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Ivette wraps her arms around my bunched shoulders. “Remind me again why we’re anti-loving CJ?
Still being stubborn despite my inner thoughts, I scoff, “Because what would a relationship or God forbid marriage between us look like?” I mumble into my palms. “When I’m forty he’ll be thirty-one and when fifty he’ll be—”
“Forty-one. Yes, I know. That’s how math works. He’ll always be nine minus whatever age you are.”
Smug bitch.What was her mom like when she was pregnant with her, I wonder.
“Why am I even friends with you?” I ask shaking her arms off me. I flop back on the couch and slouch in the most unattractive way.
“I ask myself that daily. But we are despite a ten-year age difference, we’ve managed to make it work. Why can’t you and CJ?” Is life that simple when you’re in your twenties? You just ignore the obvious issues and jump head-first into love?
“Yep,” she says popping the ‘p’.
I frown at Ivette. Can she read minds now?
“Your pregnancy brain made you speak out loud.”
“Pregnancy brain doesn’t make you speak out loud. It makes you forgetful. And it’s too early for that anyways.” Awesome comeback, Velma.
“So you forgot to keep your inner thoughts… in. And Irina always said you were an overachiever.” Ivette shrugs then turns her light green on me, her voice dropping low. “You love him… you know you do. And have from the beginning. The Velma I know doesn’t let strange men kiss her, let alone for the whole town to see.” She chuckles and then continues. “The wonderful thing is that he loves you… and you know that as well. It doesn’t much simpler than that. If you’re looking for more or better, you won’t find it.”
“Yeah,” I whisper wiping a tear from my cheek.
Ivette envelopes me in a bear hug then pats my belly with a giggle.
“Now that we’ve got the heavy stuff out of the way— can I make your wedding cookies?”
Ivette runs a cookie business on Main Street, or as we call it Orchard Road. It runs from the highway, around the communal orchard, and straight through town to the mountains.
Her cookies are the softest and moistest ones you’ll ever taste. Being as tender as they are you’d think they’d crumble as soon as you bite into one but they stay intact, ensuring no piece is lost to the ground.
“Of course. Who needs cake when you can have cookies… with icing.”
We laugh, in good spirits as we head into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Hopefully, my stomach wasn’t playing a sick game and will cooperate this time.
Ivette helps me fix some sandwiches and we settle back down on the sofa. My eyes drift over to my unusable two-seater dining table covered in quilting supplies. CJ. has brought so many scraps it’s ridiculous. Every piece of fabric we come across means something to him. I did draw the line at my panties though, because…gross. My favorite is the apple squares. They make me feel cherished and as if he’s really laying down roots in Coldwater by embracing our weird apple fetish.
As we eat, Ivette and I plan my wedding… because yeah, I’ve given up fighting, fully accepting, and loving the fact that I’m about to marry a man nine years— no. I’m about to marry the man I love; age has nothing to do with it. Technically he hasn’t officially asked me yet and doesn’t know about the baby but I can feel a Christmas proposal coming— along with an “I’m pregnant” announcement. Luckily Christmas is tomorrow and we don’t have to meet with my parents until the evening.
We’re halfway done with lunch when a knock on the door sends my heart racing. It’s him. I haven’t spoken to him since last night when he showed up at my door with soup. I told him I was still sick and didn’t want to give it to him.
Lies. I had taken the test and was reeling from the results. Hell, I didn’t call Ivette until this morning. I couldn’t talk to anybody. Now CJ is at my door.
“Want me to answer it? You know who it is.”
“No, I don’t know who it is, Ivette. I can’t see through walls. You seem to think I know everything. You know this and you know that. That’s all I’ve heard from you today.” When did bitch become my second language?
“Well, I was taught my elder knew everything. I see in your case that isn’t true.” Seriously how awful was her mom because Ivette is a terror. “Stop glaring at me and open the door before someone calls the sheriff.”
She’s right about someone calling the sheriff. CJ. is banging on the door loud enough to wake the dead.
After a couple of calming breaths, I rise to greet the father of my child and my future husband. On my way I pass by the tree he made me get and smile. My apartment wasn’t Christmas enough for CJ. It’s not like I dislike the holiday I just feel like it’s for kids. But since I’m having one I better up my game
“Hey, baby. What are you doing here? I thought I wouldn’t see you till tonight?” I casually ask. Damn, he looks good in his khaki pants and blue polo, the words C. R Veterinary Clinic embroidered across the chest.
CJ gives me a funny look then shakes his head and pushes his way inside.
He draws me into his chest and then pushes me at arm’s length still holding my waist. “I went by the office to see you but they said you had called out for the week. What’s going on Velma? How sick are you and why didn’t you call me?” Hazel eyes roam my body, looking for signs of distress and I instantly feel like shit. I’ve been avoiding him all morning and he’s walking around thinking I’m seriously ill.
