by Elle Casey
I ignore what sounds like an insinuation and change the subject. “Can I come with you? To work today?”
“Sure.” She disappears down the hallway. “I’m leaving in an hour!”
“I’m ready now!” I yell back. “I’ll be in the living room reading!” My face warms at the idea of meeting with Charity later today. Now I just have to figure out what I’m going to do for six hours before our appointed time.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
THE DAY DRAGS. COLIN IS just on the other side of the office wall, but I refuse to allow myself to go look at him. Not only am I trying to convince myself that I don’t care about what he does, I’m also just a little worried that I might drool on myself if I see him bent over an engine with his greasy hands and muscular arms at work. I’m better off just keeping this barrier of concrete between us.
I finish all of Teagan’s filing and then get on the extra computer she pulls out of a cabinet for me. “Here, make yourself useful,” she says. “I need a spreadsheet for all of the expenses on this project.” She hands me a file that’s about an inch thick, filled with receipts.
I have the project done in half an hour. I use the next hour to make the most tasteful adoption flier I can come up with using the free software that came with the computer.
“Can I print something here?” I ask.
“Just email me the expense file from your yahoo account or whatever,” Teagan says, not looking up from her work.
“Okay. But that’s not what I want to print.” I log-on to my internet email and send the spreadsheet to Teagan using the address on the business card she handed me earlier.
“What is it you want to print?” she asks, looking up at me.
I turn the computer around so she can see. “Flier.”
She squints her eyes and then scoots her chair closer, reading out loud from my screen. “Desperately seeking woman wearing blue headband, driving a mini-van, with grocery cart full of baby food.” She looks up at me, frowning. “Are you insane?”
I turn the computer back around and try to ignore my first instinctual reaction, which is the desire to hit her over the head with the laptop. “No, I’m not insane, thank you very much.” I gather my unruly hair into a ponytail and smooth the sides down until there are no more staticky fly-aways.
She puts down the pen that she’d been holding and leans back in her chair. “What’s going on with this whole flier thing?”
“I told you. Charity, my pregnant friend, wants to give her baby up for adoption.”
“What’s that got to do with headband lady?”
It galls me that I have to tell her, but I know she’ll give me crud and tell Rebel all my business and probably Quin too if I don’t satisfy her curiosity. It’s like living with my mother all over again, only with frequent cuss words added as extra decoration.
I sigh long and loud so Teagan will know I find her constant interrogations irritating. “If you must know, I met her at the grocery store, and I know she wants to adopt a baby, but I didn’t get her number. So I’m just trying to find her again.”
“She’s a stranger you met in the grocery store? How do you know she’s not a wack-a-dong nutball baby killer?”
I feel a little sick over that question. Teagan does have a tiny point. “She didn’t strike me as nuts. Her headband was really nice.” I realize how lame my own words sound, but only after they’ve left my mouth.
Teagan crosses her arms over her chest. “I’m about to say something you’re not going to like.”
“Again?” Gripping the arms of my chair hard enough to make my knuckles go white, I grind my teeth together. I can’t say anything else because I’m too mad. She’s going to blab about whatever it is that’s on her mind and short of running out the door, I’m about to hear it.
“I’m not sure you’re the best judge of character right now.”
I stand up all of a sudden. “If you’re talking about Colin again, you can just stop.”
The soft tone of her voice takes me by surprise. “I’m not talking about Colin.”
I frown at her, my body relaxing just a little. “Oh. Well, who are you talking about, then?”
Her gaze drops to my belly and she says nothing.
It slowly comes together for me, and I instantly feel sick to my stomach. “How dare you.” I lift a trembling hand and point a finger at her. “You have no right.” My voice is barely above a whisper. She is so lucky I don’t have any fingernails left.
Teagan just keeps on daring, though, because she is a mean, jerk-face, busybody, awful person. “Whoever he is, he must be a serious asshole, for you to feel this way about not telling him he’s fathered a child.”
I leave the office before I can be arrested for committing murder. My legs move quicker than they have in a long time, fueled by my rage and indignation.
How dare she judge me. How dare she express disappointment in me. Like she knows anything about me or my life or Charlie and what he did. Ugh. I just need to get away and get some fresh air.
“Alissa! Wait!”
Oh, God! Not now! I pick up the pace.
“Liss! Wait! Hey! I need to ask you a question!”
“Leave me alone, Colin! I need some fresh air!” My breath comes in gasps and my fat legs churn up the miles. Well, the feet anyway. Possibly inches. God, I’m so out of shape.
He’s at my side in seconds. “What’s up? Did Teagan piss you off?”
“Of course she did. Isn’t that was she does best?”
“She is pretty good at it.”
I won’t smile at him. Who cares if he’s charming.
“Where you going?” he asks.
“None of your beeswax. Go back to work before you get fired.”
“It’s my lunch break. How ‘bout I buy you a burger?”
“No. I’m not hungry.” I’m halfway to the meeting place with Charity. My stomach has a hole in it and I can feel the shakes coming on. That burger is sounding better and better with every step. I imagine I can smell the grease from here and I want to take a bath in it I’m so hungry.
“Bull puckie. You’re eating for two and you haven’t even had breakfast.”
“Yes, I have.”
“What’d you eat?”
I roll my eyes. “Food.” I think about it for a second and realize that I didn’t eat anything. I was too excited about meeting with Charity to focus on breakfast.
“Liar. Come on. There’s a double burger, a fish sandwich, and a chicken wrap with my name on it in there. You can get whatever you want, on me.”
“You eat enough for three people,” I say, impressed with the fact that he’s so perfectly in shape regardless of all those calories going into his system on a regular basis.
“Have to. How do you think I’m able to keep up my fighting weight?”
I don’t bother answering. Part of me wants to lecture him and tell him he needs to stop worrying about being good at fighting and start worrying more about being good at painting and relaxing … finding that peace Rebel talked about … but I don’t do it. I don’t like being lectured so I’m sure not going to do it to him. Especially when he’s offering to buy me a burger. My stomach growls like an angry hyena.
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Buy me a burger. But don’t harass me.”
“Harass you? When have I ever harassed you?” He’s laughing at me.
“Every time you’ve ever opened your mouth in my vicinity,” I say petulantly. I’m not being fair to him, but I can’t seem to be a good person right now.
“Yes, ma’am. I promise not to harass you the whole time we are dining together.”
“We are not dining together,” I say as he opens the door to the restaurant for me and I precede him inside. “We’re just having a burger.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you say.”
I finally smile as we walk up to the cash registers. I’m kinda liking the whole ma’am thing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
COLIN IS SITTING ACROSS F
ROM me inhaling food. He’s not picky about what’s going in that mouth of his. Bit of burger, hunk of chicken, a pile of french fries, lint from the table; he’s like a giant food vacuum. I hang onto my tiny kid burger with a tighter grip, just in case.
“What?” he asks after swallowing a lump of food that would have challenged a Great Dane.
“You eat like you’re starving to death.”
“I am.” He wipes some ketchup off his lips and smiles. “I haven’t eaten in three hours.”
My heart flips over. He looks like a little boy enjoying his meal. I want to smooth down his unruly hair and kiss him lovingly on the cheek. Gah, my mothering instincts have apparently kicked in.
He gestures towards my burger with the next pile of fries that he’s squeezed between his thumb and forefinger. “That’s not enough food right there. You’re starving yourself.”
“No, I’m not. For your information, my stomach only has so much room in it when a baby is using it as a pillow.”
He winces. “Ouch.”
I nod. Finally, I’ve got some understanding from someone.
“What else is going on in there?” He shoves the fries into his mouth and chews while he waits for my answer.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what other things are happening to your body that are different?”
I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to read his expression. I see nothing but curiosity there.
“Hello?” He smiles at me and snaps his fingers in the air between us. “Are you lost?”
I shake my head. “No. Just trying to decide if you’re mocking me or setting me up.”
He shakes his head and smiles a little. His expression looks kind of sad, in way. “I’m not doing either of those things. I’m just asking a simple question because I want to know the answer.”
I shrug. “Well, if you really want to know, there are lots of things going on.”
“Like what?”
“Like … I have cankles.”
“Cankles?”
I hold out my foot a little so he can admire the puffy view. “Yeah. That’s where your ankles get so swollen that you can’t tell the difference between them and your calves.”
He looks under the table. “I can tell a difference.”
“Liar. I also have spots on my face.”
He frowns as he stares at me. “No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Look.” I point to my cheek and lean closer. “It’s called the mask of pregnancy.”
“If you say so.”
“And, I have a dark brown line going right down the middle of my belly, from stem to stern.” I nod with satisfaction. That one will get him good.
He puts his chicken wrap down. “Say what?”
“Yep.” I’m still nodding. “Big old brown line. It’s probably permanent.”
“Get outta town.” He wipes his hands off on his pants and licks his lips, grabbing the bit of lettuce that was sitting there.
“No, I’m serious.”
“I want to see it.” He leans over sideways so he can look under the table again.
My hands fly up to rest protectively over my belly. “No. No way!”
“Yes, way. Come on. I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to get me to feel sorry for you.”
I snort. “As if. I don’t need you to feel sorry for me.”
“Then show me the line. Unless you’re just making stuff up because you think I’m stupid enough to believe everything I hear.”
“No, I don’t think you’re stupid. But it’s true. I have a line. A big line.”
“Prove it.”
My jaw sticks out. “I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“No, you don’t, that’s true. But if you want me to believe these ridiculous stories you’re telling, you’re going to have to ante up.”
I roll my eyes as I toy with a fry. “You really don’t want to see it, trust me.”
“No, I really do. Trust me.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I consider my options. For some ridiculous reason, I want to show him the line. I want to not be the only one outside of the clinic who’s seen it. Plus, there’s some weird voice in my head telling me to get naked with Colin. It’s getting louder every day.
“Come on, you know you want to show me,” he says in a sexy voice.
I laugh. “You are a serious freak, you know that?” God, it’s like he can read my mind. My ears are burning.
Up next in his attempt to persuade me is his pitiful baby face. It’s quite powerful. “Please? I’ve never seen a brown line before. Heck, I’ve never seen a pregnant belly before.”
“Seriously?” I’m not sure I believe him. He’s been with so many girls…
He nods. “Dead serious.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “If you want to see it so bad, you can see it.” I’m really embarrassed, but I turn sideways in my seat and lift up my shirt a little.
“What is that?” he asks, leaning over and touching the top of my pants. I have maternity jeans on and the cotton panel in front is covering my bulging belly.
I slap his hands away. “My pants, dummy. Don’t touch.”
He laughs once. “Those are some high pants, Melvin.”
I pause in my undressing. “Excuse me, but if you’re going to mock the belly, you will not be permitted to see the belly.”
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Not mocking the belly. Could be mocking the pants though.”
I look down at them. “They are intensely ugly, I’ll admit. But they’re way more comfortable than regular jeans that cut me in half. I have to push those down below my belly and they slice right into me.”
“Can’t have that. So where’s this mysterious brown line, eh? All I see is pants everywhere.”
I can’t look at him. I’m about to expose one of the most private parts of my body and I’m in a fast food restaurant. Thank goodness it’s too early for the normal lunch crowd. I reach up under the rest of my shirt and grab the top edge of my pants. “Brace yourself,” I say. “It’s going to be ugly.”
I pull the top of the panel down and expose my belly to the cool air of the restaurant. It makes the hair all over my body stand up with shivers. I’m staring down at the bulging skin of my stomach, noticing the line has gotten even darker than it was before. Dammit. It’s going to be black soon.
“See? Told you so. Brown line.” I look up, expecting him to be nodding in appreciation, but instead I’m staring into the face of a ghost.
His mouth his hanging open and he’s staring at my belly.
I yank up my pants and pull my shirt down quickly, my face flaming up red. “Told you it was hideous.”
His expression makes him appear as if he’s still in shock. His voice is strangely flat. “I want to see it again. I didn’t get a good look.”
Scowling at him, I turn back to face my food and pick up a fry. My appetite is gone, but I’m going to pretend it isn’t. “Shut up.” I put what tastes like cardboard into my mouth and chew mechanically.
“No, I’m completely serious. One more look.” Now he sounds way too animated.
I can’t help but laugh. “That sounds creepy.”
“Sorry. But seriously, show me one more time. I promise I won’t say a thing.”
I shake my head. “Nope. Show’s over.”
“I didn’t see the brown line.”
“You are such a liar.” My smile is coming back, bit by bit, like it or not.
“No, I’m not. I didn’t see anything but white. Lots of white.” He’s back to grinning.
“Nice.” I shake my head. “Mock the fat girl. Good plan.” I crumple up my garbage and start to throw it into the bag my burger came in, but Colin stops me with his hand over mine.
“You are not fat. Why do you keep saying that?”
I pull my hand away because the warmth makes me uncomfortable when combined with his sincere expression. “I can’t even fit behind the wheel of a car ri
ght now.”
“But that’s because there’s a baby in the way, not fat. Why are you so mean to yourself?”
Tears rush to my eyes and I have to act very busy with the remnants of my meal to keep them from being too obvious. “I’m not mean to myself. I’m just being honest.”
“That’s not how I see it.”
“Well, maybe your perspective is off.”
“Nope. My perspective is perfect. I’m an artist. You’re pregnant, you hardly eat, you’re retaining water because you don’t get enough exercise and because you’re pregnant, but none of that makes you fat. You’re beautiful. Pregnancy looks good on you.”
I nearly choke on that word. Beautiful. I have nothing to say in response to his outrageousness. I desperately want this to be the truth, but just the same, I desperately know it’s all a lie. What I can’t figure out is why he’s bothering.
“Show me the belly,” he says. “One more time, I promise I won’t call you fat.”
“You never have,” I say, my voice not quite right. He’s never said anything unkind to me ever. I realize in this moment that he is the nicest person I have ever met in my whole life. As tough and as mean as he can be to other people, he’s never been anything but a prince to me. The apocalypse must be coming. Nothing makes sense in this world as it is right now.
“See? I’m a safe bet. Just a peek. If you don’t, I’m going to have to Google it and then things could get ugly.”
“Google it? What? Google my belly? I’m not on Google.” I frown at him. Now he’s just being silly.
“No, I’ll Google ‘brown line on pregnant belly’. Do you know the weird shit that will come up if I do that? I’ll be scarred for life. Not every woman has a gorgeous bump like you do. Just show me.”
I’m flattered beyond reason. I can’t think straight. He’s called me beautiful and gorgeous all in the space of five minutes. I know he’s a world-class charmer and a player of the highest degree, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like a complete nincompoop. My head is spinning and my hand is already moving towards the bottom of my shirt.