Wrong Question, Right Answer (The Bourbon Street Boys #3) - Elle Casey Page 0,88
at how crazy this scene is. And I’m smack-dab in the middle of it.
Ozzie catches my eye and nods at me. It fills me with warmth to know that he’s not angry about it. I don’t know why I expected him to be, though I suppose this means I’m definitely on a desk for the rest of my pregnancy. Even I know better than to risk my health now. I guess my body’s going to be doing double duty with these babies, so I might as well get used to the idea of sitting my butt in a chair.
“It’s a little early in the day, but why don’t we go upstairs and have a celebratory drink?” Thibault suggests.
May raises her hand up high and everybody looks at her. “I’ve got fresh-squeezed orange juice,” she says brightly.
Ozzie grabs her in a hug and kisses her right on the mouth in front of everybody. “Good job, babe.” He looks at all of us. “Come on, let’s go upstairs. We can have a drink while we talk about the day ahead.”
Everybody waits for me to go up the stairs first. I know it’s completely stupid, but it makes me feel special, like I’m some kind of royalty in this place. It’s the first time since I found out I was pregnant that I’ve felt maybe it won’t be completely horrible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Desk duty really isn’t as awful as I expected it to be. For the past several weeks, May has been with me more often than not, and she’s gradually lost some of her crazy enthusiasm and settled into an almost normal personality. In fact, today, she’s especially calm. It makes me suspicious. Almost paranoid.
I should probably leave well enough alone, but a conflict-free life has never really been the track I’ve run on. “What’s wrong with you?” I’m leaning on the arm of my chair, looking over at her as she stares at her video. I know she can hear me, but there’s no change in her expression. “Hello? Is anybody in there?”
She shakes her head. “Nothing’s going on. I’m fine.”
I watch her for a while longer, pretty sure I see unshed tears shining in her eyes. I take one of my earbuds and swing it out at her, causing it to land on her arm.
She shrugs it off.
That’s when I know there’s something really going on and that it’s probably nothing minor. Do I want to get involved? No. That’s an easy question to answer. Should I get involved? That’s the harder question. I hem and haw over it silently for a little while, knowing that once I open this can of worms, the situation’s going to squiggle and squirm and probably get slimy. Oh well.
“Something’s wrong. What’s up? Maybe I can help you.”
May shakes her head. “No, you definitely cannot help me.”
I actually find that a little offensive, but I try really hard not to lose my temper because I am in helper-mode right now.
“Maybe I could. You should try me.”
May shakes her head. “No. I just need to figure this out on my own.”
“Ah-ha! So, there is something wrong . . .”
May looks at me, a hint of mutiny in her eyes along with some tears. “You wouldn’t understand.”
My voice softens without my meaning for it to. “You should try me. I’m actually a pretty understanding person when I put my mind to it.” I have no idea where that statement came from. These baby hormones are seriously messing me up.
She shakes her head, an actual tear falling from her eye. “Not this time. You’re too good-looking.”
She’s mad because she thinks I’m pretty? This makes no sense whatsoever.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” I say. “I’m about to get really fat and probably blotchy and pimply too.” I’ve been reading my pregnancy books.
“It doesn’t matter how pimply or blotchy you get; your babies are going to be gorgeous. How could they not be with you and Lucky as the parents?”
I smile, knowing this can’t be the reason for her distress, but distracted by her mention of Lucky. “I know, right? He thinks he can grow a stupid beard and he’s suddenly going to be ugly.” I shake my head. “Men.”
I glance over at May, expecting to see her mollified, but all she does is act angrier.
“What? What’d I say? What’s the big deal about Lucky’s beard?”
May slams her hand down on the cubicle desk. “It has nothing to do with Lucky’s beard!”