“No, abso-fucking-lutely not. But it sounded good, right?”
“I love you,” I say, pulling her into my body and hugging her tight.
“Good, because I love you too. Whatever happens next, I’m right here, no matter what.”
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Well, I don’t care what you think you deserve. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
I roll my shoulders back and suck in a deep breath through my nose.
“I’ve got this,” I say, holding my head high and wiping my tears again. My fingers come away stained black, and I have no doubt my cheeks look similar. But that’s not going to stop me from enjoying a night with my best friend. “Come on. I’m starving,” I say, hooking my arm through hers and dragging her toward the bar entrance.
It’s already busy, everyone inside wearing a whole range of green and white, ready to support the Vipers.
Thankfully, we find a table at the back. You can’t see the TVs from here, which is fine by me, seeing as we’ll be in the arena to see it all live in a few hours.
“I’m just gonna…” I point over my shoulder in the direction of the restrooms. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“You okay on your own?”
“Yes. Save the table and order me a soda if the server comes.”
Sienna smiles and nods before I disappear to fix the state of my face.
As predicted, I’m red and patchy, my eyes bloodshot and swollen. I’m a mess, but then I guess it’s just reflecting what’s on the inside right now. And I certainly don’t need to worry that anyone might try to chat me up tonight. I’m like a walking red flag, and I don’t even have a bump yet.
I do the best I can before walking out to find my friend and finally get some food inside me.
After placing an order for a bacon and cheeseburger, fries, and a side of onion rings, I take a sip of my soda and slump back in my seat.
“So…” Sienna starts. “Work was busy today, huh?”
“Yep. And the weather was hot,” I counter with a smirk.
She wants to ask a million and one questions but also doesn’t want to push me.
“It’s okay. I can talk about it. Maybe it’ll even help if I do. Hell knows I’ve kept it bottled up long enough.”
“Okay, good. How far along are you? When is your due date? Was everything okay when you visited the doctor? Have you figured out how you’re going to tell him? Are you going to tell your mom? What about work, and maternity leave, and?—”
“Take a breath,” I demand, lifting my glass for another drink.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I just…this is a lot.”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter, trying to remember the questions she started with. “Coming up on six weeks. I put the conception date into an online calculator, and it came back with early January. The doctor hasn’t said anything because I haven’t been, and?—”
“You haven’t been?”
“N-no. I feel fine. I’ve done four different tests. I’m pretty certain what the diagnosis is.”
“But you need to go. They’ll hook you up with your midwife, you need to get your ultrasounds booked in and…shit, Bea. We need to make sure you’re both looked after.”
I nod, dropping my eyes to the table as shame burns through me.
“Bea? What’s—oh, fuck. Tell me you didn’t cancel your insurance,” she begs.
“I couldn’t afford to keep it up,” I whisper. “It was just temporary while I got the business back on its feet.”
