“Do you even know what she looks like?” probed Sarah.
“Now how would I know that, given I’ve never met her?” I pulled my best “don’t be an imbecile” face and took a sip of the water, bracing for something horrible. “Hey, this isn’t bad. Refreshing, actually.” I pulled the glass away from my mouth to inspect it for weird objects swirling inside like sea monkeys. Not seeing anything unusual, I took another swig, enjoying the flavor.
“You’ve never seen a picture of her?” Sarah ignored my antics with the water.
I wasn’t the type to check out social media to find out what people looked like. “Nope.” I rubbed my chin, feeling a hair that needed plucking. I tugged at it. I scratched it unsuccessfully. “Ethan showed me a picture of the kid, but not the wife.” I wondered if Ethan had a pair of tweezers with him. I knew for a fact that he carried fingernail clippers. Would that work?
“What’s the kid look like?”
I whispered, “She’s black.” Then flashed my only joking smile. Sarah knew their child was black; she also knew I didn’t give a hoot about race, color, creed, or any other hoopla.
Sarah laughed. “You’re impossible. And completely self-involved.”
“Oh no, not that one again.” I winked.
“You’re in a good mood, considering.” She ran a finger up my thigh.
“Considering you nearly killed me today with your announcement.”
“Come now, it can’t have been that much of a surprise. Do you remember when we purchased the house—the real estate lady and I kept searching for a house with a nursery, and one that was close to a school.” Sarah looked smug.
“I thought you meant a nursery for plants, and you teach high school—how was I supposed to put those clues together?” I leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.
“Careful, you two, you might scare the homophobes.” Ethan’s voice was louder than normal, slipping into the Southern accent that he typically tightly controlled. A woman sitting nearby pursed her lips, looking downright insulted that Ethan had classified her as a gay basher.
I stood and gave Ethan one of my best “man hugs.” Hugging or touching people, besides Sarah, made me extremely uncomfortable.
Ethan stepped to the side and motioned to his wife.
I had expected Ethan’s wife to be frumpy, considering all the conversations he and I had engaged in about him not wanting sex with her. He hated body fluids, which made sex an uncomfortable obligation for him, rather than something he enjoyed. Knowing that, I assumed his wife would be ugly as sin, a woman desperate to have a partner, any partner, in her life. I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
I nodded at the stunning, slender redhead who stood before me. Back in my single days, I would have made a complete fool of myself trying to impress Lisa.
Ethan must have sensed my thoughts, because he flashed me a knowing smile.
Sarah came to my rescue. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Lisa.”
Sarah, who had no issues with hugging or bodily fluids, threw her arms around Lisa, who was about three inches taller, and gave her a welcoming squeeze. I shifted awkwardly from side to side before putting my hand out for a handshake.
Lisa didn’t seem insulted at all; she almost looked as if she expected me to be ill at ease. Ethan had prepared her well, no doubt.
I motioned for the waitress, so we could place our drink orders. Sarah ordered two bottles of wine. “I’ll be on the wagon soon, so why not?”
“Did you know that on the wagon comes from the days when they hanged people in England? Prisoners were allowed one last drink on the wagon that transported them to the gallows.” I smiled, proud of my ability to share such a fascinating and random historical tidbit.
“I take it you dropped the bomb,” said Ethan matter-of-factly.
“What is that supposed to mean?” I directed my question to Sarah.
“Only you would refer to having one last drink before being hung, today of all days.” Sarah patted my cheek tenderly. “And to answer your question, Ethan: yes. We told her this afternoon.”
I whipped my head around to glare at Ethan. “You knew!”
Ethan was nonplussed by my accusation. Over the years, he’d become quite used to my idiocy.
Sarah shook her head at me before turning to Lisa. “You have the most stunning hair. Oh, how I would love to have hair like yours.”
Lisa blushed. “I’ve always wanted straight hair. We should trade. People don’t know how hard curly hair can be.”
“It takes her hours to get ready each morning.” Ethan tsked, but his eyes beamed as he admired his gorgeous wife.
Again, I wasn’t expecting that. He obviously loved her. For years, I’d thought he was a miserable man trapped in a horrible marriage; now I knew it was his aversion to fluids that drove him mad, not his wife. Maybe I had been too self-involved. Maybe I still was? How could I not know this about my best friend?
I picked up my menu, disappointed with the selection. I wanted simple, like bangers and mash from my favorite restaurant in Fort Collins. I was excited to see they offered mac and cheese until I saw it came with lobster. Why would I want lobster with mac and cheese? Could I order the mac and cheese and ask them to hold the lobster? No, Sarah would not appreciate that. I opted for the filet mignon. It sounded fancy but essentially was just a hunk of meat with roasted potatoes on the side.
Sarah actually ordered the mac and cheese with lobster and I was relieved I didn’t make an ass out of myself by saying, “Hold the lobster, please” like a child. Ethan followed my lead and had the filet. Lisa ordered short rib tacos.
“Oh, I saw Bobby Flay make red chili short rib tacos just the other day on the Food Network, and they looked divine,” said Sarah.
I tried not to roll my eyes when she said divine.
“So how did Lizzie take the news?” Ethan grinned.
I could tell he was bursting at the seams to humiliate me.
“Oh,”—Sarah flashed me a devious smile—“as expected. She fainted.”
Lisa looked concerned, but Ethan immediately burst into a gale of laughter. Sarah joined in, encouraging Lisa to finally push her concerns aside and laugh along.
I had never enjoyed being the center of attention, especially when I was the brunt of the joke.
My chair scraped the tiles as I stood, somewhat dramatically. “Ethan, let’s go out for a smoke.”
“Lizzie! You don’t smoke,” exclaimed Sarah, who occasionally smoked but quit for good recently—right around the time she cut me off from sugar. Were those clues I missed?
“Didn’t you tell me the other day that I should pick up some new hobbies? No time like the present.” I stormed off.
Ethan joined me outside after a few moments. I sat on a bench in the middle of Old Town and observed the full moon, which illuminated the dark as if we were in a creepy Hitchcock film. The sky in Fort Collins always seemed endless, because no tall buildings obscured the view. I remembered being in New York City a few years back, feeling trapped by the skyscrapers.
Even though it was a beautiful spring night, the town center was deserted, giving me the heebie-jeebies. On occasions like this, I always wondered if the apocalypse had happened without my knowing.
“So, you’re going to be a mommy.” Ethan pulled out a cigarette and handed me his pack of Marlboro Lights. I didn’t intend on actually smoking…but on second thought, why not give it a go? Ethan bowed slightly to light my cigarette. Inhaling, I waited for the coughing fit, given that was what happened in the movies. I didn’t cough; instead, I whacked my chest as if I had a neurological tic.
Ethan placed one foot on the bench and leaned closer. I stared up into his eyes, inquisitive behind his thick glasses.
“I guess so,” I replied.
He sat next to me and slid an arm around my shoulders. “I know you’re freaking out, and you’re trying hard not to, considering your past with Sarah.” Etha
n gave me a squeeze. “What you’re feeling is normal. Give yourself some time.”
“What happens if I don’t change? How can I do this to a child?” I sucked on the cigarette and then whacked my chest again.
Ethan chuckled. “I’ve never seen anyone have that reaction to smoking for the first time before.” He blew out a perfect smoke ring. “I know you, Lizzie. You’re stubborn, selfish, and annoying.”
“Thanks for kicking me while I’m down, buddy.”
“I wasn’t finished. But, deep down, all of those qualities are for show. You’re a loving person and you feel weak when you show your true self. You need to learn that’s not a weakness but your greatest strength.”
I sat there, speechless. The silence was killing me. “Wow, what’s in these cigarettes?” I pointed it at him. “Because that’s the biggest crock of shit I’ve heard in some time.” I tried to laugh but couldn’t.
Ethan ignored my childish attempt to avoid the heart of the matter.
Both of us sat motionless except for our hands, smoking and admiring the moon.
Finally, Ethan stood. “We’d better go back in. Not sure we should leave our wives alone for too long. Who knows what they’re plotting?”
As I walked back in, I saw the worry in Sarah’s eyes. Ever since we had got back together, I sensed she was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop—for the old Lizzie to reappear and take over for good. The look in her eye was like a swift kick to the shin.
Ethan, being the perfect Southern gentleman, pulled out my chair. “Well, now. I think Lizzie is a natural at smoking.”
Sarah leaned over and sniffed me. “You did have a cigarette!”
“Today marks a new beginning.” I raised my wineglass. “To getting pregnant!”
Sarah almost fell out of her seat, but she quickly recovered and grabbed her wineglass, clinking it to mine with “Cheers.”
Ethan gave me an encouraging smile and Lisa looked puzzled. I wondered what Ethan had told her about me.
“So how does this work?” asked Ethan, immediately turning three shades of scarlet. “I mean, whose egg are you using?”
I stopped myself from making a joke about Ethan not knowing the first thing about the birds and the bees, considering his troubles.
“Lizzie’s egg, of course.” Sarah glowed with happiness.
“I heard getting an egg extraction hurts like hell,” Ethan said. “More than actual labor.” He winked, but it didn’t put me at ease.
“Hey now, don’t discourage her, Ethan.” Sarah swatted his arm as if they were lifelong friends, even though I could count on one hand how many times they had interacted.
I tugged on my shirt collar, feeling stifled and, to be completely honest, terrified. Lisa noticed. I couldn’t discern whether she felt sorry for me or for the child.
My child.
Our child.
Shit.
How did this happen?
Looking at Sarah’s face I knew how it happened. I loved her more than I thought possible. And no matter what, I was determined to love our child.
Later that night, Sarah opened a bottle of champagne she had put on ice before we left for dinner. The woman was always prepared, yet it still amazed me. Cold nestled over the city, and I lit the fireplace to combat the nip in the air. We sat on the sofa near the fireplace, with Sarah huddled against my chest, sipping the bubbly.
“Thank you, Lizzie.”
“For what? Lighting the fire?” I was enjoying the extra pizzazz that pomegranate seeds added to my drink.
“No. For keeping an open mind. I know I took you by surprise today.”
“I’ll say. It’s been a while since I fainted.” I rested my chin on her soft chestnut hair.
“When was the last time? Yes, when we signed the mortgage papers. Later that night you had the worst panic attack, and then—boom!—out cold on the floor.” Sarah chuckled over the memory.
“Hey, you don’t have to enjoy the memory that much.”
Sarah sat up, gazing into my eyes. “Besides the minor incident today, you’ve handled it much better than I thought you would. You actually seem open to the idea.”
“I’m not sure if I’m there yet.”
Sarah pulled away from me.
“Wait, don’t do that. Come here.” My arm over her shoulder pulled her back. “I love you, and I would do anything for you. But you have to understand: I need time to get used to the idea. I have inner demons to battle, mainly my own crappy childhood. I won’t lie. I’m petrified.”
“And that’s exactly why I think you’d make a great mom. You’re scared of letting your child down. Not many people feel that way in the beginning, or ever.”
“Well, most people don’t have our luxury.”
“What do you mean?”
“We get to plan when we want to get pregnant. No oopsies. I imagine most parents are scared for different reasons.”
“I had thought of that—getting pregnant and then telling you.”
“You wouldn’t dare! Would you?” Even to me, my voice didn’t sound confident.
“Unfortunately, it’d be hard to get one of your eggs without you noticing.” She peppered my neck with soft kisses.
“Are you sure you want my egg? Who knows how my genes will play out?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll use mine for our second child.”
I shot off the couch. “Second child!” My heartbeat skittered like a trapped animal.
Sarah sat on the couch, a mystifying look on her face; then, the most beautiful smile illuminated her eyes, and all of a sudden I felt calm.
“That’s my girl.” Sarah drained her champagne. “Now take me to bed. Let’s put your nervous energy to better use. Enough baby talk for today.”
Chapter Two
Since finishing my PhD a few years ago and being technically unemployed, I had woken up early every day, including Sundays. I wasn’t the loafing type, not even after I quit teaching. Once I acquired my doctorate, I concentrated on my true passions: research and writing. I published my first book within the first year of not teaching, and I was working on my second. As much as I had loved teaching, I enjoyed researching and writing more. And my trust fund allowed me to do just that.
By five each morning, I was itching to hop out of bed. That morning, Sarah was dead to the world, as usual. She taught high school English, a frustrating and draining job, so I didn’t want to disturb her. I knew how much she loved sleeping in on Sundays.
By the time I got on my bike, the sun was making an appearance. The birds were already announcing the start of a beautiful morning. The chill in the early spring air gave me instant goose bumps. No matter, within ten minutes I’d be warm and riding along Poudre River on my favorite bike trail. Not many people were out, so I felt like I had the river to myself. The water gurgled on my right, and on my left I could see a fox scurrying off to bed. Frost speckled the wild grass, the sun illuminating each strand and making the ice glimmer like gold. Only in nature did I feel this relaxed. Not once had the baby issue popped into my mind. It was as if yesterday hadn’t happened. All I felt was tranquil.
I didn’t notice much of anything—until I realized I was pedaling past Laporte High School. Glancing at my watch, I saw that it was still early, and I was famished. I decided to head up the road and pop into Frankie’s for breakfast. The diner’s claim to fame was having the best cinnamon rolls in Colorado, and I agreed wholeheartedly.
After locking my bike outside, I slid into a booth in the back. The waitress was obviously a morning person—or was damn good at pretending she was. Her dishwater brown hair was piled high on top of her head in an old lady bun. Makeup caked the cracks of wrinkles, and her leather skin clocked too many hours in the sun.
“What can I git ya, sugar?” Her raspy, smoker’s voice belied the youthful flicker in her eyes.
“Tea and a cinnamon roll, please. Oh, can I also have a big glass of ice water?” I s
hook my empty water bottle.
“Sure. Looks like you can use it. Are you riding through the canyon after this? Now that the weather is warming up, we’ve seen loads of bicyclists and motorcycles.”
I almost shouted yes, but then thought better. It was tempting. I loved riding in the canyon, but I knew that if I avoided Sarah today, of all days, she’d flip out.
“Nah, I’ll head home after this. Too many things to do today,” I lied. I had nothing to do. Maybe I’d take Sarah to Denver to catch a foreign flick and then head to Sixteenth Street for dinner. I was still adjusting to not being in school. Sure, researching and writing was demanding, but my schedule was mostly determined by me now, not by professors. I enjoyed the freedom. Occasionally, I was invited to colleges and conferences to speak, which satiated the teaching bug that reared its head from time to time.
The waitress nodded and waddled to the beverage area to prepare my tea and water.
I thought I felt my cell phone vibrate in my pocket. Surely I was imagining it. Who in her right mind would be calling me this early on a Sunday? Just to be safe, I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, I had a text message from Sarah. Odd—usually she called.
“Where are you?”
I texted that I was at Frankie’s, having a cup of tea.
“I’ll meet you there.”
I read the text a couple more times. Why was Sarah up this early on a Sunday? Did she think I was freaking out about yesterday? Actually, I was feeling pretty smug about it. Sure, I had fainted, and then almost fainted again when she mentioned using her egg for our second child, but other than that, I was handling it pretty well. For me, at least.
I told her I was fine, not to worry, and I’d be home soon.
Again, she texted that she was on her way to meet me at Frankie’s.
Wow. And she said I had trust issues. Jeez Louise, I only went out for a bike ride, like I did every other day of the week. I wasn’t freaking out. And I didn’t like the insinuation that I was. So in the past I hadn’t handled things all that well. Okay, I had tried to sabotage my relationship with Sarah by attempting to seduce Maddie, who was not only my friend but also my brother’s fiancée at the time.
A Woman Ignored (A Woman Lost Book 2) Page 2