Sarah pretends not to notice his discomfort. She casually pulls back her hand and turns to Lauren, who talks about the expense and difficulty of adopting a newborn.
Sarah glances at her watch. “I’m nearly out of time, and Quinn said she had something personal to share.”
All eyes turn to me.
Lauren’s are bright and expectant. “Did you meet someone?”
“Oh, right,” Annie says. “At the last meeting, you said you were going on a blind date.”
“It wasn’t exactly blind.” I’d decided to give internet dating yet another try, so I’d seen a photo of the guy beforehand. He wasn’t smiling in his profile, which should have been a red flag, but as usual, I’d been overly optimistic.
It couldn’t qualify as a blind date from the other potential meaning of the term, either; from the way he kept staring at my chest, he was anything but blind—although he might have been a little farsighted, because my shirt was cut no lower than my collarbone and my chest is in no way stare-worthy.
“I’m not even sure it was really a date.” Does meeting for coffee in the middle of the afternoon qualify as a date?
But I know that Annie and Lauren mean well. The eager, expectant expressions on their faces are exactly the same look Rufflesgets when I hold a Beggin’ Strips bag, and I want—I reallywant—to tell them what they hope to hear so that they can maintain some optimism about the dating pool.
“I went for coffee with a guy I met online, and it was a total bust,” I say.
“A bust, how?” Annie asks.
“He didn’t look anything like his profile picture, I had to pay for his coffee because he forgot his wallet, and he had absolutely nothing to say. It’s like he’d undergone a personality extraction.”
“Oh.” A disappointed sigh collectively escapes from everyone at the table, like air from a deflating tire.
“So what’s your news?” Annie asks.
Sarah leans forward. “Have you decided to freeze your eggs?”
“No.” My heart hammers in my chest. The pressure that has been building in me, the pressure I’ve tamped down again and again, is expanding and swelling until it feels as though the words will burst out of my ears if I don’t let them out of my mouth. “Actually, I’m already beyond that.” My voice has a weird little wobble.
They all stare at me. Annie’s brow pulls into a quizzical crease. Lauren looks baffled. Sarah’s gaze is intense and focused. Even Mac is looking directly at me, something he rarely does with anyone.
I swallow hard. My tongue feels wrapped in cotton batting.
“What do you mean?” Sarah, always outspoken, voices the question I can read on everyone’s faces.
Oh, my God. It’s so inappropriate to feel this way with Brooke just gone, and yet, there it is—a shining bubble of pure, glowing joy.
I say the words that finally release my secret. “I’m pregnant.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Quinn
WHAT?”
“How?”
“Huh?”
“Whose?”
It would have been funny, the way everyone bombards me with questions all at once, if only I didn’t feel like crying. This is a moment I should be sharing with Brooke. She and I celebrated and commiserated together over all of life’s highs and lows. Right now I’m dealing with two major events that are literally life and death, the best and the worst I’ve ever experienced. Both are because of her, and she isn’t here, and...
Oh, Lily was so, so right. It isn’t fair.
“It’s... it’s...” I draw a breath and wipe my eyes. Annie reaches in her purse, then hands me a tissue. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
