says, nodding, yet his confusion about such simplicity is obvious.
“I don’t know how—you just do it. I’m not the right person to be asking. God, take her to the park or dinner or something. She loves that romantic shit. She’ll be happy.” I cross my arms across my body. I couldn’t be more uncomfortable.
“Ask her?” he murmurs.
“Yep, pretty simple.”
“Thanks, Abs.”
“Don’t toy with me again.”
“I’ll never hurt her.” There’s sincerity in his gaze. “One day, you’ll believe me.”
“Pffft.”
He stands. He pecks my cheek. “Thanks again.”
“Yep.”
Mosby re-enters the house walking backwards, wearing a grin too big for his face. My legs become weak as I stumble, then plonk down on the chair he just left.
Old Ginger is getting a roomy. There you go. I’m in shock. He’s going to ruin her. They all do eventually.
The door opens to the terrace once more and Leza, my old friend from university, hands me a fresh glass of wine. Her manicured nails are painted the same colour as her dusty blue eyes.
“Hi. How’ve ya been?” I immediately skull the contents of the glass. Its sweet fruity flavour is refreshing.
“Great. I think the question should be, how are you?” Leza eyes me with what can only be described as pity, and I stare back at her like she’s got fat since we left university.
God, I hate pity. God, I hate Leza. I hate everything. And I’m no longer a nice person. I’m mean. I’m mean to everybody. I hate myself.
“So how are you?” Leza asks.
“Yeah, yeah good … great even. Sorry I haven’t caught up with you for a while. Busy … busy, not enough hours in the day.” Blah blah blah. “We should definitely do coffee soon.” Or not! I’m rambling. Stop looking at me like that already. “Just doing my thing.” My hands clamp shut tightly into fists. Stop talking, will you?
“Abi …” She pauses. “You look so tired, so vacant.”
“Well, you look fat—.”
“That’s not very nice. She’s just joking, Leza. Of course Abi knows you’re having a baby.”
Oh crap! Sammy. A baby? What? Leza’s having a baby? Why are these fools tying themselves down to men?
“I was joking. She’s stunning. I was just about to tell Leza how amazing she looks. It was a joke.” Scrambling is definitely a strength of mine. Suffering from foot-in-mouth is another one of my pleasant traits.
Placing my hand softly onto Leza’s tummy, I stand. Her belly moves like an alien grows within, pressing hard against my skin. Yuck!
“You’re glowing. Pregnancy suits you.” I squirm, removing my hand as fast as humanly possible. Who would ever want a child?
“I’ve missed you,” Leza says with a wide smile.
“Ditto.” I take a deep breath. Make this moment end.
Sammy helps Leza back inside, glaring at me before closing the door behind her.
“I hate this bloody pretence bullshit conversation,” I spit.
Sammy’s expression softens as she steps towards me, placing her hand on the arch of my back. “Remember we all love you,” she whispers into my ear as she escorts me off the terrace and back into the house.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re going to the media room. It’s important.”
Walking behind her, I can’t help wondering why she would say such a thing.
My mouth gapes open. My vision must be deceiving me. Maybe that glass of wine was laced with something. Ten sets of eyes stare at me with despair or is it disappointment? You’ve got to be shitting me.
“What the actual fuck, guys?” I yell as my fingers press firmly into each hip bone. “Why do I think this little shindig is an intervention for me? Let me see … because there’s a huge fucking sign that says intervention.” I huff, furiously. “Why? Alcohol? Weed? I only smoke occasionally to help me sleep. The curse I live with? It’s real. Do you want me to spend tonight going through the bullshit that has been my life?” I take a shaky breath. “We only do interventions for real messed up issues. Like the time you refused to shave, Leza, for a year.” I point in her direction. She doesn’t reply. “Now, that was intervention-worthy. The time you refused to continue university, Sammy.” My gaze locks with hers. She remains silent. “What about the three months Ange said “righteous” after everything? Those were issues. Those were fixable problems. My shit, my issues can’t be solved. So back off.” I shout, my anger rising. I know my face is red because heat is radiating from my skin, and I’m sweating profusely. It’s not caused by the