twisted into knots over it all, so I can’t even begin to imagine how hers feels. But I’m so glad that she’s allowed me to be here. With any luck, she feels at least a modicum of relief having my support.
Like most doctors’ offices, the wait is long, but I follow Bertie back when her name is called.
She has her weight and blood pressure checked before she’s put into a room, and once she’s situated, the nurse asks her a list of questions like the date of her last period.
After she runs through the gambit of questions, the nurse hands Bertie a gown and pee cup, telling her to change in the attached bathroom and to put the cup in the collection basket when she’s finished.
The door closes with a soft click behind the nurse.
Wiggling the cup between her fingers, Bertie says, “Wish me luck. I always struggle with these.”
I give her an awkward thumbs-up and a smile. “You can do it.”
While I wait for her, I check my phone, finding a string of texts from my mom about the wedding.
What kind of cake flavor do I want? Almond? Lemon? Chocolate?
Am I okay inviting Great-Aunt Linda?
What kind of food do I want served? She suggests surf and turf.
I roll my eyes at the questions. What’s the point of asking when she’s probably already ordered the cake and food and invited Great-Aunt Linda, who smells like cheese and mothballs?
I answer anyway, saying I’ll talk to Daire about it. It’s his wedding too.
I’m still trying to wrap my head around a real wedding. Sure, it was one of my stipulations, but now it’s because, somewhere along the way, we fell in love. Playing house is seriously dangerous.
Bertie waddles out of the bathroom, awkwardly holding the back of her gown closed.
“Ugh,” she groans. “The smell in here is killing me.”
“The antiseptic?”
“Yes.” She huffs as she plops herself on the table, the paper rustling as she wiggles and gets herself settled. “It burns my nose and makes me gag.”
I sniff the air, but the room just smells clean to me.
She looks at me, wearing a pleading expression. “Distract me so I don’t get sick.”
“Uh… my mom is driving me nuts with wedding stuff, but I knew that would happen.”
Bertie pales. “Oh my God, I’m going to be ready to pop at your wedding. What if I go into labor at your wedding? What if I’ve already had the baby and my boobs leak and I ruin my dress?”
I hop out of my seat and grab her flailing hands. She’s damn close to hyperventilating.
“Whoa, whoa,” I say, affecting a soothing tone. “Let’s not dwell on that right now. One thing at a time, okay?”
She covers her face with her hands and takes in a shuddering breath. “Easier said than done, Rosie.”
“We’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
She nods distractedly, biting her lip. After a long moment of silence, she says, “My parents are going to disown me. My inheritance is down the drain.” She puts a protective hand over her flat stomach. “But I can’t… this is my baby.”
My heart squeezes in sympathy for her. “Aw, Bertie. No they’re not.”
“Yeah.” She wets her lips, her eyes pooling with tears. “They are. Something like this—a baby out of wedlock and with a man they’ll hardly see as proper? They’ll be furious. It doesn’t matter that he’s been drafted to the NHL. He won’t be good enough in their eyes. You’ve met them. You know how they are.”
I have met them a few times. They’re your typical stuck-up, rich upper-class people. The kind who look down on everyone else. But surely they wouldn’t be so nasty as to disown their daughter.
My thoughts are interrupted by a light knock on the door.
Bertie sends me a panicked look as the door opens and her doctor steps inside.
“Good morning, Beatrice, how have you been?”
“Pregnant,” she blurts.
I slap a hand over my mouth to stifle my laugh at her deadpan answer and shuffle back to the plastic chair against the wall.
Her doctor’s lips twitch, as if she’s holding back a smile. “Yes, that was in the notes. But more specifically, I want to know how you’ve been feeling.”
“Sick,” she says, her tone bland. “All morning. Sometimes all night. Random smells make me vomit. Sometimes just thinking about what I might possibly be able to eat sends me running to the bathroom.”
“Okay.” Her doctor takes notes, nodding along. “Anything else?”
She shrugs. “Other than the throwing up, I’ve felt fine. I’m a little more tired than normal, but it’s also crunch time at school, so that could be contributing to it.”
More nods. More notes.
The doctor asks a few more questions before she says, “All right, Beatrice, lay back and let’s take a look at your baby.”
Bertie’s eyes widen comically, and a gasp escapes her. “Wait, I’m going to get to see the baby today?”
The doctor gives an amused laugh and stands from her stool. “Since you’re not that far along yet, we have to use the internal ultrasound, but yes, you’ll be able to see the baby today.”
Bertie’s eyes dart toward me. They’re swimming with panic, but the smile that creeps up her face is pure excitement, as if she can’t decide how she should feel.
“Do you want me to go?” I ask, straightening in my seat. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.
“I want you to stay. Please.” She reaches out a hand to me, and I go to her, clutching her hand tightly.
“It might be too early to hear a heartbeat,” the doctor says. “I don’t want you to be worried.”
“Why wouldn’t there be a heartbeat?” Bertie’s eyes shoot from me to the doctor and back again.
“Before ten weeks, it’s not detectable, but…” She pauses and looks at Bertie’s chart again. “Was your last period December twenty-seventh, or is that the conception date?”
“Conception.”
“Okay, then you’re about thirteen weeks.”
“Thirteen weeks!” She blurts. “But that wasn’t thirteen weeks ago.”
The doctor gives a soft laugh. “I know it sounds weird, but we count the weeks from your last period, so basically, we add two weeks.”
“Oh.” Bertie’s cheeks turn a bright shade of red. “I didn’t know that.”
The doctor smiles kindly. “Lots of women don’t. Don’t feel bad. If you’re ready, go on and lie back. Feet in the stirrups.”
Bertie lies back, positioning her feet. Her eyes widen in panic at the sight of the internal wand as the doctor holds it up and explains how it works. Even I’m surprised by the size of the thing.
“A little pressure,” the doctor warns, lifting the sheet covering Bertie up to her knees.
Bertie scrunches her nose, squeezing her eyes shut, as the doctor lowers the wand.
A moment later, a black and white image appears on the screen. Bertie slaps her hand over her mouth, stifling a sob. “That’s a baby. There’s a baby inside me. I didn’t think it would look like one yet.”
It’s small, but she’s right. It’s distinctively baby-shaped already.
The doctor pushes a button, and a moment later, the sound of a heartbeat fills the room.
Tears stream down Bertie’s face. “That’s my baby,” she says to me, clutching my hand. “Do you hear it? It sounds strong.”
After the doctor takes measurements, pointing body parts out as she goes, she gives Bertie a string of photos. Once Bertie is sitting up again, the doctor goes over a list of things with her, like foods that are off limits and prenatal vitamins she’ll need to take.
By the end of it, Bertie’s shoulders are slumped with exhaustion, but her eyes are brighter than before. She keeps looking down at the ultrasounds and smiling.
When we finally get back to the car, I ask her, “Are you hungry at all?”
“Not really.” She bites her lip. “But I actually think a milkshake would be good.”
“Hey, whatever you want, you get.”
“Man, I would have gotten pregnant a long time ago if I had known I could get princess treatment.”
I laugh at her joke, navigating out onto the winding road that leads from the hospital parking lot to the main intersection.
“How are you feeling now?”
She cracks the window a bit, letting in fresh air. “Shockingly, I feel better, but I’m still scared. Being a mom? That’s a huge deal. I’m going to have a child to take care of—to try to raise into a good, decent human being. What if I suck at it?”
My chest gets tight at the concern in her voice. “You’re not going to suck at it.”
“How do you know?” she counters, folding up the ultrasound photos to put in her purse. She hesitates with her hand on the zipper, then chooses to keep holding them instead.
“Because I know you. You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. This kid is going to be lucky to have you as a mom.”
She’s quiet for a solid twenty seconds before she utters a quiet “thank you.”
I pull up outside the shake place, half-expecting her to have changed her mind, but as soon as I parallel park, she’s hopping out of the car with much more zest than she had before.
The rain stopped while we were in the doctors’ office, but the sidewalk is still covered with puddles that we dodge on our way to the entrance.
The Shake Palace has been a favorite of ours since freshman year. With everything that’s happened since the school year began, we haven’t been even once. My stomach sinks at the realization. Who knows where we’ll end up from here and whether we’ll have any more opportunities to do all the things we’ve always loved before graduation. Daire and I haven’t talked about it, but now with Danielle gone, there’s no reason we can’t leave Tennessee. And Bertie? She has a lot to work out now. Eventually, she’ll have to break the news to Luke, and he’s already been drafted by the NHL.
Bertie steps up to the counter and orders her usual butterscotch milkshake.
I used to make fun of her for the old lady flavor, but that stopped when she forced me to try it.
It was phenomenal—enough so that after that day, I stopped ordering cookies ’n’ cream and copied her instead.
“Butterscotch for me too,” I tell the girl behind the counter.
I tap my card to pay, practically shoving Bertie out of the way to beat her to it.
“Bitch.”
I bump her hip lightly with mine. “I wanted it to be my treat.”
“Yeah, but you missed class to drive me.”
With a shrug, I stick my wallet back into my purse. “This is your day.”
She gives me a playful shove. “Next time, it’s on me. No arguing.”
“Sure thing.”
When our shakes are up, we sit at our usual booth in the corner.
I almost don’t want to ask her, but I’m curious, so I go for it. “Are you feeling any better?”
She stirs her shake with her straw, mixing in the whipped cream. “Yeah, I am, actually. I feel… still scared. But seeing it? That’s my baby, Rosie. My little boy or girl. So yeah, I’m terrified, but I’m excited now too.”
A weight drops off my shoulders at that admission. I hate that she’s been dealing with this alone for the last couple of weeks.
Reaching across the table, I give her hand a small squeeze. “I’m going to be there for you. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you.” The smile she gives me is small, but there’s a bit of happiness in it that’s been missing all day.
It’s going to be hard not to spoil her kid. I already go overboard with Sammy.
“I think…” She pauses, stirring her shake again, her focus set on the movement. “If you don’t mind, before you drop me off, could we go to Target or somewhere and look at baby clothes?”
“Yes!” I blurt way too enthusiastically.
Shopping for baby clothes has become an addiction. I absolutely wouldn’t mind picking up a few things for Sammy while we’re there. And it seems like we always need diapers and formula, so it’ll save us a trip later this week.
“I’m glad I have you,” Bertie says, pulling me from my thoughts of all things baby.
“Don’t you dare make me cry,” I warn her, sniffing to alleviate the tingling in my nose.
She smiles, taking a sip of her shake. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Both our lives have changed drastically this year, but the one thing that hasn’t is the way we have each other’s back.