What Lovers Do(29)

As I finish slipping on my bikini, my cell phone rings. “Hey, Jules. How’s the wedding?”

“It’s rehearsal dinner later. I’m getting a pedicure at the moment. Just seeing how you’re feeling.”

“I’m fine. Why?” I adjust my top and inspect myself in the full-length mirror.

“Just seeing if morning sickness has hit.”

“Oh. That. No. Not yet. Maybe I won’t get it. Not everyone does.”

“I hope not for your sake. I think it should be a rule that if you’re carrying a child for someone else, you shouldn’t get sick.”

“You haven’t told anyone, have you? Chloe would kill me if it got out.”

“Of course not. I can keep a secret, ya know. So what are you up to this weekend? Jimmy still trying to woo you with his lazy ass?”

“No. I golfed this morning.”

Not a lie.

“Is your dad visiting?”

“No.”

Not a lie.

“Who did you golf with?”

“Myself.”

Half lie.

“Can you do that? Can you play golf by yourself?”

I chuckle. “Yes. You can play golf by yourself.”

Still, not a lie.

“Sophie, the switch to open the cover to the pool is in the box next to the heat lamp,” Shep yells upstairs.

I press my hand against my phone’s speaker, but I’m not sure it’s fast enough.

“Who’s that?”

“Who’s who?”

“Sophie. I heard a guy. Something about a pool cover?”

“It was Jimmy.”

Here come the lies …

“It didn’t sound like Jimmy. And you don’t have a pool. Where are you?”

“Nowhere—”

“Sophie, you’re in Sedona.”

I cringe. Jules and I follow each other’s location. Stupid, stupid me for forgetting to shut that off.

“I am.” I bite my lips together and wait for her to ask the questions so I can determine how many lies I can believably feed to her—how deep can I dig this hole I’m in.

“Why?” she asks.

“Golfing.”

“With whom? And don’t you dare say you’re in Sedona golfing by yourself.”

“Listen, there are a lot of nice resorts in Sedona. I absolutely could treat myself to a getaway. Massages. Peace and quiet. Golf. Good food. And with Jimmy the squatter at my house, I think I deserve a getaway.”

“You invited Jimmy the squatter to live with you. I’m not buying the ‘poor me’ act. Sorry.”

I roll my eyes. She’s not wrong. But friends don’t punch each other in the gut like that.

“And while I’m not denying that you can’t get away to Sedona by yourself, it doesn’t explain the man’s voice I just heard. And your location doesn’t show you at a resort. It shows you at a house.”

“What if I rented a VRBO?”

I need to bail. The water’s getting too high.

“Did the guy come with the VRBO?”

“Fine! I’m here with Shep. But it’s not what you think.”

“Shep?”

“The guy from the pet store.”

“Dear god, how did you completely fail to heed my warning? I told you to stay away from him and all men. You have a serious problem, Sophie. You’re in Sedona with another guy while you still haven’t evicted the last guy from your house? AND you’re pregnant. What. Are. You. Doing?”

Jules hasn’t met Shep, so she can’t possibly understand Shep World. She doesn’t know that it’s not real.

“Calm down. You’re getting worked up about nothing. We’re golfing. That’s it. Think of him as you or any of my other friends. Female friends. Nothing is going on. Nothing will be going on.”

“Sophie, I love you,” Jules says in the same tone one might use to talk someone down from a ledge, “but you are delusional. I don’t want to tell your family, but you’re being very reckless and irresponsible. Do you see this?”

“Jules, I’m good. It’s golf. That’s it. I have to go, but I promise we’ll talk when I get home.”

“Sophie—”

“Muah! Bye, bae, love you.” I disconnect the call and toss my phone onto my towel before easing my way into the pool and swimming to the edge, resting my arms on it while soaking up the view. This is heaven.

Since nobody knows if heaven is real, I’m inclined to let this fantasy play out. Golfing, friends only, platonic fantasy of course.

“How do you like your fish?”

I turn toward Shep’s voice and his shirtless body with low-riding swim trunks. He has much better abs than my friend, Jules, but I won’t tell her that.

“Cooked. But actually, I’m not a fan of fish.” I am. But it’s on Chloe’s Please Don’t Eat List for me—for her baby.

“Steak?”

I nod. “Well done, please. And can I help you with anything?”

“Nope.” He starts the grill.

I focus on the new view—him—instead of the one behind me. It’s hard to say which is better. One makes me feel at peace. The other makes my head dizzy with inappropriate thoughts.