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Blake purses her lips as if she’s dying to say more. Eventually she just settles for an apology. “Sorry for being pushy, but you’d do the same for me”—she points two fingers at her own round belly—“as the limo-sex baby proves.”
We laugh it off, and then Blake says, “Should we go? I’ve done nothing all day and feel exhausted anyway.”
“The parasites in our bellies are notorious for sucking the life force out of you.” We stand up. “Are you going back to your place or staying at Gabriel’s?”
“Gabriel’s.” Blake holds the juice bar door open for me.
Her boyfriend’s penthouse is a few blocks away.
“I’ll walk with you and take a cab from there.”
We walk mostly in silence. She’s probably giving me space to absorb what she’s told me, while I’m doing my best to ignore her every word. When we stop in front of Gabriel’s limestone building, my bladder is about to explode. “Mind if I come upstairs for a bathroom break?”
“Not at all. In fact, stay for dinner.”
“What? No. It’s Saturday night. Don’t you guys have plans?”
Blake precedes me inside. “Nope, Gabriel texted me earlier saying he wanted a quiet evening in.”
“Which could mean he’s genuinely tired or has wicked plans for you. Either way, I’m sure he doesn’t want a third wheel.”
In the elevator, she pushes the button to the top floor. “You could never be a third wheel. You’re the only reason we’re back together.”
“You’re back together because you’re hopelessly in love with each other.”
“Also that, but I promise, Gabriel will be happy to have you over.”
We step out of the elevator directly into Gabriel’s penthouse.
“Baaabe, I’m home,” Blake shouts. “Marissa’s here, too, in case you had a naked surprise for me.”
“Hey.” Gabriel comes out of the kitchen—fully clothed—but looking slightly flustered. “You’re home early. I thought the shopping would take all afternoon.”
“Yeah, but we got tired, so we came home.”
Gabriel’s gaze shifts to me as if noticing for the first time that I’m in the room. He regards me in a way that tells me he definitely had plans for tonight and they didn’t involve his girlfriend’s best friend.
“Hi.” I give him an awkward wave. “I just need to use the bathroom and I’ll be on my way. Sorry, but the baby is dancing the conga on my bladder.”
“No, Marissa is staying for dinner,” Blake counters.
Undiluted horror crosses Gabriel’s face.
“I’m not staying,” I confirm.
“Yes, you are. Tell her it’s okay, babe,” Blake insists.
In his defense, Gabriel tries. He makes the sweetest, I’m-polite-so-I-can’t-tell-you-to-bug-off-when-my-girlfriend-can’t-take-a-hint face, and says, “Sure, you’re welcome to stay. I’ll tell the chef to cook for one extra person.”
Oblivious to his discomfort, Blake turns to me. “See? No fuss.”
I roll my eyes, deciding to come up with an excuse to leave while in the bathroom. I could say I’m too tired. Or that I don’t want to go home late, or invent some other reason I can’t have dinner with them.
Just as Gabriel is about to set off for the kitchen, Latte strolls into the living room. The house owner does a one-eighty and picks up the cat, quickening his steps as he makes another dash for the kitchen.
“Hey!” Blake yells after him. “Where are you taking my cat?”
“To the kitchen with me?”
