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‘Not at all,’ Samantha said.
‘But is that any reason to marry him?’ Hugo continued.
‘Not at all!’ Samantha repeated, this time with feeling.
‘Do you think she’s pregnant?’ Jasmine asked.
‘No,’ Samantha said, happy to confirm this fact. ‘I asked her point blank.’
Hugo went back to studying the menu. ‘Then I don’t get it.’
Jasmine paused a beat. ‘Do they have a prenup? I know it’s a delicate question.’
Samantha winced. ‘I don’t know if we can get into that.’
‘Oh, we’ll get into that,’ Hugo said. ‘We’ll get into all of that!’
Samantha was weary. Naomi had pushed back hard when she’d suggested there might be some reason, like a pregnancy, for the rushed wedding. But maybe if the three of them sat her down, expressed their sincere concern, things could go more smoothly.
The drinks arrived. From tropical cocktails they would move on to sushi and poke bowls. Hugo had already put in a dessert order for a chocolate soufflé. Their meal was a mash-up of cultures, just like Miami and, to some extent, themselves.
Samantha, Naomi, Jasmine and Hugo were all a mix of this and that, born into suburbs where immigrant populations overlapped. Naomi’s parents were from Trinidad and Tobago, one from each island. Jasmine’s mother and father were from Haiti and Canada, respectively. Hugo was Brazilian, born and raised in the outskirts of São Paulo. His estranged father, however, was originally from Germany. Samantha’s British family could trace its lineage back to the Victorian era, but her mother was Black, her father white.
‘I think we should take Naomi out one night, just us, and have it out,’ Samantha proposed.
‘You think so?’ Jasmine said absently. She was busy snapping a photo of her cocktail glass stuffed with mint leaves.
‘Absolutely!’ Samantha replied. ‘She’s our girl and we have to look out for her. I’d want you to do the same for me.’
‘Good to know,’ Hugo said dryly.
Samantha looked from Hugo to Jasmine. Their expressions were unreadable. She understood that she’d walked into a trap. For a while there she’d been foolish enough to believe her friends intended to respect her boundaries.
Jasmine stirred the ice in her glass with the sugarcane swizzle stick. ‘If you broke up with the love of your life and carried on as if nothing had happened, you’d want us to sit you down and get to the bottom of it?’
‘If he were the love of my life, sure,’ she said. ‘Since he’s not there’s no point.’
‘You wanted to marry the man!’
‘Not really.’
‘You have five Pinterest boards organized by wedding theme!’ Jasmine cried.
Samantha tightened her fists under the table. She should have made those damn boards private.
‘The point is,’ Hugo said, ‘you can’t drop a bomb on us and not expect to talk about it.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about. It was the most anticlimactic break-up of all time.’
‘That’s what shocks me,’ he said. ‘You two were like couple goals.’
Samantha wasn’t buying that. Hugo was happily married and Jasmine was in a solid relationship. There were plenty of #couplegoals to go around.
‘You showed more emotion when my cat died,’ Jasmine said. ‘And Brigitte was very, very old.’
‘But she was very, very cute!’ Samantha squealed.
Hugo tossed aside the menu. ‘This is going nowhere.’
