So. Long(60)

He steps around the island and wraps me in his embrace. “Okay. Friends. Friends that cuddle, friends that fuck. Friends that hold each other through the night.”

My nostrils flare and my eyes sting as I shake my head. “No, Adam. Just regular friends. I can’t be fucking you and trying to find the man of my dreams.”

Now that I’ve said it. Now that it’s out of my mouth and can’t be taken back…my heart screams that I’ve made a terrible mistake.

But it’s done.

I won’t flake out and suddenly change my mind.

Adam tightens his arms around me, holding me together.

He always makes me feel like I’m the only person on the planet he wants to touch—this is what I’ll miss, maybe more than the sex.

Maybe.





EIGHTEEN





I shove the little white stick into the trash and cover it with some wadded up tissue. It’s not like Clarissa could tell anyone, even if she does see it. But I still have this overbearing need to hide my folly.

After brushing my teeth for the sixth time today, I finish washing up. The nausea hasn’t abated. Of course, the two blue lines on that stick prove it’s not nerves, nor is it an awful stomach bug. I couldn’t get so lucky.

Sad when a person wishes for a horrible virus.

I’ve hidden in here as long as I can. Clarissa can’t be left to her own devices for too long. I let out a sigh and open the door.

Clarissa waits in the hallway. She’s got her pink floaty around her waist and her beach towel draped over her shoulders. Her sandals are on the wrong feet, but hey, at least this time, she didn’t get the swimsuit on backward.

I smile, because, at this point, I’ll take any positives I can get. Except the positive on the pregnancy test—that one, I could do without.

She grabs my hand and drags me toward the living room, her grin just about eating her ears.

“I’m coming, Sweetness. Give me a minute.”

Halfway down the hallway, Mom’s unmistakable voice rips through the last vestige of peace I might have hoped for. “At last. What on Earth takes so long for you to get a swimsuit on?”

Does the woman not know how to pick up a phone?

I steel myself to deal with Mom by banishing all thoughts of a baby and Adam from my mind. No time to dwell on that right now.

I paste on a smile and swallow the bitter taste of bile pushing at the back of my throat.

“Hey, Mom. You didn’t call…again.”

Mom waves away my comment.

“I thought I’d stop in. I wanted to see my girl.” She gathers Clarissa into a big hug.

I always find myself waiting for her little eyes to pop out of her head when Mom squeezes her like that.

Clarissa starts to wriggle, so I say, “Mom. Let her down. You’re gonna make her shit herself. And you get to clean it up.”

Mom almost drops Clarissa, steadying her at the last second.

“Sorry, Sweetie. Granna doesn’t mean to hug so hard. I just love you so much.” Mom’s gaze falls on me. “And I don’t get to see you enough.”

“Oh, please. Like that would make you stop squeezing the living shit out of us.”

She lifts her arms, as though she’s showing off muscles she doesn’t have. “It’s all those water aerobics I do at the Old Bitches Club.”

I wrap my beach towel around my waist. “Well, we’re heading to the pool. I’ve been promising the munchkin all day that I’d take her, so you can either go with or we’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Mom’s eyes light. “Do you have a suit I can borrow?”

“A suit? My suit?”

She blinks as though I’m slow. “Of course, yours, silly. I can’t possibly fit into Clarissa’s suits.”

Fuck it. She wants to stretch some spandex to capacity, who am I to stop her? Could be the best laugh of my week, and the Lord knows, I could use something to smile about right now.

Besides, maybe she’ll finally understand what it’s like to be on the receiving end of one of her hugs.

I pull out the only one-piece in my drawer. It’s old, and the elastic is a bit loose, so that might work in Mom’s favor. She heads into the bathroom.

Oh shit. The pregnancy test.

No. It’ll be fine. Mom’s not likely to dig in the trash. Surely.

Mom returns to the living room, sashaying like a runway model. “Don’t I look divine?”

The cleavage bulging over the top of the suit is in danger of busting out like two prisoners running for sweet freedom. Her summer hat flops over one eye, not helping her style in the least.

Clarissa hops up and down. Her excitement to get to the water comes out in the form of a squeal, saving me from one of two unpalatable options. Either lie to my mom or tell her she resembles an albino seal strapped into a rainbow girdle.