“Room service,” Iris’ soft voice fills my apartment, and the air is suddenly warm.
“What did you bring?” I ask.
“Oh just a few little things. I was in a baking mood, so I have some orange scones.”
“You’re always in a baking mood,” I accuse her as she sets several cloth bags down on my counter along with a vase of flowers. Then I smell the scones, and I don’t care.
“I also brought sandwiches from the deli around the corner because I know you love their grape and pecan chicken salad. And if I had to guess, you haven’t eaten.”
“Iris,” I say, my voice starting to shake at the thoughtfulness that is my best friend.
“Also, there’s an oat milk lavender candle here for easing your mind,”
“Iris,”
“And some ginger lozenges to help with any morning sickness or heart burning you might be having. Oh, and some peppermint tea.”
“Iris…” I shake my head, looking at the flowers. They’re peonies. And I break down.
“Oh sweetie,” she pulls me into her, and I let myself cry for the hundredth time. “Things will come around. Callum will realize he’s just being a stupid man about all of this. And your sister…well, she’ll be your sister. But that will all work itself out too. It always does. For better or for worse.”
I sniff and nod and sit down on one of the counter stools. I hope she’s right. I need her to be right.
“It’s just so wild how I thought for all of five minutes that my life was finally coming together. That Kate would be marrying her dream man and she’d finally be someone else’s problem. And I got my dream job and it’s wild. Every single day I can’t believe I’m there.”
“I can,” Iris sits down in front of me and hands me a cloth napkin that she also produces from one of her bags. “You are very talented, Amanda. You shouldn’t question that. And Callum Hardin doesn’t question you either. Which is exactly why you work there.”
“Yeah well he seems to question other things. Like whether or not he actually loves me. And whether or not he wants to be a dad.”
“Did he say that?” she asks.
“He was…not happy, if that’s what you mean.”
“But was it because you are pregnant? Or because he found out you are pregnant through paparazzi.”
I don’t answer that. Which probably answers that.
“It’s not like I was intentionally hiding it from him. But since that’s what he thinks, he’s also questioning whether or not the baby is his.”
“Who else would the baby belong to?” she asks.
“That’s exactly what I said. But he freaked out. Jumped to conclusions. Which tells me one of two things. Either he doesn’t trust me. Or he secretly hopes the baby isn’t his because he doesn’t want to be a dad.”
Iris thinks about that. “Does he not want kids?”
“I mean, he’s hinted at it. He’s almost fifty and doesn’t have any yet.”
“True. Still. It’s not unheard of for men his age to fall into fatherhood and embrace it.”
“Well, he wasn’t very embracing,” I sniff. “ Not to mention my sister is very much not speaking to me.”
“Yeah, I’d put that problem on the backburner for now,” Iris says, taking a bite of one of the scones she brought over. She hands me one and I take a bite too. It melts in my mouth, and I almost start crying again.
“She’s getting married in like two weeks and I am the maid of honor. We can’t be on non-speaking terms.”
“Then she will have to come around. Either that or find someone else to fix her tiara for her. If you ask me though, that princess has always had a crack in her crown. Let her figure it out. For now, you need to focus on you. You and the baby.”
“The baby,” I echo with a sigh. “I am still not used to that. Iris. I am going to be a mom.”
