When Stars Collide (Second Chance Romance #2) - Sara Furlong-Burr Page 0,8
who’s my size for a change?” I held the blouse up against my body, much to Jo’s consternation. “I have a suit coat that would have looked good with this in a size small.”
“I could, but then I would have to start dating midget waifs with no tits.”
“I prefer the term vertically challenged, and I’m amused that this passes as dating to you.” I chucked the blouse at Jo, who caught it mid-air, her eyes widening.
“Damn it.”
“What? It won’t fit you, either?”
“Hardy har. No, it’s just that, if she left this here, then she’s still wearing my favorite hoodie.”
“So, call her.” I threw my purse on the kitchen counter and picked up a piece of paper with a telephone number scribbled on it in lipstick.
“Are you crazy? That’s exactly what she wants me to do.”
“Is it now? You don’t say.” I held back a laugh when I saw the completely serious expression on her face. “Then maybe you just need to quit being so damn delightful.”
Jo grumbled something under her breath as I examined the handwritten note, punctuated with a heart instead of a period. Now, wasn’t that just all kinds of cute?
“Look on the bright side, at least you can’t get what’s-her-name pregnant, so there’s a perk. No little bundles of joy nine months from now.” I smirked, catching sight of Jo rolling her eyes while she pretended not to hear me. “And speaking of what’s-her-name, did you happen to get the identity of your latest conquest this time?”
Jo paced the floor in a huff, one wisecrack away from throwing a tantrum. “Yes, I know her name.” She looked me square in the eyes, probably already surmising that I held that valuable piece of information in my hand.
“And?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I glanced from the paper to Jo and back again.
“M-Mary.”
I shook my head.
“Brooke?”
“Try again.”
She threw her hands up in the air, reaching her frustration limit. “Gertrude.”
“Really? You know you’re losing, so instead of giving it one last college try, you break out Gertrude? I’m thoroughly disappointed in you.”
“Hey now, my grandmother’s name was Gertrude.”
“Which makes that whole exchange even worse.”
“So, is it Gertrude or not?”
“It’s Madison.” I threw the scrap of paper at her, watching it float in the air before landing gracefully at her feet like a feather.
“Huh.” Jo bent down to pick up the paper, promptly crumpled it up, and threw it in the trash bag around her wrist. “No wonder she got pissed when I called her Julie.”
I shook my head. “Lesbians.”
“You damn heteros and your attention to details.” Smug, she returned to tidying up the rest of our apartment. “Speaking of heteros, how’s my buddy Monroe doing? It’s his turn to come here in a couple weeks, right?”
As much as Jo could love anyone of the male persuasion, she adored Peter; and he, her. Sometimes it felt like they had been separated at birth. They even looked oddly similar. Jo was tall with the same shaggy, dark hair and light turquoise eyes. The only thing she was missing was a nose that was just slightly disproportionate in size to the rest of her face.
“It would have been, but a recent development has caused us to make a change in our plans.”
Jo dropped the trash bag and bounded her way over to where I remained standing in the kitchen. A comical scene, considering she wasn’t the bounding type.
“Tell me everything.” She positioned herself on a stool at the countertop, resting her elbow on the Formica, her hand planted squarely on her cheek.
“Peter wants me to meet his son, and since he has him every other weekend and I can’t make the trip next weekend, we decided that I would fly out there in three weeks.”
“Whoa.” Her eyes widened. “That’s big, Mena.”
“I mean, it’s an important step. It’s Peter’s son—his whole world. But I figured it would happen eventually. As a matter of fact, I would have been a little offended had it not, you know?”
“Mena a mother. Will wonders never cease?”
“I am not a mother,” I corrected her. “Jackson has a mother. To him, I’m just his dad’s super cool, blindingly beautiful girlfriend.”
“Sure, until you’re his stepmom.”
******
I lay in bed that night, waiting for Peter to call me. After dropping out of college, he’d accepted a position at a plastics factory, where he made buckets and other forms of containers. He’d always meant to go back and finish his degree in engineering, but then Jackson was born, and his priorities changed overnight.