"Come on, Bryn. You wouldn't refuse a pregnant woman, would you?" Ivy blinks at me, the epitome of sweetness and light and my hard feelings at being pushed into something I didn't want to do melt a little.
"You're going to use that excuse as long as you can, aren't you?" Marina asks, rolling her eyes.
I know right then I'll like Marina.
"The entire pregnancy, absolutely," Ivy confirms, smiling. "Bryn, I can tell you're uncomfortable with this, but please. I'm a hormonal pregnant lady who wants nothing more than to have fun today. And having fun means finding you a gorgeous dress and going to the spa."
Just the word spa has dread curling in my stomach. Spa equals expensive. I should know. I've never been to one because I can't afford it.
"You're scaring her, Ivy," Marina says, her voice low. "Stop laying it on so thick. Maybe you should tell her the truth."
The truth? That sounds ominous. But there's no truth to be told, at least not yet. Ivy merely smiles at me, then changes the subject. We talk about everything and nothing while we wait for our food, Marina and Ivy chattering on while I interject when asked. Other than that, I remain silent, drinking in the cute yet hip atmosphere of the café.
Our lunches finally arrive and I dive right in, holding nothing back. I'm freaking starved and usually I eat at home, rarely going out, only because I know hardly anyone. And, since I don't cook, I eat pitiful meals that consist of Lean Cuisine microwaved meals or premade salads I pick up at the local grocery store. After I finish, they always leave me feeling empty and unsatisfied.
Kind of like my life.
Halfway through my sandwich, I realize the other women aren't eating. Glancing up from my plate, I catch both Ivy and Marina staring at me like I'm an alien who just landed on planet Earth.
I slowly chew what's in my mouth then swallow, setting the sandwich carefully on my plate. "Um, do I have something on my face?"
Marina shakes her head. "Do you never eat? Because you're acting like a starved woman."
"I don't get out much," I admit, feeling infinitely stupid.
"Give her a break and take it as a compliment. Clearly she loves your sandwiches," Ivy says, her smile kind.
"I'm not giving her a hard time. I just . . . we don't normally see girls our age devour a sandwich like that," Marina explains.
This makes me feel even worse. I'm an absolute pig. But I eat such crappy meals, and I really don't think a soup and sandwich indulgence will do me any harm.
"Being pregnant is absolute freedom. I love eating without worry." Ivy takes a huge bite out of her sandwich for emphasis.
"You're not pregnant are you, Bryn? That's not your excuse, right?" Marina asks.
I'm horrified at her question. Pregnant? Heaven forbid. "Absolutely not," I say with conviction.
Ivy bursts out laughing, pressing a hand to her chest. "Well, thank goodness. That would've torn our plan to shreds."
Okay. I'm done with the mystery. I feel like I'm their little project, and I don't like it. "What exactly is going on here?"
"What do you mean?" Ivy asks.
"I feel like you've invited me here for lunch under false pretenses." I hate that I'm skeptical of everyone, but I can't help myself. My entire life I've always felt like someone wants something from me. It's made me throw up walls and become ultradefensive.
I have no idea what they're up to and it's making me uncomfortable.
"Just tell her Ivy," Marina mumbles, making me even more nervous.
These women in the Napa Valley are weird. And I thought Hollywood was full of strange people.
"Oh fine." Ivy blows out an irritated sigh. "I wanted this to be a surprise, but you're getting too twitchy. We want to try and pair you up with Matt."
I gape at her. Wait. What? "Are you talking about Matt-as in my boss, Matt DeLuca?"
Now it's Ivy's turn to roll her eyes. "Do you know another Matt?"
Well, I went to school with Matt Short but he's still back in Cactus, running his daddy's welding business last I heard. "But he's my boss," I stress, thinking of another boss I had. The one with the kids and the wife and the wandering hands, the one who literally chased me so fast around his desk we probably wore a path in the carpet.
"So?" Ivy waves her hand, dismissing my concerns. "I think he has the hots for you."
I refuse to let that bit of information spark hope in my chest. Forget it. "I doubt that. I'm his assistant." Who wears drab clothing and tries to be efficient but forgettable.
"So? Attraction is attraction." Ivy shrugs, taking a bite from her sandwich.
I watch her and Marina eat, the both of them completely unaffected while inside my nerves are in chaos. It's one thing to be attracted to my boss and keep my feelings secret.