We’re sitting face-to-face, my legs are crossed, and I’m blowing a bubble as she speaks. I let her words linger as I wait for the bubble to pop. “Oh yeah?”
She doesn’t reply audibly, but she nods and then swipes at a tear.
“Do you think he’s weirded out by the pregnancy?” I ask, fully aware of what I’ve just done.Aim. Shoot.Bull’s-eye.She winces once and brings her hands to her stomach. It takes everything in me to suppress a smile. She chews her gum thoughtfully as she watches the end credits roll onThe Family Stone,our second romantic comedy of the night.
“Maybe I’m just being emotional.”
“Is he being distant?” I inquire.
“He hasn’t touched me in almost a week. That’s not like him. Maybe he’s just busy with work, but it seems like since I told him about the baby, he’s just been so…notinto me.”
Can you blame him? She’s been a sick mess, on top of beinghormonal and her usual spoiled and demanding self,so I assume,the bloom is probably off the rose for Dean Halston.
“You have been sick,” I remind her.
She nods, wiping another tear with a newly acquired tissue.
“More faux rosé?” I offer, and she only shakes her head. I pour the rest into my glass and wish I could suddenly be back at my hotel room getting fucked by Bishop against my own window right now. It’s after midnight, and I wonder what exactly Bishop has been up to since I’ve been gone. I’d like to send him a text and ask just for the sake of curiosity, but that’s not really the kind of relationship we have.
My phone buzzes with an incoming text then.
Comin’ home tonight?
It’s Bishop. I open the message screen, thankful for the distraction.
Not sure. Miss me?
My message hangs, and I frown, realizing how needy that probably sounds.
“Who’s that?” Jesika chimes.
I lock my screen and set the phone facedown in my lap. “Just friends from Los Angeles wondering when I’ll be back.”
“Las Vegas?” She asks.
“Huh?” I grunt.
“You said you were from Las Vegas.” She turns to look me square in the face then. “Aren’t you?”
“Yeah, I meant Vegas. Did I say LA?”
She frowns, eyes scanning my form. “You do have pretty good style for Vegas…” I shift as I realize I’ve just made a grave mistake. If Jesika doesn’t believe my lie, then all of the rest of this ruse will unravel. “Very LA chic. Have you spent time in LA?”
I nod, thankful for the easy out. “My aunt lived there whenI was a kid. It’s like home away from home. Well, it was. I haven’t been there in years.”
Silence hangs still for a few minutes. I’ll have to be careful not to let my guard down with Jesika; she’s paying closer attention than I thought.
“Do you think you’ll ever have kids someday?” She finally breaks the silence.
“Nah. Kids aren’t for me. D—” I almost use my husband’s name, “my exnever wanted them, so it wasn’t even up for discussion. He was a selfish piece of shit anyway. I wouldn’t have wanted kids with him.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” I wave her off. “I’m glad to be rid of him. He’s someone else’s problem now.”
Jesika flinches at my abrasive tone, but I don’t care. I’m secretly amused that my trash is her treasure. Only Dean isn’t treasure; he just hasn’t revealed his true self yet. I realize then that she doesn’t know my husband, not like I do, and this will implode. Dean is a rolling stone. If he isn’t chasing after his own ego under the guise of his career, he will self-destruct, and no way is Jesika going to be able to raise a kid by herself. These two are screwed. I don’t even have to intervene—they’re already on the path to destruction.
“Wanna know a secret?” Jesika’s eyes twinkle as she leans in. I don’t reply, and it’s all she needs to continue, “Technically, I’m a home-wrecker.” She lets the word hang in the air between us. “I never thought I’d bethatwoman, but in this instance…well, the way he talks about this woman—she’s a real basket case.”
