“Why? They use good bubbly for their mimosas, unlike some shitty places.”
“Because I can’t drink right now.” I close the menu. “I’m pregnant.”
Kim gapes, then covers her mouth with a hand. “Are you serious?” she asks, her voice hushed. “Is it Nate’s?”
“Of course it’s Nate’s!” How can she doubt me when Nate didn’t? Then I remember telling her I didn’t sleep with him. Okay, maybe she’s a little confused, just like I was.
“Sorry, I thought… I mean, I knew you weren’t dating, but you said your marriage to Nate had to end. I thought that meant a clean break.”
“It’s really complicated…” I trail off as our server appears with a pitcher of citrus water.
As if he can sense we’re in a rather urgent private conversation, he doesn’t spend too much time being chatty. Instead, he introduces himself, asks us if we need more time, pours the water, then takes our lunch order. Kim orders for both of us because I can’t even choose from all the hundred-dollar-plus options.
“She’s pregnant,” Kim tells him. “Can you prepare something special for her, non-alcoholic, instead of the mimosas?”
“Certainly. It’ll be our pleasure.” He turns to me. “Any allergies?”
“No,” I say. “But I really like kale and broccoli.”
“Lovely. I’ll make note of that.”
Meanwhile, Kim looks at me like I’m an alien queen occupying her friend’s body. “Who are you? Or more like, what’s happened to you? You hate broccoli.”
“Yeah, but now that I’m pregnant, I love it. And kale.”
“Oh wow. So you really are pregnant. I can’t decide which is worse: craving canned tuna, or kale and broccoli.”
“Canned tuna?” Just the thought… Ugh. “Who craved that?”
“Some dumb kid in high school,” she says, her voice suddenly cold and edged. It’s her “I want to rip somebody’s face off” tone, and I can never be sure if she’s going to be okay with me probing too hard when she uses it. Best not to go there.
“Anyway, I even had the same shake Nate had this morning,” I say.
Kim shudders. “That’s beyond gross. I’m sure he enjoyed it, though.”
“He did. I was pleased about that. Do you think I’ll get used to the taste and continue to drink it after the baby’s born?”
Pure horror crosses her face. “Good God, I hope not…but I don’t know. I’ve never had a baby.” She props her chin in her hand, her elbow on the table. “So. This baby means no divorce? Barron didn’t pressure you or anything, did he?”
“No, no need to worry. It’s just Nate’s and my decision. We’re going to work things out. And, you know, he really is a great guy.”
“Uh-huh. That isn’t the only reason you’re staying with him,” she says. “I bet he looks even better totally nude.”
My cheeks flame as my mind conjures up what he did to me in the shower.
She points and giggles. “Oh my God. Look at you blush. So adorable!”
“Oh, shut up.” Thankfully, our server brings a mimosa and a green smoothie, plus our salads and an appetizer platter of white fish, smoked salmon, pâté and minced olives.
She picks up her mimosa. “To your happy life with Nate.”
We clink glasses. “Thank you. To a happy ending for you, too.”
She gives me a warm smile, and we drink. As I down the refreshing shake, I remember the thong incident. I put my glass down and lean closer. “Okay, something totally crazy happened at work. Tell me what you think.”
“Sure.”
I go through the story of how I lost my thong in Vegas, and then magically had it delivered to me via one Miles Wellington today. “What do you think it means? This guy actually mailed the thing. Weird much?”