My doctor friend Molly sprints over. “Sit,” she commands as she whips out her blood pressure cuff. “If you’re doing this, we need to make sure you’re up to the task. I don’t want you stressing your body.”
“I’m fine.” I take a seat anyway, extending my arm so she can check me for the ten-millionth time. “It’s not like it’ll be more stressful trying to win Luke back than it is living without him.”
It’s been nearly a week since I kicked him out. Six days, two hours, and some odd seconds of anger and sadness and guilt. Almost the same amount of time I've spent learning to trust what I already knew in my heart. I’m starting a family with the world’s kindest man.
How did I miss the simple beauty of that?
“130 over 80,” reports Molly as she releases the blood pressure cuff. “I’m happy with that. Any cramping or spotting?”
“No. Just a little discomfort.”
Molly’s brow furrows. “Fever or increased swelling?”
“No.” Wincing, I shift in my chair. “It just feels like two ten-pound aliens keep tap dancing on my internal organs while fighting over the escape hatch.”
“Hmm.” She places two fingers on my wrist to monitor my pulse. “You’re probably due to have your cervix checked again.”
The door flies open, and Zoe and Erika rush through in time to hear most of that.
“Can we wait on the cervix?” Zoe unloads an armload of boxes onto the table. “We come bearing gifts.”
“For Luke.” Erika grins. “Okay, also for me. Can I just say how fucking cool it is that I get to do tune-ups on teeny-tiny cars? It’s a true test of my mechanic skills.”
I watch as my friends get to work. “Were you able to get everything?”
“Yep.” Zoe picks up a little pink van with yellow and orange surfboards sticking out of the back. “I still can’t believe this retails for nearly two-hundred grand.”
All the other women gasp, and I hustle to explain. “I didn’t really pay that! It’s not an original.” I mean technically, this one wasn’t cheap, either. “It’s a replica of the most collectible Hot Wheels in existence.”
Erika looks reverent as she cleans the pink paint with a cloth. “The rear-loading Beach Bomb was created in 1969 with a prototype that originally remained in the possession of a Mattel employee. The surfboards made it too narrow and top-heavy, so they switched to side-mounted surfboards and a plastic sunroof for a lower center of gravity.”
Zoe points proudly as the other women cluster around. “Only two original pink versions are known to exist. We’re pretty sure this isn’t one of them. It’s probably one of the other colors that slipped into public circulation, and those are rare, too. We think somebody repainted it pink.”
“It’s insanely cool.” Erika sets it aside so the others can admire it. “We also tracked down a 1968 Beatnik Bandit. It was originally made in eighteen colors, but the pink one is super rare—only a handful were made.”
Molly looks nervous beside me. “They’re cute, but aren’t they a choking hazard for small children?”
“Don’t worry,” I promise my doctor pal. “They’re mostly for Luke, until the girls get old enough to safely play with Hot Wheels.”
Erika picks up the Beatnik Bandit and uses a tiny set of pliers to make an adjustment. “You can save the vintage ones for display purposes only. We got tons of other Hot Wheels cars, plus this bomb-ass track. The girls won’t know the difference between the collectibles and the ones that don’t cost a small fortune.”
Luke will know the difference, though. And I’ll let him decide how to use them. “We’ll see,” I say as Lucy flies through the door.
“I hit the motherlode.” Spitting hair off her face, she rushes toward me with a thick file folder. Dropping it on the table, she catches her breath. “This is everything. I sent you digital copies, too.”
“Thank you.” I peel back the edge of the folder, peeking inside to skim what’s in there. “Wow—you really deployed your private eye super-sleuth skills.”
My cousin beams. “It was easy, once we had the right name to work from. It’s all here—everything Luke could possibly want.”
Brooke looks up from editing my speech. “Well, not everything.”
“No?” And now I’m concerned. “What did I forget? This has to go perfectly and?—”
“Honey,” Brooke says, resting a hand on my arm. “Just be yourself. Give him you—the most vulnerable, authentic, genuine Hazel you can offer. That’s what Luke wants.”
Cassidy steps up beside her. “It’s what we all want for you, too.”
“Yep.” Erika looks up from the tiny car. “The Hazel we know isn’t just a badass boss bitch. She’s kind and sensitive and loving.”
