“Max, my love,” Gwen says, reaching for Bob’s hand. “Remember? Childhood friend, came back to town a couple weeks back.”
“Oh,Max.”
“I saw him a couple days ago, too.” I adjust the pile of pamphlets advertising The Mirage, pretending not to count them. “His sister texted because they were busy clearing outhis storage unit from high school. His stuff’s in the barn until further notice.”
I leave out the part where Max and I almost kissed. After watching his arm muscles flex while moving stuff around and then having the heat of his body so close, I got caught up in the moment. At least any time that’s happened, I’ve stopped myself from taking things too far.
“For how long?” my friend asks, although I know what she’s really asking—willhebe here for long?
“A few months, at the most.”
“As in moon-waxing-and-waning-fully months?”
“The barn is a temporary solution. When we got drinks, he said—”
“Wait, you gotdrinks?” Bob’s eyes go wide.
“Sweetie, I told you this. Remember?”
“I’m sorry. My mind’s…it’s been elsewhere.”
Honestly, I’m relieved Bob hasn’t absorbed every humiliating detail about my personal life. “We went to Sal’s, and I felt kind of bad for him. Sounds like the rug’s been pulled out from under him at his last job, so he’s in shock.”
“Jeez. Well…” Gwen pouts. “You need to be careful.”
“I am.”
“I know you think you are, but using the barn for his things? Going to old haunts together for pitchers of beer?”
“We each had one beer.” My defensive shackles rise. “Singular.”
“Doesn’t matter. You have been more than gracious in helping him out, but that does not mean you have to put yourself out there anymore. You’re busy, you have your own life, and—”
“Okay, babe,” Bob says, resting his hands on her forearms. “You shouldn’t get worked up. You know…”
“You’re right.” Gwen bites her lower lip, and a girlish laugh escapes her. “You should say it.”
“No, you.”
“Say what?” I ask, confused by how my friend went from protective mama bear to giggling schoolgirl in three seconds flat.
“Um, well, I…” She loops a hand in Bob’s and rests her head on his shoulder. “We’re having a baby.”
“A baby?” I look between the two of them to make sure I heard her correctly. “You’re pregnant?”
“Mhmm. You’re gonna be an auntie.”
I go in for another group hug because the surprise has sucked the words out of me. Gwen talked about wanting to have kids one day, and I envisioned us in our thirties, pregnant together and raising our babies. That left me with years before the pressure to settle down. I didn’t know she and Bob wanted a kidnow.
And gracious friend that she is, she let me ramble on about Max and the hotel while she had news like this.
Gwen tells me she’s feeling extra everything lately. Extra tired, extra hungry, and extra irritable. As she goes into details about how Bob plans to build a wall in the bonus room to make the nursery, and all the wisdom her doula has already imparted, my heart swells with joy.
And maybe, just maybe, a bit of fear. I don’t have a sliver of a doubt that she’s hired an amazing birthing team. My fears are unspeakable. Selfish. Because as Gwen gushes about the journey she’s about to embark on, I can’t help but wonder if I’m being left behind.
“Psst. Daze.” Ava waves at me and gestures to the empty seat to her left. I already know Gwen won’t be here—she’s so nauseous that Bob had to fill in at the shop—so I snag the spot. Settling in, and still sore from that yoga class, I do a double take when I see who’s sitting on her right.
Max nods a silent greeting to me, smiling in a bewilderedoh-you-go-here?kind of way. He must clock my confusion because he says, “Driver,” under his breath and points to his chest.
