Chapter 40
AMARA
Even though I wasn’t banking much on it, Electra’s rain check comes two days later.
ELECTRA: Feel like Thai tomorrow? My treat.
I can barely hold back a grin.
AMARA: Only if you toss in that virgin marg you owe me.
When I get there the next day, Electra’s already waiting outside.
“Is it just me or am I getting a déjà-vu?” I smirk as I tug my purse off my arm.
“Oh, shut up and sit down,” Electra says, and I laugh, taking a seat in the chair opposite of her on the patio of the Thai restaurant. Yes, it’s the same one we were at for our double date from hell. “It’s a miracle I’m here at all, so you should be grateful.”
That remark would usually be brimmed with a joking tone, but it’s not. Unease twists my gut at that. The fact that Electra doesn’t seem free to go out whenever she wants anymore—it’s way past a red flag now. We’re talking loud, blaring sirens.
Still, I try to keep the mood up. Like she said, it’s a miracle at all that Sean loosened the leash enough that he let her come to lunch with me.
“At least this time Ransome won’t show up and whisk me away into an alley,” I joke, but Electra doesn’t so much as crack a smile. Instead, she browses the menu as if she doesn’t know it by heart. (We both love Thai food, and this place has always been one of our go-tos since forever.)
“I think I’m going to get a salad,” she says.
Okay. Now I’m really concerned.
“A salad?” I echo. “At a Thai place?”
Electra’s eyes flicker up to mine. “Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“You never order a salad. You always get the pad Thai or the drunken noodles or—”
“Well, today I want a salad,” she cuts me off. “God knows I need it.”
Hmm. Don’t like that either.
But I keep quiet about it. Electra seems on edge as it is. “How’s work?” I ask.
She sets the menu down and squeezes a lemon into her water. “I quit.”
“You quit?” I echo. “But you’ve worked at Dr. Blakney’s office for years. You’re the most hyped-up dental hygienist I know.”
“Yeah, well, I might be too hyped-up,” she says, stirring her water. Another weird sign. Electra never looks at the food menu until she’s ordered a drink, no matter what time of day it is.
“What do you mean?” I ask, but I’m cut off by the waiter arriving.
We order our food—curry chicken for me, a sad salad for her—before Electra reluctantly goes on.
“Sean wasn’t a fan of me working there.”
An eyebrow involuntarily arches. “At a dentist’s office?”
“I guess he feels it’s too… personable. Since half the patients are men.”
“You have to be joking,” I say with a laugh. “I’m sorry. But he can’t be serious. You’re cleaning their teeth, not giving them a sack assessment. Jesus.”
I shake my head, but as per the new usual, Electra is refusing to look at me. In fact, she’s looking everywhere but at me.
“Okay… intervention.”
That gets her attention.
“What do you mean?” she asks defensively.
“What’s going on with this Sean guy?” I ask.
“Nothing. He’s just… a little protective.”
“A little? Electra, you’re never allowed to hang out any more. You’re constantly on your phone. You’re not acting like yourself at all. You don’t dress the way you used to. You’re looking over your shoulder like you’re being watched. This behavior isn’t protective, it’s controlling.”
“Again, can you really lecture me on this?” she snaps, and I knew it was coming. But it’s okay. I have ammo for it.
“Ransome is territorial because he knows a lot of people who aren’t great people, and he’s actually trying to protect me. But I’m not afraid of him. You seem afraid.” My tone softens. “If you need help getting out of a bad situation—”
“I don’t need help with my relationship. Jesus. Sean isn’t a bad guy. He’s just… a little intense sometimes. He has a very stressful job and his life is hard,” she says. Then she adds, “It’s not his fault.”
I look at my friend incredulously. “It’s not his fault that he’s got you on a shock collar? For real. I don’t think this guy is good for you. I think—”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” she says. “Please? Let’s talk about you.”
I’m hesitant because I’m really concerned. But begging is also not an inherent Electra trait. So I let it go.
For now.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, trying to shift back into a chipper mood.
“When are you due?” she asks.
“I have about a month,” I answer. “Though it for real feels like I’m going to pop any day now.”
“So what if… we throw you a baby shower?” she asks as the waiter sets our food down.
“Oh.”
“Oh?” she asks. “Oh my God, tell me you didn’t already have one. You did, didn’t you? Your rich baby daddy threw you some extravagant party and I wasn’t invite—”
“No. I haven’t had one. Are you kidding? I’m holed up in that house twenty-four-seven, other than the half-days I’m working at Apex.”
She perks up again. “So let’s do it! I know some girls from the office that would love to come, even if I don’t work there anymore. And surely you have some friends from work too, right?”
Not exactly. Apex is very predominantly men, and it’s not like I’ve gotten buddy-buddy with them. Then there’s the rotating door of secretaries. I don’t even know the current one’s name. Paula? Good lord. Still, the idea of a baby shower… I mean, I have to admit, some normalcy sounds lovely.
“Think about it,” she goes on. “We could have tea cakes and cucumber sandwiches and play silly games and shower you with gifts. Do you even have a baby registry? Or a diaper stash? Tell me you’ve gotten started on the diaper stash.”
I shake my head slowly. “I guess I just assumed Ransome would provide it all as needed,” I admit.
“You’re going to let a suit and tie man who’s probably never even been around a baby in his life pick everything for you?
Honey, please. Let’s have a baby shower.
You can make a registry and get all the things.
Swings and a crib and a rocker. A pump, because you’ll need that.
My sister has a whole litter of kids, and trust me, you’re going to need a pump.
Especially if you’re still working. Not to mention all the cute clothes. ”
I smile because I can’t help it. But it tips downward when I crash back to reality. “I don’t think Ransome would go for it,” I say, and she gives me a look.
“Says the girl who just lectured me on having a controlling boyfriend.”
“It’s not that. It’s just… complicated, remember? He’s still married and the whole thing is just kind of lowkey.”
“Well, your lowkey pregnancy is about to become a highkey baby that is going to need a whole ass nursery full of baby shit. As a fourth-time aunt, trust me. Those tiny people require a lot. And even your grumpy boyfriend can’t deny you that.”
I caress my belly, thinking about that for a moment.
She’s not wrong. Despite her being a little crazy recently, she’s right about this.
My baby, even if the situation is complicated, is going to need a lot of things.
Things that I can’t wait to look at and buy and set up.
God, the idea of organizing a nursery sounds more exciting than Christmas morning right now. Is this what they call nesting?
“Well?” Electra asks with a hopeful smile.
“I’ll talk to Ransome,” I say, and she squeals. “But what about Sean?”
“What about him?” she asks as if all of our previous conversations never happened.
“He hardly lets you go to yoga or lunch. I can’t see him letting you throw a party.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about that. For one, it’s a party for a baby. It’s not like I’m going to meet other men at a baby shower. And also, I told him you’re pregnant and that you’ve been kind of sheltered, seeing as how the father is married to someone else and all.”
I nearly drop my fork. “You told him all of that?”
She offers an indifferent half-shrug. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not like he cares if your baby daddy is in the middle of a divorce.
He doesn’t care about anything but his job.
Now check this out.” She hands me her phone.
It’s a baby registry loaded with all sorts of cute and fun things, and it pulls my attention away from the conversation for a minute.
A baby shower sounds amazing. With all the bells and whistles. Doing anything that makes me feel normal at this point sounds amazing, and I find myself diving into the idea.
Now I just have to convince Ransome…