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I have my own opinions on alcohol, but this is just daft. I signal for the bartender’s attention. “Can you get me a glass of water, please?”
“There’s no need…” Clara protests, but I hold up a hand.
“It’s fine. It’s free, anyway,” I smile at her. “Take your time having it, and then you see if you’re ready to go back.”
“Okay,” Clara presses a hand to her stomach, audibly swallowing. “I’ll do that.”
Her gesture has me looking more closely at her. The last time I saw Clara was near the beginning of my horrible collaboration with Anna and Eric as their wedding planner. She had been a little uncomfortable then, constantly giving the happy couple strange glances. She had been slimmer back then, but now her stomach was looking a little rounder. Not too obvious, but it was enough to notice.
Then the penny drops. “Forgive me for asking, Clara, but are you pregnant?”
Clara’s eyes widen. “What? But how?”
“You don’t want to drink champagne, you’re looking a little green around the gills and your stomach is slightly bigger than I recall.” I hold up a hand, “I don’t mean it to be rude, but you’re…”
I now feel a little uncomfortable with the way Clara is staring at me. Then her face falls and she shifts around to face the bar, bowing her head as the bartender places a glass of water in front of her. She gives a little sniffle, and I realize that she’s in tears.
“Oh, Clara, I—I’m sorry.” I hesitate, unsure whether to touch her for comfort or leave her alone. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean any offense…”
“No, it’s nothing to do with you.” Clara sniffs and lifts her head, using the heel of her hands to rub away the tears. “I am pregnant. I’m about four months along.”
“I see.”
I don’t know if I should say congratulations or not. From the way Clara is reacting, it doesn’t seem like a happy thing. Also, I’m sure that Clara is single. Maybe she had a bad break-up? It’s not often that I’m tongue-tied.
Clara gives me a wry smile as she picks up the glass of water and takes a sip. “I can tell by your face that you don’t know what to say. I don’t think it’s a ‘congratulations’ moment, either.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. I got myself into this situation, and now I’m stuck.”
I find my own stomach is turning into knots. Reminding myself that I haven’t eaten since the night before and I’ve only been living off fizzy drinks, I lean against the bar and try to cover my own discomfort. Thank God I’m wearing flats.
“Does the dad know about the baby? Is he aware?”
“No, he doesn’t know. In fact…” Clara sighs and shakes her head. “Gosh, I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this. You’ve got your own problems going on here. Anna keeps talking about how clever she was to snag your boyfriend, and I know she’s going to rub it in your face here.”
“I can handle it. It’s nothing I haven’t been through before,” I shrug. “Not in this exact circumstance, but close enough.”
Clara regards me thoughtfully. “I don’t know how you agreed to be her planner. She’s so disrespectful.”
“I got my payment upfront. And her dad knows how to keep her in line.” I decide to ask a question that I’ve been wondering about. “May I ask why you are friends with Anna? You and the other bridesmaids seem to be quite nice people. Not the type of people I would expect to hang around someone like Anna.”
“There are times when I wonder why I’m friends with her as well. We were friends at school, and we kept in touch over the years. Not that difficult, seeing how much she posts on social media,” Clara takes another gulp of water. “She used to be nice, really cool. I don’t know what happened to her. Things changed after her parents divorced. Maybe it was her mom’s influence; Natalie is cool like her dad and Anna… Well, let’s just say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
She speaks the truth, and it makes me feel a little better that I’m not the only one who thinks the same about Anna. But I felt that to myself.
Clara pushes her glass toward me. “I’d better get back to the others. I think I can cope.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods earnestly. “I’m sure. You’d better have a drink yourself. You look like you’re going to keel over.” Clara gives me a gentle smile as she eases herself off the stool. “You’re going to keel over before I do if you’re not careful.”
“Are you sure you want to go back in there?” I ask, hoping she’ll say no.
“I’ll be fine. I need to be here.”
Her choice of words makes me curious. “You need to be?”
