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She nods. “Fine. We’re getting the pretzel and finding somewhere to sit.”

We turn back toward the food trucks, weaving between people and vendor tents as I look for the pretzel stand.

Three tents down, a glossy white ceramic planter shaped like a pair of ass cheeks catches my eye.

I slow down.

Ellie notices and catches my arm. “No.”

I look at her. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“You were going to buy the butt planter.”

I glance back at it. “It would be perfect in the studio bathroom.”

Ellie follows my stare, then looks at me again. “You already have multiple things in there. It’s not that big of a space.”

“I could maybe swap something out.”

She gives me a long look.

“I’m just saying,” I add, letting her pull me toward the food trucks. “It fits the aesthetic.”

Ellie opens her mouth to argue with me when a man’s voice comes from somewhere behind us.

“Goldie?”

I tense, recognizing that voice immediately.

My shoulders go rigid, and a hot little wave of oh, for fuck’s sake rolls through me. Unfortunately, giving five years to someone means you don’t forget the sound of their voice even if you’d really, really like to.

I haven’t seen Grant since the day I walked into our bedroom and found him fucking someone from the club he manages in our bed, and apparently my first reunion with the lying, cheating asshole is going to happen while I’m sweaty, pregnant, and craving carbs like nobody’s business.

At least I look damn good.

I glance down at the neon pink crop top stretched across my boobs, the black maxi skirt sitting under my bump, and the platform sandals currently murdering my feet. Yep. Still cute.

Ellie recognizes him too. I feel her arm tighten through mine before we turn around.

Grant’s standing beside a booth selling leather wallets, and the weirdest part is how completely normal he looks. I don’t know what I expected. A hunchback, maybe? A receding hairline? Maybe a really bad case of acne?

But sadly there aren’t any outward signs of karma for his cheating. He still has the same expensive haircut, the same sunglasses shoved onto his head, and one of those crisp white linen shirts he always wears when he wants to look effortlessly put together.

We size each other up.

And then he notices my stomach.

His gaze drops to the bump on display under my crop top, and his lips part. I don’t know if he’s going to say something, but no words come out, and then he just sort of… shuts down.

His face goes completely blank.

Okay.

Not gonna lie, this part’s sort of fun.

I take a sip of my tea while Grant stares at my stomach, giving him a second to catch up.

“You’re pregnant.”