Layla: TBH the watermelon is probably not as thick.
Layla:Kidding. Okay. I’ll go.
Grant: We’ll* go.
Layla: ?
Layla: Do you have plans with watermelons you want to tell me about?
Grant: Emotional support, baby. Better get used to it.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I asked Maddie as she parallel parked her Range Rover in front of Grant’s apartment.
“Yeah. I’ve done it before. Chase just says to pull up parallel to the car in the front and match the steering wheel to its position.”
“No, I mean showing up at Grant’s place unannounced.”
We were both nursing a huge fountain soda and Wetzel pretzel. I allowed myself a Diet Coke once a week now. I knew it wasn’t the best thing I could put inside my body, but that could also be said about all the fuckboys I’d slept with prior to Grant. If I could survive them, the baby could survive this. It was all about balance.
“Yeah, I’m sure.” Maddie killed the engine and flung her bag over her shoulder. Her Range Rover was at least ten inches too deep into the road. “He literally invited you to live with him. This isyourapartment now just as much as it is his. You broke your dang lease. Besides, we need to take some measurements for the baby’s room.”
This was true. And since I was terrible at measuring anything that wasn’t how much food I could eat at Thanksgiving before my zipper exploded, I’d brought Mads as reinforcement. She’d picked me up armed with a measuring tape and a big book full of wallpaper samples.
We got out of the car, and I punched in the combination to enter the building. I had to admit that I liked that I was moving into such a secure place. We walked inside and took the first flight of stairs to Grant’s apartment. My heart thumped inside my chest. I hadn’t seen him in four days. Not since we had Thai curry together and finished binge-watching a reality TV show about glassblowing.
I was sick with longing. I missed him every moment I wasn’t next to him at this point, and I was waiting for his move to Minnesota, because then I could finally cut the cord and go cold turkey.
It was a Wednesday evening, and I hadn’t told Grant I was coming. There was every chance he’d be there. I knew he wouldn’t mind me dropping by, but it still felt like a breach of privacy.
My best friend was right, though. If I wanted this to work, I needed to stop feeling like an intruder in his life. I’d spoken about this with Dr. Lopez, who’d told me putting my faith in Grant was a leap that showed I was truly healing.
I stopped in front of his door. Took a deep breath. Then another one. Then another twelve.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Maddie piped up behind me. “No pressure at all, though. I’ll wait. It’s not like I have a human the size of a bowling ball using my bladder as a cushion.”
“Okay, okay.” I punched in the combination to his door, and the lock made a mechanical sound. I pushed the door open. Stepped inside.
My heart lodged inside my throat at what I saw in front of me.
I couldn’t breathe.
Jessica, the pretty doctor from the cafeteria, was in a tiny pair of beige shorts and a matching Alo Yoga sweatshirt, and looked right at home. She was standing next to Grant, too close for comfort, laughing at something he’d said.
Grant wasn’tthatfunny.
I mean, he was, but his humor was drier than a vermouthless martini.
I froze. I’d never felt this way before. Like someone had taken a rusty knife and sliced my gut open, top to bottom. It hurt so bad to see her here that I could hardly breathe.
Up until now, I’d tortured myself with theories about Grant and Jessica. Now, I had a confirmation. How many times had she been here before and after I was? Did they have sex? Did he do that thing where he closed her legs together and swung them to one side of his shoulder while penetrating her? Did she like that too?
Bile made its way up my throat.
“Hey, roomie.” Grant was the first to notice me. He stalked toward the door, just when Maddie had pushed her way past me to let herself inside. My best friend took one glance at Jessica, then me, and immediately understood the situation.
“Hi, George.” Grant leaned to kiss my still mostly flat belly, then stood up to flick my nose. “Hi, George’s mom.”
“Don’t make me kill you,” I warned.
