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Meredith snorts through a mouthful of soup.
“Shit, sorry,” I say, leaning over the table and helping her dab away the dribbles down the front of her shirt.
“Don’t be. He is a prick. Doubly so for not calling me back.”
“Does he owe you money? Honest truth, I used to be that guy, and on behalf of all men, I want to say I’m sorry.”
She cocks her head and studies me for a second, biting her lip. “If only it were that simple. No, I need to talk to him about…well…to have the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had.”
And to think I was about to ask this woman out on a date. She’s clearly going through some pain, and here I am, trying to think of how to worm my way into her heart.
I need therapy.
“I should go. Is there anything else you need while I’m here, Meredith?”
I’m about to rise from my seat, but something in her gaze roots me to the spot. It’s pure loneliness. I know that look well; I’ve seen it enough in the mirror.
Suddenly, the phone rings, startling us both.
Meredith cuts her eyes to the screen on the table and sucks in a sharp breath. “It’s him.”
And that’s my cue. “I’ll leave you to it.”
But as I stand and am about to exit, Meredith reaches for my hand.
“Wait!”
What is it? Is she going to throw up? Pass out?
Meredith speaks so fast I barely have time to process what she says. “I could use a friend to sit next to me while I have this conversation.”
I drag over my chair so it’s right next to her and sit my ass back down.
She gives me the bravest, most terrified smile I’ve ever seen on anyone.
“You got this,” I say, though I do not know what she’s “got.”
Meredith blinks at me, and her throat bobs. She takes my hand in hers, then swipes the phone screen to answer the call.
“Hi, Chad. How are you?”
She places him on speaker, and I listen, pained, as the two exchange stilted pleasantries. How is Mexico? Great. How’s the newspaper? Good.
“Listen, Chad. The reason I asked you to call me is…well…I have some news.”
“’ Kay,” he answers, and the noise of surf in the background reminds me of what a colossal dick this guy is. I silently pray for a seagull to steal his ice cream. Or for him to step on a scorpion.
I study Meredith’s face, and suddenly, I know what she’s about to tell Chad. Maybe it’s how her breathing has shallowed and quickened or how she’s chewing nervously on her bottom lip. I just know.
Again, her throat bobs. “Chad, I’m six weeks pregnant. And you’re the father.”
ChapterFour
Meredith
I hold my breath for so long while I wait for Chad to respond that I might pass out from lack of oxygen.
It’s only when Nate gently squeezes my fingers that I remember to breathe.
