“What happened?” I ask.
Livvie drains half of her beer. “Jeff, my husband, wants kids."
"And that's bad because…?"
"A long time ago, we agreed not to have kids. We wanted big careers, the kind of careers that make it hard to have a family. We both work on Wall Street," she explains. "I didn't want to give up my career for a family, and he didn't either."
Sounds familiar. I definitely fall into the workaholic type of personality. Well, I did when I actually had a job.
"You could get a nanny." As soon as I say it, I feel stupid. Livvie and Jeff have probably thought of everything. She doesn't need me to point things out needlessly. "Sorry, I'll shut up and listen."
Livvie laughs and drinks her beer. "Neither of us want to have kids and watch another person parent them. And that is what we would be doing. Now, out of the blue, Jeff wants kids, but when I asked him if he planned on being a stay-at-home dad, he laughed. He said he thought maybe I'd grown tired of my career and I was ready for a new scene. He asked why I didn't want to look like the other moms pushing expensive strollers around the park. As if I have some sort of defect for not wanting that."
"I'm so sorry," I tell her, pushing my hand across the table. She knows what I'm doing, so she meets me halfway and accepts my squeeze. What an ass that he expects her to drop her career and take care of a new baby.
"I came out here to help save my grandma's business, but I discovered how much I like Arizona, and I don't want to go back now. Earlier today, I asked him to come out here. To give it all up. We could get jobs here, or even in Phoenix. There's so much we could both do there. We could work normal hours. I'd be open to getting a nanny because we wouldn't need her 24/7. I’d be open to kids…"
"What did he say?" I lean forward.
"He said no. He's not willing to give up his job. He has worked too long and too hard to quit now."
Asshole.
I lean in closer. "What are you going to do?"
She sighs. "I don't know. I hung up on him."
I wish there was more I could say or do to make her feel better.
“Now he got all up in my head, and every time I pass a baby something kicks my ovaries until I stare at the baby with heart emoji eyes,” she says, and I grin.
This conversation is hitting a little too close to home, so I squirm in my seat and give a nervous laugh.
Someone drops off the fries and we both murmur a thank you without looking up. Livvie takes a few, shoving them into her mouth. After a few moments of companionable silence, our server comes over and she orders another beer. I try like hell to stop eyeing those fries. After a few minutes of them sitting between us, I can't take it anymore.
"Fries are fries," I say, grabbing a few. Livvie laughs.
Fuck heartburn. It’s worth it.
"Please tell me about your problems. I can't stand mine anymore." She eats another fry. "What's the deal with Owen the oncologist?"
"I'm not sure. I saw him a few days ago. He drove my mom home that day after she had chemo. The day I met you. And he stayed for dinner that night. I thought we were doing okay, being civil and all that. But then things got weird when we were cleaning up the kitchen, and he got a call and left abruptly."
To be fair, I all but pushed him out. He was acting cagey and weird. I sensed he wanted to get into our past and I wasn’t feeling it.
"Some broad?"
I shrug. "Maybe. If it was, it didn't sound like a new relationship. His tone wasn't sweet enough for that."
Did Owen have a girlfriend? I had no idea.
"You think it was an old relationship? Like one he's been in for a while?"
The thought makes me sick and I don’t know why.
"Wouldn't my mom have said something though?" Probably not, since we had a no-talking-about-Owen rule for ten years now.
"The same mom who didn't tell you she was going to church?"
