Girl Crush(46)

Donning my favorite dark-wash skinny jeans, booties, and a loose sequin tank top, I’d be able to dance, relax, or draw attention—whichever the night called for. I went easy on the makeup, more natural than the heavier application for evenings, and rolled my hair into long, thick curls that hung midway down my back. Just before Ronnie barked at me from downstairs, I added a stack of thin bangles to my wrist and hooked a pair of chandelier earrings that matched to my ears.

“Come on, Gizzy. We’re supposed to be there at eight.”

I stomped heavily on the stairs. “Pull your panties out of your ass. I’m ready.”

“I don’t have any panties on—Trish likes it better that way.” She winked at me, and I swallowed back the vomit. I loved them both but didn’t want to think about either of them naked. It would be like envisioning my mom in the buff. Just no. “Damn, you look fantastic. How much are you running these days? I’d swear you’ve lost weight.”

“What have you done?” My hand met my hip that I cocked out to the side.

“Nothing…”

“Then why are you being nice?” I moved past her to the kitchen to grab my cell phone and keys before I tossed them into my purse.

“I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. Are you on a diet?” She pulled her head back to take me in.

“Stop.”

“Just worried about you, Giz. I don’t want you wasting away on me. You’ve been kind of MIA the last few weeks. Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Veronica. I’m here anytime you want to come by.”

That was only partially true. I’d been at Collier’s a good bit recently, but no one else knew that—except maybe Beck, if her brother had told her.

“All right. Well, Trish is in the car, so let’s move. No need to start the night off with a bitch fest.”

I stopped and stared at her. “Are you in the doghouse, again?”

“I may or may not have stayed at Holden’s three times this week.”

“The fact that your boss lets you shack up at his house when you and your girlfriend fight blows my mind. Doesn’t his wife care?”

“Nah. She kind of made me my own room. Well, the guest room, but she decorated based on stuff I like and calls it mine. Speaking of Janelle, we should have called her to see if she wanted to join us.”

“Isn’t she a little young to be hanging out with this crowd?”

“She’d never escape without Holden anyhow. Now that she’s knocked up, he doesn’t let her out of his sight. I keep waiting for him to make her start working from the firm so he can keep an eye on her.”

We got in the car after I locked the front door, and Trish appeared unusually chipper.

“You look great, Giselle. All that running is paying off.”

I didn’t know what these bitches were tripping on. I wasn’t running any more or less than I always had, and my diet hadn’t changed. My clothes fit just like normal. “Umm, thanks.”

The two of them bickered back and forth about the apparent cause of Ronnie’s stay with Holden and Janelle. Twelve-hundred-dollar Christian Louboutin over-the-knee leather boots. V was lucky it had only taken Trish three days.

“You didn’t seem to mind when I showed up to bed with nothing else on but those boots you’ve continuously bitched about.” Ronnie never knew when to shut up.

“That was before I realized we could have made a house payment instead of adorning your feet.”

“It’s not like we can’t afford them. Why do you care?” I could hear the pout in Ronnie’s voice from the back seat.

“Because we’re never going to have a baby if you don’t stop spending money!”

Whoa. That was not something I’d expected to hear. Ronnie and I hadn’t talked the way we normally did in recent weeks, but this revelation warranted a phone call—she should have made time.

“I need to enjoy them while I can. Do you have any idea what pregnancy will do to my body? Knee-high leather boots will find their way to the back of the closet when the stretch marks take over.”

I didn’t have a clue what was going on and didn’t think I should interject to find out. I wasn’t sure how two lesbians went about having a baby, but before I could stop myself, the words fell out of my mouth. “How the hell do lesbians get pregnant?” I was totally confused.

“Sex or a turkey baster.” Ronnie’s clipped response marked her agitation, but I still wasn’t clear on the issue.

“Which would you two do? Isn’t in vitro really expensive?”

“We have a donor.” I couldn’t see Trish’s face, but I could hear the happiness in her voice.

“She wants to farm me out to have sex with some guy.”

My head whipped from side to side, following the bickering banter between the two of them in front of me. If I weren’t careful, I might strain a muscle in my neck.

“He’s not some guy. I’ve known him most of my life. Chase has an incredible gene pool.”

“Too bad I like pussy and not dick, Trish. I’m not interested in having Chase impregnate me through traditional methods to save a buck.”

“Then quit spending money like it’s fucking water, and you won’t have to fuck him.”