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“No, it’s because his username is StaleBread89.”
Pure fucking relief.
I end up laughing.Shouldn’t have doubted Luna.I feel badly about that, but in this second, I could literally walk on the moon.
Frog scrunches her face at me. “What? It’s notfunny.” She comes in closer and whisper-hisses, “I thought youlikeher. I know I assumed it, but I’m usually not that far off. And she’s awesome. You shouldloveher, actually. She’s that amazing, and she’s way better than you, honestly. Fuck you—”
“Frog,” I laugh, touching my chest. “I’m Wonder Bread.”
Her mouth drops. “Shut up.”
“I’m not basic though.” I can’t even explain anything else yet—my laugh fades and smile vanishes. “They turned left.” For the briefest second, I don’t have my eyes on Jane or Luna, and before I kick myself too hard, we turn and they’re in view.
They’re alright.
I breathe out.
Frog surveys the new lush surroundings and our clients.
We’re in the center of the maze.
Ivy spindles down trellises, and stone benches surround a sculptural fountain, one of a goddess with a bow and arrow. Water trickles out of her palm, splashing in the pool.
Jane is meandering around, taking notes, and Frog does a good job scouting potential exits. I watch Luna sniff a rich orange flower—what I think are mums. She slips a tiny glance my way. It swells inside my chest. I pull my eyes off her to inspect the pathway we just left—but I look back, just as she does too.
As we walk around the center of the maze, the fountain between us, we steal glimpses of one another. Our eyes catch in quiet, tender seconds, and I almost hear music. I like thinking that moments carry melodies, and being with Luna is like listening to the exultant hum of my soul.
I’ll never get tired of the sound.
She begins to smile, but the heartache and longing inside it is tearing through me.
Can’t be together.
I’m working on it.
Then I look to the exit, to Frog, back to Jane. She hasn’t said anything in the past five minutes or so. For someone so chatty, it’s like red skies overhead, warning of a storm. She’s also starting to pace.
Luna sees. “Jane? Everything okay?”
“I think this’ll work…for the cocktail…party,” Jane says, red-cheeked and wincing a little. She’s on her phone. “I mean,hour.Cocktail…hour.”
“You want to sit down?” I ask, my concern suddenly spiking. She’s two weeks from her due date, and to take extra precaution, she had a doctor appointment yesterday just to clear her for this garden-outing.
“I passed with flying colors,” Jane told me with a wide grin like she aced an exam. She patted her round bump like the baby was also an honorary grade-A student.
So I try not to think the worst. Though it wasn’t Farrow checking on her yesterday, and he’s the only guy with an MD that I trust. I run a hand through my hair, and watch Jane’s face contort into a more pained wince. Not good. So not good.
Frog whispers to me, “Is she going into labor?”
Holy shit, I hope not.I swing my head back to one of the seven hedged archways, only knowing the path we came from. What if she can’t walk? I could carry her. Is it safe to carry a womaninlabor? Probably not, I’m thinking.
I run another tensed hand through my hair.It’s not labor. There are a million other things itcouldbe. But any way I toss it,painisn’t a good sign for a pregnant woman.
“Yeah, here, sit,” Luna tries to guide Jane to a bench, but Jane just plops down on the nearest perch: the fountain’s ledge.
She’s tapping at her phone screen, more distressed. “Does anyone have cell service?”
We all take out our phones.
