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“Yes! He ignored me. Stared at his menu. Acted like the most important decision in the world that he had to make was how he wanted his side of eggs. He went with sunny side up, by the way.”
“Oh, honey…”
“He acted like I was speaking a different language, Gwen!”
“Did you tell him about the baby?”
“Well, the waitress left, and I was like, ya know— ‘Say something, already!’ And he said… Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I came all the way up here in Anchorage. What was I thinking? I am an idiot.”
“You wanted to see him face to face. That’s understandable. This is big stuff, Kate.”
I feel so bad for her right now.
My heart aches as I listen to her sob for a minute. I’m not sure if I’m only feeling sorry for her or if some self-pity is mingling in.
That was some outfit Vanessa had on. She sure looked awfully close with Brock.
Kate finally catches her breath.
“Yeah, well, so much for that. I wish I’d stayed home. And now, I’ve got work all mad at me for calling out all week. I might not even have a job when I get home.”
“Oh, Kate… I am so sorry this is happening.”
“I told him I was pregnant. You want to know what that got me?”
I swallow, dreading her answer.
As I expected, she goes on in a rush. “That got me another long, quiet stare. He raised his hand up, one finger to the ceiling, to call the waitress over. She got there and—you want to know what he said? You’re not gonna believe this, Gwen—he asked for more cream, for his coffee.”
“And that was it? After you told him you’re carrying his baby?”
“That was it. I couldn’t handle it. I got up and stormed out. Knocked over a chair on my way out, too. It was by accident. You can bet heads turned. All those grimy fishermen got a good laugh, I bet, once I was gone. And now… now I’m here in this cold, dank hotel room in freaking Alaska, and it’s snowing outside, and—and I’m all alone, Gwen. I’m all alone in the world, and I hate Sawyer.”
“You don’t hate him.”
“Right now, I do. I really do.”
“Everyone processes in their own way. Maybe he just needs more time to?—”
“I told him I loved him, and he ordered freaking French toast!”
“I know… I know. That really stinks. Honestly, that does.”
The sight of Lizzy walking my way makes it difficult to come up with any other words of consolation for Kate.
Lizzy looks… terrible.
Pale.
Shaky.
I utter a few more sympathetic statements to Kate and then manage to get off the line. And all the while, I’m watching Lizzy, who is walking through Shipping at a very slow pace.
“Do you have food poisoning or something? You’re not looking too hot, sister,” I say when she comes to a woozy halt at my desk.
She pins her fingertips to my desk, bracing herself. “I wish I had food poisoning. That’d be a treat compared to what is actually happening.”
“Oh, no. Did someone die?”
