California Girls(76)

DeeDee glared at both of them. “Don’t listen to the sourpusses. You’re my hero. Good for you, Zennie. Dr. Chen isn’t going to do anything about your being pregnant. He’s a sweetie.”

All three of them stared at her. She blushed. “Okay, maybe not a sweetie, but he’s not that awful.”

“You said he had Rita in tears,” Gina muttered. “Rita was a Marine.”

Zennie did her best to process her friends’ reactions. Having her parents object was one thing, but she’d really expected her friends to be more supportive. And what if they were right about Dr. Chen? What if she did get thrown off the team?

“You know the worst part?” Gina asked. “What if you find the right guy? How are you going to explain being pregnant?”

“I’m not looking for a guy.”

“That’s when you always find him,” Cassie pointed out. “Oh, Zennie, I wish you hadn’t done this.”

Zennie glared at the two of them. “You know what I wish? That I had friends who could be happy for me and support what I’m doing.” She turned to DeeDee. “I need to go.”

DeeDee slid out of the booth. Zennie followed. She faced the table.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much you’ve disappointed me,” she said before hugging DeeDee. “Not you, my friend.”

“Thanks. You don’t have to go.”

“Yes, I do.”

She threw twenty dollars on the table to cover her drink and share of the egg rolls, then walked out.

As she got to her car, she was overwhelmed by nausea. She didn’t know if it was mistimed morning sickness or just because she was upset. Regardless, she took deep breaths until the sensation passed, then drove home.

When she was safely in her apartment, she threw herself on the sofa and decided she was perfectly justified in having a mini pity party—at least for a couple of hours. Her parents objecting was one thing, even though she was still mad about what her dad had said, but Gina and Cassie chastising her was harder to deal with. So far she only had Ali and DeeDee on her side. She’d been hoping for a larger contingent in the support department.

She did a few breathing exercises, then tried to gather some enthusiasm about dinner. She knew she had to eat. Maybe she would feel better if she texted with a friend. Only who? DeeDee was still out with Gina and Cassie, and Zennie couldn’t discuss her problem with Bernie—it would only upset her.

She started to text Ali, only to stop herself. She was stronger than this—she didn’t need to bother anyone. If only she didn’t feel so alone.

Maybe she needed a pet, she thought. Not a dog—she wasn’t home enough. How about a cat? Cats purred and that would be nice. She could go to a local shelter and adopt a nice adult cat who would be there for her. A cat would—

She swore under her breath. Hadn’t she read something about cats and pregnancy? A parasite or something? She eyed the pregnancy book on her coffee table, confident the answer was in there, but not wanting to look.

Great. She couldn’t eat sushi, she couldn’t have coffee or wine or go in a sauna and now she couldn’t even get a cat. She wasn’t willing to admit to second thoughts, but being pregnant was a much bigger drag than she’d ever thought possible.





Chapter Twenty


“You need to go on a date.” Rochelle’s voice was firm, as if she actually expected Finola to listen.

Finola stared at her assistant over her mug of coffee. “Are you kidding? A date? Really? Because I need one more thing?”

“You’ll feel better, I swear. Nothing serious. Just a nice, happy revenge date with a great-looking, younger guy who has a mad crush on you.”

Finola thought about how she still wasn’t sleeping very well and how putting on enough concealer to look refreshed was becoming an art form.

“And where would we find such an amazing guy? On Amazon?”

They sat across from each other at the small table in Finola’s dressing room.

“You’ve had dozens of offers,” Rochelle said eagerly.

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not. You forget, I have your old phone. You’re working off a burner. I get your messages every day.”

And cleared them out, Finola thought. Rochelle was deleting the cruel comments, the requests for interviews and all the other crap designed to make her feel worse than she already did.

Rochelle smiled gleefully. “Trust me, there are plenty of men eager and willing to help you get over Nigel, and some of the offers are pretty tempting.”

“Then you go out with them.”

“They’re not interested in me.”

“They would be if they saw you.” Rochelle was young and beautiful—filled with possibility. Finola was simply used-up and tired.

“I’m not ready for a revenge date.”

“Are you waiting for Nigel to come back?”

“Of course not. I was at first. I had no clue anything was going on. I was devastated.” She still was, she admitted to herself. “I wanted things to go back to the way they were.” She clutched her coffee, recognizing a truth she hadn’t articulated before. “I just don’t think they can.”

Her voice was so small, she thought. So powerless. Nigel hadn’t just cheated on her, he’d stolen the very essence of her. He’d ripped her bare and left her with nothing but wounds. She knew, excluding the public nature of what had happened, her situation wasn’t unique. She wasn’t the first woman to be cheated on and she wouldn’t be the last. But that knowledge didn’t take away the pain or sense of loss. She was truly broken and she didn’t think she would ever feel whole again.