I’d been so focused on myself that I hadn’t even noticed him standing there but looked his way now. He grinned and winked, and like earlier, I was suddenly flustered. Which never happened to me.
“The food was good,” Bette replied, as pleasant as always.
“At least you had that,” Ramirez said, grinning. “Have a good night, ladies, and be safe.”
Bette returned his smile, but I ignored him. I didn’t know what his deal was, but I had way too much on my plate to bother with a man. Especially one who worked for the Department ofFertility.
Bette and I were walking side by side, heading for the front door, when she turned to me, “We really should do lunch some time.”
“Maybe,” I replied, then when her face fell, quickly added, “If I can find the time. I mean, I work during the week and my weekends are pretty busy right now.”
It wasn’t true unless hanging out with Trevor counted as busy, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to commit to spending time with her. She seemed nice enough, and despite my initial violent reaction to seeing her round stomach and excited expression, I didn’t bear her any ill will for being in the program. That didn’t make the idea of hanging out with her appealing, though. I just couldn’t help thinking that being with her would be like giving more of my time to the program, and I didn’t want that. The less time I had to think or talk about The Fertility Act, the better.
Bette and I reached the front door, which I held open for her. She smiled as she stepped out, and I followed, letting it shut behind us. Apparently not finished with our talk, Bette paused, and I did as well.
The sky was nearly dark now, and what had been a warm day had cooled off significantly. The air was chilly and thick with the scent of freshly cut grass. A cool breeze swept across the parking lot, rustling the surrounding trees and causing goose bumps to pop up on my arms.
I hugged myself against the cold, my eyes darting to my car, and as if noticing it, Bette said, “I could give you my number if you want. That way if you find some free time and want to get together, you can text me?”
The last sentence came out as a question, making her look vulnerable and so young I was unable to stop myself from pulling my phone from my pocket, unlocking the screen, and saying, “What’s your number?”
Bette beamed as she rattled off the numbers, which I typed into a new text. Once I had, I typed the wordsThis is Araand hit send. Bette’s phone dinged.
She was grinning when she looked at the screen. “I got it!”
“Good.” I rubbed my chilly arms when another breeze blew. “I’ll text you if I have some free time.”
“Sounds good,” she replied enthusiastically.
Again, I glanced toward my car. “I should probably get going. I have some stuff to do at home before I turn in for the night.”
“Me too.” Bette waved her phone. “Looking forward to your text!”
“Yeah,” I said, then turned and jogged toward my car.
I had zero intention of ever getting together with Bette. It wasn’t personal. It was just that I couldn’t look at her without thinking about my own situation, and that didn’t seem like it would make for a fun time. The opposite, really.
After the support group,it came as no surprise that my required monthly counseling session two days later was a total joke. Seriously, the people working for this program did not know how to play it cool.
I’d ducked out of work an hour early and walked the five blocks to the Health Department building, excited to get the whole thing over with. It was Friday, and I had plans with Trevor later that evening, which I was looking forward to even though he was adding the new guy, Owen, to the mix for the first time. They’d gone out twice, and despite the lack of meat, Trevor had been optimistic at the end of both dates but said he couldn’t even think about it becoming anything serious until I gave my official stamp of approval. Typical Trevor.
The security guard, Vera, was once again checking IDs when I reached the lobby, and Ramirez was on duty as usual. Seriously, was he the only soldier assigned to the building? I ignored him even though he was outright staring at me.
Once on the third floor, I was greeted by the same fakeblonde, sat in the same overstuffed chair, and stared at the same too-big fish tank while I waited.
When the frosted glass door opened, I stiffened, not relaxing even a tiny bit when a smiling woman in her thirties stepped out and said, “Arabella Murphy?”
Why did they always voice it as a question when I was usually the only person in the lobby?
“Ara,” I said as I got to my feet.
“Ara!” Her excitement was over the top. “Why don’t you follow me?”
The woman led me through the corridors to the same consultation room Hilary and I had met in my first day and waved to one of the chairs. I studied her as she pulled the door closed, taking in her toned body, long dark hair, too blue eyes, and totally fake rack. She didn’t look like a counselor, more like a Pilates instructor who drank soy protein shakes every morning and meditated at night before she went to bed.
“I’m Janice Harrington,” she began after she’d taken a seat, “And I’m here to make sure everything is going well with you mentally while you’re in the program. So, why don’t we start with you telling me how you’re feeling about everything so far?”
Her bright smile was creepy as fuck.
