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Still in my second trimester, what I thought would be a walk in the park is turning out to be more like a trip down Agony Lane. My ankles, or should I say ‘cankles,’ have disappeared along with my waistline. The only thing that keeps me sane is Kate. She’s a hell of a lot of fun, tells ridiculous stories about herself and her wild friends, plus she is a great listener.
“So, did the Jerk speak to you today?” she asks, biting into a stick of celery.
“Yes, but it was only to ask me where we kept the scissors in the stationary room. Trust me, it was as formal as any stationary room exchange could be.”
“Then you didn’t tell him about the scan next week? Presley, I can come if you need me,” she offers.
I have learned a very important thing about Kate—she is a great friend. Not only does she listen to me complain about the Jerk for countless hours, she is willing to rearrange her schedule to attend my appointment with me. In all fairness, I spent countless hours listening to the drama unfold with her secret lover. The thing I didn’t get about the whole situation is, why Kate allows this pathetic excuse of a man to manipulate her. She is gorgeous and tall with an athletic build. Her shimmering blonde hair is cut just below her chin, perfectly straightened like she just stepped out of a salon. She has these cute freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose, covering her pale British skin. Plus, she has this cheeky smile with a dimple on the left side of her face.
Yet something about this man, the power he holds, or the fact he’s some secret underground boss, has drawn her in to the point she’s under his bewitching spell and can’t break free.
“I promise I’ll tell him, and thanks for the offer.”
“We have sucky love lives,” she complains, sinking into the couch with the remote.
“Yep, we sure do. What’s the latest on your secret mystery man?”
She lets out a huge sigh. “Nothing. I texted him and asked if he wanted to have dinner tonight, and he never responded.”
“So then, why didn’t you call him?”
“Because he made it clear that he doesn’t date. He doesn’t do relationships. I was just hoping he might change for me.”
“Are you sure he isn’t gay, Kate?”
“Maybe. Who knows? He only wants to screw me from behind. What the hell does that mean? He’s gay, or he doesn’t like my face.”
I give her a sympathetic smile. “Why are you still hung up on him? You can have any guy, Kate. He sounds so—”
“Disinterested?”
I simply nod.
“Because, Presley, the way he makes me feel. Even though he acts that way, when we’re alone, I feel so empowered. He teaches my body to do things I’ve never experienced, and sexually, he takes me to a level that’s beyond words.”
I can sense it in her voice. It’s not love as such but an uncanny connection to someone who’s unattainable.
The next day at work, I decide I need to ask Haden about the ultrasound. Somehow, I chicken out again. So, I text him from my desk to his and throw in the invitation to a last-minute farewell lunch for Clive. Because that’s mature.
Me: I have an ultrasound on Monday at 9am. You’re welcome to come.
Me: Oh, and there is a farewell lunch for Clive today at the diner round the corner. You’re welcome to come to that too if you wanna bang.
He is chatting away to another colleague, and I don’t expect it when my phone beeps instantly.
Haden: Sure why not. And about the bang part… gladly, if you’re offering.
Huh? I scroll back up to my text.
Oh, fucking hell!
Stupid fat pregnancy fingers. Great, now his idiotic man brain is probably playing porn music in the background already.
Me: Hang! I meant hang!! #duck
Me: I mean #FUCK
The bubble appears, and I throw my head down in shame. Serves me right.
