What Lovers Do(86)

She rolls her eyes and pivots. “I’ll give you a day pass from friend code. You can fold up that piece of paper and burn it. Complimenting me at this point is too laughable.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa …” I follow her inside the house and get Cersei’s leash on her. “What happened to perky Sophie? The one who was glowing because she knew her pregnancy was the world’s most generous gift? I’m pretty sure I saw that Sophie a few days ago.”

“She got a good look in the mirror.” Tears fill her eyes.

I try not to laugh. She’s pregnant. She knows that’s all this is. Man … pregnancy hormones are no joke.

“Look …” Her lower lip quivers as she pulls down the waist of her shorts an inch.

“What am I looking at?”

She runs her fingers over an area. “Stretch marks.” When she blinks, several tears escape.

I honestly can’t see what she’s pointing to, so I hunch down in front of her. There are a few purplish squiggly lines. “Sophie—”

“Don’t.” She sniffles. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want you to say anything. It won’t make me feel better. And I know … I know it’s stupid, they’re just stretch marks, but …” She swallows hard and shrugs.

She’s right, my friend code note won’t help me. So I do my own thing. I do what feels natural.

“Shep …” One of her hands threads through my hair when I kiss the purple lines on her lower belly. “What are you doing?” she whispers.

I don’t speak because she was right. There are no words to make this better for her in this very moment. So I close my eyes and kiss every inch of her belly. Then I stand.

Her red-eyed gaze lifts to meet mine.

My thumbs brush along her cheeks, erasing the tears. She pulls in a shaky breath.

“Let’s walk.”

“I can’t reach my feet.”

I grin, knowing that’s not true. “Good thing I can. Sit.” I nod to the entry bench.

When she surrenders, I kneel in front of her and slip her white sneakers onto her bare feet and loosely tie them.

Before I stand, she frames my face with her hands. “If I tell you a secret, promise not to tell anyone?” she whispers.

I nod once, resting my hands on her bare legs.

“Sometimes when we’re together … walking the dogs, golfing, eating lunch … I pretend…” she blinks, averting her gaze “…that this baby inside of me is …” After a few breaths, she looks at me. “Ours.”

Her confession hits me pretty hard. Now … now is when I need to review that piece of paper before I say the wrong thing.

On a nervous laugh, she lifts a shoulder. “That’s stupid, right? Because we’re just friends.”

Yes. Sophie is my friend. A friend who I love. She’s taken up residence in my head and all four chambers of my heart. And my competitive friend doesn’t often show me her vulnerable side. Even if it’s the hormones, I’ll take it. I’ll take this vulnerability of hers and let it open the door for me to have my own vulnerable moment.

“It’s not stupid. Imagination is never stupid.” I peel her hands from my face, keeping ahold of one as I stand and pull her to her feet too. “We walk.”

As we head out the door, I hold the leashes in one hand and keep hers in my other hand.

“Did I guilt you into staying my friend? Has it been hard on you? Watching me, watching Millie with her pregnancy? And be honest. I can handle the truth,” she says.

As I guide the pack and my favorite friend down the driveway, I contemplate how to answer her in truly the most honest way. “It’s been, uh … a mix of relief and hope.”

“How so?”

“When I see Millie, I feel relieved. I think about what it could have been like had she gotten pregnant when we were ‘trying.’ A baby she didn’t really want. Her desperately wanting to have her own career … I would have done whatever it took to make things work. But I don’t think it would have been enough. I think we would have turned into Howie and Caroline. And that sucks. But when I see you, I have hope. You’ve made me a believer in patience. I don’t know what’s in my future, but in the present, what serves me best, what makes me feel like I have purpose is taking care of the people who are in my life now. My family and my friends.”

“Shep?”

“Yeah?”

“Not to change the subject, but I’ve wanted to ask you something. The answer doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“Ask away.”

“Are you rich?”

I chuckle. “Is that a deep, philosophical question? Or are you inquiring about my bank account and investments?”

“The latter.”

“Why?”

She stares at her feet as we cross the street. “Because I’ve been trying to really figure you out since the day we met, and it feels like one of the final pieces to the puzzle.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you solving me.”

She giggles. “I’m not sure that’s possible, but I think I’ve earned full disclosure since I’ve told you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

On the other side of the street, I stop, letting the dogs gather around a street signpost, sniffing until their hearts are content. Facing Sophie, I step as close to her as her belly will allow. “Are you sure you’ve shared all your secrets?”