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We both admitted our little escapade was a mistake. Better to get away from each other. I haven’t heard from her or seen her since that day in February.
I shower at the hospital, check in with my office, then head to meet Noah for dinner. He’s in town to check out some space. A few of his restaurants are doing well, and he’s considering expanding into the Houston market.
Noah is a couple of years older than me, but he’s one of Oliver’s good friends. He’s one of the few people from Whispering Creek I keep in touch with.
He meets me with a fist bump. A tattoo on the inside of his wrist is rimmed in red.
“New ink?” I ask.
He grins. “Yep. Life’s changing. Gotta mark it.”
We approach the hostess stand together, but he does all the talking. For someone who’s gone through some serious shit this past year, he seems pretty damn happy. I wasn’t exactly expecting a chatterbox.
Noah’s never said anything to me, but I heard all about his wife cheating on him from Oliver. Sounded like a nasty situation.
We take our seats, order beers, and he bumps his knee against mine. “Sorry, man.”
We both immediately adjust so our legs aren’t so close.
“So, did you hear the news?” he asks.
I shake my head and lift the menu. Since Anguilla, my conversational skills have taken a nosedive.
“Sandra’s pregnant.” His eyebrows rise as he rocks back in his chair. “Yep. Can’t believe Ollie didn’t tell you. No one knows who the baby daddy is.”
I do some quick back-of-the-envelope math in my head. She has to be barely pregnant, and she already miscarried once. I can’t imagine she’d tell anyone right now. This entire story smells of bullshit.
“She told you?” I clarify.
“Nah. According to Jocelyn, only a handful of people know.”
“You and Jocelyn still talk?” That idea is confusing to me, but I’m still grappling with determining the validity of this rumor.
“We’ve made progress,” Noah says nonchalantly. He lifts the menu and studies it, like that’s the end of the conversation.
I don’t want to know more about him and Jocelyn. If he’s getting back together with his cheating wife, that’s on him. Oliver didn’t tell me much about Noah’s bullshit because I didn’t care. Apathy works wonders for developing sanity. But no, something’s not right.
“This sounds like bullshit.” Noah jerks back, evidently surprised by my tone. I don’t give a damn. “Sunny isn’t close to Jocelyn. Why would she tell her?”
“She didn’t. Jocelyn heard it from Kara, or maybe Marissa… I don’t know. One of them. Apparently, she tried to hide it, but she’s been wickedly sick with morning sickness. Like she had to break down and admit it because she was canceling on clients and couldn’t be at the salon in the morning.” He relaxes and leans forward on the table.
Our waitperson delivers our beers, and he lifts his and sips. I leave mine on the table.
“At any rate, you’re right.” He shrugs. “Who knows if it’s true? But word has it there was a pregnancy test in the trash. And then, you know, the sickness. That sickness is weird. I don’t think Jocelyn was sick one day. But apparently it hits some women hard and not others. It’s a good thing we don’t get pregnant, right?” He grins and holds up his drink as if he wants to clink glasses.
She’s fucking pregnant with my child, and she didn’t even fucking tell me.
The waiter stops by and asks if we’re ready to order.
“Can you bring me a bottle of Patron?”
Noah’s eyebrows meet his receding hairline.
“Feel like doing some shots?”
He doesn’t agree to shots, but he also doesn’t disagree. The waiter sees a chance for a big fucking tip but possesses the moral integrity to ask if I drove.
“Nope. Walked. Live right over there,” I say, pointing in the direction of my apartment building.
