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She bit her lip and wiggled in her seat.
“It’s Drayven Harding,” she shouted out. Covering her mouth with both hands as if she just let out a giant secret.
“Wait, Drayven Harding. Your brother’s bodyguard?” I asked in complete disbelief.
How did she manage that?
“Oh Quinn, he’s super sweet and a total gentleman butsosexy in that rough and rugged Norse god kind of way!”
I laughed, remembering Weston’s two favorite bodyguards. They really did look like they came straight out of Viking mythology. They both sported scruffy beards and always wore tight black t-shirts that hid nothing of the bulk of muscles they carried.
She was fanning herself with her ring finger hand.
“Looks like this got here just in time,” said Jerri. She dropped off our two ice-cold Arnold Palmers. “Now, what can I get you ladies to eat?”
“I’ll have the special, Jer. Hold the pickle.”
“Ooh! What’s the special?” Lucy asked.
Jerri smiled at her and raised an eyebrow playfully. “Round here, the special means you get what I bring out. Could be soup. Could be a Reuben. Could be Frito pie. You get what you get…”
“And you don’t throw a fit!” The customers close enough to hear all finished in unison.
“You heard the people,” Jerri said with a beaming proud-mama smile.
Lucy loved the challenge. “Well, in that case, I’ll have the special, and please don’t withhold the pickle!” She said, touching her tummy.
“You got it, sweetheart.” Jerri left our table, yelling to the cook to whip up two more specials.
My eyes stayed on Lucy’s hand that didn’t move from her stomach.
“Lu-cy,” I said slowly. She bit her lip again.
“I told you we had a lot of catching up to do.” Her smile was even bigger now. My eyes widened at the sight of my friend, wondering how I missed such an important detail.
“Congratulations! How many? How far along?” I stumbled, trying to ask the right question.
Lucy chuckled and said, “Just one. Thank Goodness. And I’m thirteen weeks today.” Both her hands went up to her tiny belly.
“Oh, Luc! That’s so exciting! You’re going to be an amazing mom.” I grabbed her hand and held it in mine. Lucy was always so loving and maternal. She was a natural mother.
“Wait, but you’re headed to wine country. Why?”
“Wedding venues. I’m meeting Dray and my parents out there. You know them. They can’t just let me have a shotgun wedding and become a barefoot and pregnant wife in peace,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Of course not.” Her parents were some of the showiest people I had ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Her father was the worst of them. Always doing things in front of the cameras so the entire world could see. For someone who ran a global private security firm—he wasn’t very private.
“I have an amazing idea!” she said. “You should come with! Oh Quinn, it’ll be just like old times. Quinn-a-linn and Lucy Lu take wine country.”
She created a sign with her hands as if it was a movie poster.
“I don’t know.” I hesitated. “What would your parents think? I’m sure they don’t think the best of me after I ditched my job at their company without a two-week notice.”
She waved her hands, “That’s history. They don’t remember the people that work for them now. Do you really think they’d remember you working for them years ago? It’s a non-issue,” she stated.
Jerri showed up with plates full of juicy roast beef, crushed golden potatoes, and garlic butter-smothered green beans. The smell was like heaven. Lucy’s plate even had a quartered pickle next to the meat.
