Chapter 5 Vanna
FIVE
VANNA
The incessant blare of horns rattles the old, frail windows of our kitchen.
With only being the fourth floor up in our apartment building, we’re a lot closer to the main street traffic of New York City and despite having the view of the building next door, it doesn’t stop the rush hour soundtrack from filling our lofty space.
I stare at Daphne, from across the kitchen island with a small suspicion that needled inside of me at the sight of her cooking breakfast and making my coffee.
Not just any coffee, but my very tediously crafted iced caramel macchiato made with fresh espresso from the Breville I won at last year’s Company Holiday Gala.
She hates the thing.
So, when she slides a plate of avocado toast in front of me and then my coffee, she confirms that suspicion of mine.
“I’m moving out.”
My sight narrows on her as I study her this morning.
Over the last few months, she hasn’t been her usual peppy self.
Her blond hair has sat in a loose, messy bun for weeks now, and the bags beneath her vibrant blue eyes have darkened.
Which she would normally hide with a hefty coat of concealer but hasn’t bothered with make up in far too long.
And she hasn’t taken that damn, grey sweat suit off all week even though it’s the peak of summer.
Pinching my lips, I mull over these small changes before I decide to blow her reveal.
“You’re pregnant.”
Her mouth drops open, and a flustered laugh escapes her.
“What makes you say that?”
My eyes snap to the sliced pickles topping the avocado toast she made herself.
“Just a guess.”
The kitchen fills with silence when she notices where my gaze lies.
Then with a sigh, she admits, “Yeah.”
Carefully, I take inventory of her face and the emotions flitting across her features, before rounding the island to her side.
“Babe,” I pull her into me. “It’s going to be okay.”
She chuckles, then sniffles as a few tears slip past her lower lashes.
“I know, Vanna.” She pushes me at arm's length. “I’m actually pretty excited about it.”
“Then, why are you breaking the news over breakfast and coffee, bitch? You know I’d celebrate your ass, even if it was just because you took the biggest shit of your life.”
She snorts, “God, I wish I could shit right now.”
My face twists in mild disgust. “I can pick you up some MiraLAX- Wait! Back to my original point!”
“Yes, fine, but I’ll also take you up on that MiraLAX.” She says seriously. “I know how you feel about Jace and I being together for less than a year and that this is all moving so fast, but we thought with the baby, I should be living there. Don’t hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Daph. You guys are absolutely moving way too fast though, and you know, you could stay here. I could help you raise this baby.” I tell her.
Her face falls, “Vanna, you can barely take care of yourself. No offense, but you don’t really live a life that screams motherhood.”
Ouch. “I obviously would figure it out. You act like you don’t live the same life! You just met this guy and now you’re having his baby. Case and point!”
“What the fuck, Vanna?” Tears well in her eyes.
“That’s not-”
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you!”
“Daphne, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a bitch, but-” I stop my next sentence in its tracks. “No, no. What I mean is that I’m sorry. Period. This is your life, and you know what you’re doing. I’ll support you no matter what, okay?”
Now she cries a little harder. I grab her by the arms and pull her into me, rubbing the back of her head.
“How far along are you, anyway?”
“Four months.” She whimpers.
“Um, wow.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to process everything she’s told me. “Fuck, please stop crying.”
Daphne gasps, “Jesus, Van.”
“Look, you were always the soft one. Smart and rational. The lovey dovey, nurturer. So, I guess this makes a lot of sense. Now that I think about it, you’re going to make a great mom.
And if things with Jace don’t work out, I’ll always be here for you.
I just need a small heads up so I can figure out how to mature before you take your room back. ”
Daphne pulls back to look at me. “I love you, you know? And I didn’t mean that you can’t take care of yourself, I just mean-”
“I have some things to work out, I know.”
“And dealing with Hunter-”
“Yeah, that psycho... and not to mention I’ll be homeless once you leave me.” I grumble, taking my seat again and tearing into the toast.
I watch, nauseated as Daphne bites into hers and crunches on a pickle.
“Okay, that’s a little dramatic.”
“Rent is astronomical and my raise this year won’t even come close to being able to cover your half, but it’s not your problem. I’ll just sell feet pics.”
She rolls her eyes. “I may have a solution.”
My brow quirks.
“Well, you’re not the only one that will be without a roommate now.”
“No.” I blurt.
“Wait, just hear me out.”
“No, Daph. The answer is a hard, effing-”
“Hey, Darkness.”
I stare at Stone with absolute defeat.
It took six different begging sessions, two weekends of being wined and dined by my best friend and her impregnator, and an uncomfortable dinner alone with Jace’s soon-to-be ex-roommate, before I finally relented.
And only because if I didn’t, I really would have to start selling feet pics.
Moving aside, Stone slips past me and into the apartment. He looks so out of place here. Perhaps it’s the fact that this space still holds Daphne’s energy or that I forgot to put my bras away after hanging them to dry, but either way he’s a black sheep in the middle of Grand Central Station.
“Okay, rules – before you settle in.” I begin.
“One, no late rent.”
My mouth drops open. How dare he? I mean, was it the same rule I already had in mind? Duh, but the rule was for him, not me.
“Same goes for you, bud.”
The corner of his mouth tilts in an amused smirk, and the silver rings pierced through his nostril glint from the hanging lights in the kitchen.
“Glad we agree then.”
“Two, respect my space.”
“Three, no hookups in the house.” He volleys.
Okay, he’s officially overstepped.
“No fucking way. This is my house, and I’d much prefer to have someone here than to get stuck in a basement somewhere with a serial killer.”
His brows raise questioningly.
“You say this like it’s happened.”
“Haven’t you watched a single murder documentary? Happens all the time and I’ll be damned if I end up just another 60-minutes special no one will remember.”
“Fine.” He stalks past me and toward the pantry.
I watch, already annoyed, as he comes out with a bottle of wine that was a gift from Daphne before she left. My eyes widen at the audacity.
“Don’t you dare.” I tell him.
Only, it’s too late. As if he’s been here before, he pulls out the wine opener from the island drawer. Didn’t even take a minute to look for it. Then, uncorks the cabernet.
“How did you know where that was?”
He spins, easily pulling two wine glasses down from the cabinet and places them on the concrete island counter.
Pouring, he answers, “This isn’t my first time here, Vanna. I’m best friends with Jace and you know as well as I do that he and Daphne are inseparable.”
He hands me one of the glasses and reluctantly, I take it.
“Rule number three, advance warning if either one of us are hooking up. Then we can decide if we want to make ourselves scarce.”
“Or join.”
Wine rushes to the back of my throat as I inhale, shocked by his suggestion. It takes several coughs to catch my breath and when I do, he’s standing there smirking at me knowing exactly what’s playing inside my head right now.
Was it the hottest night of my life? Maybe.
Do I regret it? Kind of?
I don’t know.
“No. Rule number four, no joining!”
“You should probably write all these down.”
I scowl, “You know what? I will. That way you won’t forget.”
He snorts. “Sure.”
After three hours and four glasses of wine, we have our house rules.
1.Pay rent on time
2.Respect each other's space
3.Advance notice for house guests
4.No hooking up with each other
The last one might be cliche but was necessary. Stone doesn’t seem to think so, but by the way he’s smirking at me from across the couch, I disagree.
Yeah, that rule is necessary.