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Leigh
“You fed me too much,” I groan.
“Excuse me, I did not make you reach for that third slice of garlic bread.”
Squinting at her, I puff my lip into a dramatic pout. “You made it in the first place, therefore it’s your fault.”
She rolls her eyes as she picks up our plates from the coffee table.
“Need any help?”
“If you move your butt off that couch, I’m gonna kick it. Rest.”
I hold my hands up. “Fine. Sorry for offering to help.”
“You’re pregnant. Keep growing my nephew. That’s your only job.”
“Nephew, huh?”
”Essentially.”
Guilt trickles into my stomach again, making me nauseous. I know I need to talk to Nick, but I’m—well, I’m a massive chicken, if I’m honest. So, what do I do instead? Stalk all his social media, obviously.
I open Instagram and go to his profile. What do I see? A picture of him and Rae smiling happily, heads resting together.
“That little hussy!” I yell, causing Maia to stop in the middle of loading the dishwasher.
“Who are we talking about?”
I stick my hand up straight so she can see the picture. “Rae! I can’t believe this. Do you think there’s something going on?”
She looks from the picture to me then back again. Just when I think she’s about to tell me I’m crazy, she says, “No.” Then she hastily turns back to the dishes.
Hold on. What the hell was that?
I lift my pregnant ass off the couch and make my way into the kitchen. “What was that? Do you know something?Isthere something going on?”
There couldn’t be, could there? With all those messages he’s been sending me? How he told me he wasn’t giving up… there can’t be anything going on there.
“I’m not saying there’s anythinggoing on. I’m just saying they’ve been hanging out.”
Well, that’s it. No more chickenshit behavior. I’m going to get my man.
“Take me to Nick’s,” I demand.
Maia’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“Take me to Nick’s. I need to see him. Actually, take me to Abuelita’s first, so I can get my stuff.”
She tries but fails at stifling a smile.
She has no poker face whatsoever.
Happily shutting the dishwasher, she wipes her hands and says, “Let’s go.”
We slide on shoes and coats, grab our purses, and head out the door.
Once we’re in the car, I start ranting. I’m ready to go claim my man. He’s mine. I’m having his baby, for God’s sake!
