Girl Crush(79)

I stood there with my hands on my knockers and a grimace on my face.

“Nothing, I just hugged her.” Beck was shocked by V’s accusation.

I turned to see if Collier’s friends were within earshot, and when I realized they were a safe distance away, I said, “You smashed the shit out of my headlights. It hurt.”

Ronnie’s eyes went wide and round. The others kept talking, but she grabbed me by the forearm and pulled me aside. She hissed under her breath. “Are you keeping something from me?”

“Umm, have you not been lying to me for weeks?”

“Technically, no. I haven’t lied about anything. I just haven’t said anything about Collier’s plans to propose. Big difference.”

I crossed my arms under my chest and winced at their tenderness. “Lie of omission. Still a lie. Ask Trish.”

“Giselle, that is not the point right now.”

“It absolutely is.”

“Why are you avoiding this?”

“Avoiding what?” I didn’t have any earthly idea what she was talking about.

“You need to go see a doctor, or at the very least, take a test.”

“For what?” My brow furrowed, and I dropped my hands to my sides, balled into fists. She was not going to ruin my night. I was two seconds away from stomping my feet and telling on her.

“You’ve gained weight.”

Appalled by her statement, my mouth fell open.

“Shut up and listen. Damn, Gizzy. I’m your best friend, and if you’re going to be blind to this then apparently, I have to point it out. You’ve put on a couple pounds, your breasts have gotten bigger regardless of whether you want to admit it, and they’re tender.”

“What’s your point, Ronnie? Do I need to spell out menstruation and ovulation for you? Water retention, tender breasts, those happen just before the pain of cramps and a horrendous period. Where have you been for the last twenty-five years? Or did you miss Puberty 101?”

“Or early onset pregnancy. Whichever.” Her flippant response grated on my nerves.

“I don’t have morning sickness,” I pointed out.

“Not everyone does. That’s not a valid argument.”

“I’m thirty-nine.”

“Women have babies into their fifties. Next?”

“You’re just mean. Why would you tell me I’m fat the day I get engaged?”

“Did you just call me mean? What are you, five?” She gave me the same look she always did when she thought I was being immature. “Do you and Collier use protection? When was your last period?”

“They’ve been sporadic the last year or so. My mother went into early menopause.” My head flooded with irrational fears of stretch marks and diapers. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Nope. You can face it whenever you want.”

Before I could respond, Collier grabbed me by the waist and kissed my neck. I smiled at my best friend smugly as if his enthusiasm toward me somehow negated her point.

“You ready, babe?” he asked.

“Yep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, V.”

“I’ll be around whenever you come out of fantasy land.”

Collier hugged her thinking she referred to our engagement. I flipped her off and stuck out my tongue when his back was turned. And my best friend mouthed, You’re pregnant, over his shoulder. I squinted, knowing I couldn’t retort without alerting West, and this was a topic we’d never discussed. Ronnie was full of crap, and when my period started, I contemplated making her sit with me through hours of sappy love stories while eating popcorn and Ben and Jerry’s.





19





Twenty-six. That’s the number of pregnancy tests I took the following day when I called in to work after Collier left for the office. After three trips to three different drug stores to buy other brands, I’d ended up with twenty-six inaccurate sticks lying on our bathroom counter. Each arranged in neat rows and columns, and all screaming at me. I hurt for women who bought into the lies these companies propagated to hopeful mothers-to-be. There should be laws against faulty products.

I rubbed my temples and closed my eyes, not wanting to acknowledge what was before me. Ignorance was bliss, and I could lie to myself for ages…or at least nine months until the pains of labor started.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” In my haste to repeat a string of explicative words under my breath, I apparently tuned out the house around me. And the man who’d entered our bedroom.

“Babe?”

The sound of Collier’s voice brought me out of my chant, and I waited to see if I’d really heard him or if it was my imagination.

“Elle? Where are you?”

“Shit.” I stared at boxes all over the floor and tests on the counter, but before my brain registered the need to flee the scene, I saw him in the mirror. Our eyes met, and then his dropped to the evidence I hadn’t hidden.

I froze, waiting to see what he’d do. He reached out and picked up the test closest to him, then another, and another. “How many did you take?” he finally asked when he held nearly half of them in his fists.

“Twenty-six.” I prayed he didn’t know what two lines indicated.

“You’re pregnant?” His words sounded almost hopeful, and his brows rose in anticipation of my answer.