Chapter fifteen
CAMILA
As soon as we entered the room, Evy left her bag with her clothes on the table next to the bed and I asked, “Is it really okay for you to spend the night here, bestie?”
“More than okay.”
“Is Peter cool with it?”
She sighed, making it clear that things weren’t exactly okay.
To be honest, I had never really liked Peter, her boyfriend. However, I had no solid reason to confess this to her. There was something about his manner that bothered me, but she loved him and, apparently, he had always treated her well. And that was why I preferred to keep my opinion to myself.
“We exchanged a night voucher tonight,” she declared.
“Wow, and you're going to use it to stay holed up here at home eating pizza and putting up with me crying?”
“Fair enough. Peter is using his on a video game night with his brother. Adulthood kind of changes our notions of 'night out'. Oh, but my mom can't know that I came to the building and spent the night with you instead of her.”
“You should sleep at your parents' apartment, then.”
“Are you crazy? My mother only meets with me to demand grandchildren from me. It's always an unbearable session of 'Nora Williams' daughter is pregnant, did you hear?'”
Another advantage of Evy 's visits was that she always kept me updated on the gossip, even if it was about people who lived in my own building.
“Is Mrs. Williams' daughter pregnant again?”
“Yes. For the fourth time. In my mother's estimation, Nora Williams is the happiest woman in the world , with her house full of grandchildren.”
I sat down on the bed and Waffle jumped on me, snuggling into my lap.
“At least my grandmother doesn't make that kind of demand on me. I think she already understood that the closest she'll get to grandchildren is Waffle.”
“Lucky you. I think that even if I adopt about fifty cats, my mother will still demand human grandchildren from me.” Evelyn fell silent, seeming to think about something.
Then, she sat down next to me. “Girl, speaking of children.
.. I know you don't remember much, but... how can I tell you without freaking out?”
“Tell me what? For the love of God, Evy, look what my life has become in the last few days. Nothing else in the world can make me freak out.”
“Okay, then.” She took a deep breath, as if she needed to gather courage for what she wanted to ask. “Do you happen to remember if you and Michael Turner...” Another pause. This was starting to make me impatient.
“If we what?”
“If you... used a condom?”
It still took me a few seconds to process that question and connect it with the 'speaking of children' that started it. When that happened, my mind felt like it had been thrown into a blender, spinning a thousand times a second.
I stood up so suddenly that I scared poor Waffle, who jumped and ended up on the other side of the room.
“Do… do… do you… do you think… you think that…” I began to stutter, feeling a true sense of panic just trying to form the question in my mind. “Do you think I might be pregnant ?”
“If you are in your fertile period and you had unprotected sex, there is a big chance, girl.”
"No... I can’t. I can’t have lost my virginity, gotten ‘engaged,’ and ended up pregnant after one drunken night."
And here I was thinking that party was open bar. Turned out to be the most expensive hangover of my life!
“Calm down, bestie. You must’ve remembered to use a condom.”
“I don't even remember how I ended up in that room, Evy. I didn't think for half a second before going to bed with that man, do you think I remembered condoms?”
“Okay... but he's a guy who must be more than used to it, he must always carry a condom. I'm sure he remembered, don't worry.”
I sat back down, lowering my head and placing my hands on my forehead.
“This can't be happening to me, Evy. It sounds like a huge nightmare.”
My friend came closer, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Don't worry, girl. We'll go to a pharmacy tomorrow, buy a quick test and get this question answered.”
“And what will happen if it tests positive, Evy?”
“Well... To begin with, I'm going to have to hear from my mother that even Camila is going to have a child, and I'm not.”
“What do you mean 'even Camila'?” I knew that was far from the important issue at the moment, but I couldn't avoid the question.
"Girl, you made it to twenty-four — almost twenty-five — a virgin and without any boyfriends, you know that."
“I’ve had boyfriends.”
“Your longest relationship lasted two months.”
“He was distracting me, and I needed to study.”
“It's the kind of argument I use with my fifteen-year-old students when their grades start to suffer because of dating. And they don't pay me any attention.”
“Yes, but my teachers never had to tell me that kind of thing. I always knew that I wanted to study hard, become an architect like my father, help my grandmother grow her bookstore and make her very proud.”
“You didn't need so much for that last part. Mrs. Jenna is very proud of you.”
“That's because she doesn't know that I'm lying about being in love with my boss, or that I slept with him without even knowing him, while completely drunk, and that I'm still at risk of being pregnant or... I don't know, having some STI.”
“Okay, except for that last part... That's why you're lying. You're going to get the money to expand the bookstore. And besides, you're not doing anything bad, after all. You're helping someone. A father getting custody of his daughter.”
“And how do I know if this is the right thing to do, Evy?
The child's grandparents are right in their argument.
Michael Turner is a party animal, a womanizer, irresponsible.
.. he only took over the company because of this case.
Before that, one of his brothers was the CEO.
He was nothing more than a useless twenty-eight-year-old playboy who was always getting into trouble for drunk driving, causing trouble, and attending illegal parties.
Can you believe he didn't even finish college? He dropped out in his senior year.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
“Did he tell you all of this?”
“I work at his company; I've known his reputation since I started there.”
“That part is fine, but you even know his exact age how far he went at college.”
“He's famous, you know that. Son of actress Trinity Turner and a renowned architect.”
“ I know. But you 've never been interested in celebrity gossip.”
“Maybe I googled him. And looked at his Instagram. Just to get some basic information, nothing major.”
“I bet you even know his zodiac sign or if he has any pets.”
"Don’t exaggerate." Waffle jumped back onto my lap, and I focused on stroking his white fur, trying to play it cool.
But it didn't work for my friend.
“Cami?”
“What?”
“What is Michael Turner's zodiac sign?”
What a stupid question!
“Aries?” despite the interrogative tone, it wasn't a question, but rather a statement.
“And does he have any pets?”
“He mentioned in passing that he had a dog. And I happened to see from the photos on Instagram that it’s a Siberian Husky. And I read somewhere that his name is Apollo.”
“I knew it!” she practically screamed, scaring me and my cat too. “You stalked your boss!”
“I did not stalk him. Again, I simply researched some basic information. I needed to do this before accepting the deal so I would know what kind of person I was getting involved with.”
“And did you really do it only after the proposal? Or was it after you had woken up beside him?”
“Maybe a little on each occasion. But there's nothing wrong with that.”
“Are you sure, Cami? Really?”
“Of course, there’s nothing about it. Now enough of that subject, because you said you would come here so I could try to forget about Michael Turner for a bit. Are we going to watch movies or not?”
“You're the boss. I'll just order our pizza.”
She took out her cell phone, starting to use the delivery app, while I focused my mind on trying to convince myself of my own words.
My curiosity about Michael Turner was solely and exclusively due to our agreement. And it hadn't even been that deep. I had simply focused on finding out and memorizing the information that was truly relevant about him, for dinner with our families. That was it.
“Hey, Cami...” Evy called me, still staring at her cell phone screen. “Does Michael Turner like pizza?”
“As long as it’s not pepperoni,” my answer came out automatically.
She looked away from her phone to look at me, biting her lips in a futile attempt to contain a laugh.
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her, even though I wanted to hit myself.
Perhaps my curiosity about Michael Turner was a little, just a little, beyond what was strictly necessary.