Presley: No matter what the doctor says, you have me.
Me: In freaking Tennessee!
Presley: I have a spare bedroom.
Me: Over my dead body!
No freaking way am I going to Tennessee. She’d have to drug me to get me to live there. I love Presley, but it’s not for me. It’s gorgeous and has picturesque landscapes and beautiful homes. But the main reason I won’t move there is because there are no Starbucks. The second, which is an equally compelling reason, is named Wyatt Hennington. His Southern drawl, insanely tight ass, and honey colored eyes turn me into a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl. I clearly have no self-control when it comes to him. What my best friend doesn’t know is that it wasn’t just the one time that I found myself in his bed. No, I’m the idiot who went back for round two, only to have it end awkwardly.
Presley: Bet Wyatt would let you use his bedroom.
I roll my eyes. She’s like a damn Yenta trying to marry me off.
Me: No. I’m back with Nate.
Presley: Since when?
Ohh, like this morning when he called and asked me to dinner. Maybe this will get her to stop pushing Wyatt.
Me: It’s very recent. You never know, we could hit it off this time.
Presley: Right. The last time worked out sooo well. He’s not your type.
Me: He’s a good guy. We go out to the same places, and neither of us like eating alone.
Presley: Oh, please. You don’t even like him!
It’s true. I don’t like him enough to ever marry him, and he’s god awful in bed, which is why we’re not ever going there again. But he’s sweet, likes the same restaurants as I do, and we get along. He’s a cardiologist at the Children’s Hospital and works insane hours. So, we only see each other sporadically.
It works for us.
Presley: And they say romance is dead. Are you sleeping with him?
Me: Nope. I’m trying out this whole celibacy thing.
Presley: That’s comical. Looks like Wyatt ruined you, huh?
Me: He wishes! It was good but not great.
I’m so full of shit. It wasn’t just good. No, it was the absolute, hands down, most un-freaking-believable sex I’d ever had. The kind that ruined me for all eternity. Where any man who even comes near me won’t hold a candle to the things that man did to my body. He played me as if I were his personal instrument. Every touch, every kiss, every swipe of his glorious tongue was done just to please me. I don’t know how I managed to walk out of there. He rocked my world and then was gone before I woke.
Not all of us have these epic love stories like Presley does. She fell in love with Zachary Hennington when she was still in the womb, I swear. They were kids, figured out they were each other’s lobsters, got engaged before college, and then broke up when Zach got a chance to play pro baseball. He took a contract and left Pres without a backward glance. That was when she met my brother. Todd loved her the minute he laid eyes on her. I threatened to disown him if he thought about it. I was not about to lose my best friend because my brother somehow screwed up. Regardless of my threats, which I thought were very convincing, they ended up married with twins.
Then Todd destroyed everything.
I still haven’t forgiven him for committing suicide, and I hate myself for that, but now I have a void in my heart that won’t ever be fixed because of what he did. He was my best friend and he took himself away without any answers.
My phone buzzes after a few minutes.
Presley: Sorry, I had to help Zach. I love you, Ang. You’re going to be fine. I’ll be waiting for your call.
Me: Love you more. I’ll call with the fated news.
Presley: Dramatic.
I giggle as I hear a knock on the door.
“All right, Angie. I ran a quick test to check your iron, which is a little low, but easily fixable. Your sugar levels are fine, and we’ll send the rest of your blood work out. However, that’s not what has you as sick as you’ve been.” He looks up, and I freeze.
Tears form as I know the news he’s about to deliver. “You found something in my blood or is there something else?” The muscles in my body clench as I try to smother the fear that’s choking me. “Something abnormal?”
The doctor steps forward with a warm smile on his face. “Relax, Angie.”
“Please,” I plead. “Please just say it!”
“You’re pregnant.”
My jaw gapes as I try to reconcile the words he spoke. “What?”
“You’re pregnant,” he repeats.
No.
No, no, no. Nope. I refuse. I can’t be pregnant. I’ve only had sex with one person in the last six months. Jesus Christ.
I shake my head back and forth trying to unhear the words. “I had my period!” I finally shriek. “Last month! I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t had sex with anyone in months! The test is confused. You’re confused.”