“But that Nova is like . . . well, it’s your first baby.”
“Exactly. And we’re coming up on a year since . . .” Her voice is soft and heavy with emotion. “So much has happened, and I don’t know. The Nova was the only thing I ever did that I’m truly proud of. Just driving it and listening to music, it was freedom to me.”
This all makes sense now. Jonah was her savior, swooped in, took her from her hell, and saved her from a life worse than death. But not everything about her life was horrible before him. She loved her independence, and that car signifies all she accomplished on her own, gave her a sense of purpose when she had none. I love that Jonah wants her safe, but it’s just like a man to disguise control in the name of protection.
“You still have the keys, right?”
She nods and sniffs back tears. “Yeah, but I promised Jonah I wouldn’t drive it. But, Eve”—she turns to me—“you know he’s never going to let me drive that car again. He’ll never let me take the baby in it.” Her voice cracks. “God, I’m sorry. I must sound like such a whiner.”
“Not at all.” I push her hair off her shoulder and tuck it behind her ear. “I totally get it, but I say fuck it, take the car out for a spin if you need to, just around the block.”
“He’d be so pissed.”
“Not if he never found out.”
She directs a tiny smile at me. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“So . . .” I push a color swatch toward her. “Lavender. Not pukey and unisex. If it’s a boy you can add chocolate brown, a girl you can add pink or white.”
She picks it up for a closer look and then nods. “It’s perfect.”
We make sandwiches for lunch, and Layla stops by to give her color suggestions. She’s been in a funk lately after her friend Mac disappeared. The cops investigated and said because she apparently left a good-bye note and there was no sign of foul play they had to conclude that she left because she wanted to, but Layla swears something’s wrong. She cries all the time. I blame the pregnancy hormones.
“She’s right.” Layla squints and purses her lips. “It’s barfy. Although, in the right light, it looks a little like the color of a Twinkie.”
“Exactly.” I point to Layla. “Twinkie vomit.”
“Mmm . . . a Twinkie sounds so good right now.” Raven rubs her pregnant belly.
Layla gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, it does.”
I look back and forth between them as they sit in their own little junk food fantasies. “Hello?” I snap my fingers and get their attention. “Jeez, you two sound like stoners.”
“Mmm . . . munchies.” Raven’s smiling, and from the look in her eye, I’d guess she’s imagining every piece of furniture in this place is some form of snack cake.
“You know what? Forget it. I say go blue. Just commit. You know Jonah’s got some seriously testosterone-dominated sperm. It’s a safe bet.” I’m so exhausted with this conversation. I never knew pregnant women could be so neurotic.
“That’s what I’ve been telling her.” Jonah lopes into the kitchen and ruffles my hair as he passes by on his way to Raven.
“Why don’t you guys just find out the sex? Save yourselves from the unisex color debacle,” Layla says.
“I saw the ultrasound.” Two dimples carve into Jonah’s cheeks. “We’re having a boy.”
“That was the baby’s umbilical cord.” Raven shakes her head.
“Hey, I know what I saw, baby.” He pushes his wife’s hair to the side and kisses her neck.
The front door opens, and Mason comes strolling in wearing workout shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut off. “What’s up, ladies? Whoa—you workin’ on girl shit in here?” He eyes the scattered decorating paraphernalia.
“Trying. What do you think, Mase?” I flip him the piece of fabric, and he snags it out of the air. “What does this color remind you of?”
He squints at it then tosses it back to me. “Barf.”
I turn wide eyes to Raven, eyebrows up. “My job here”—I bow from the waist down—“is done.”
“Baywatch and I are going to play some b-ball.” Jonah kisses Raven’s cheek. “Oh, who’s going to the Fourth of July deal this weekend?”
Mason nods and Layla raises her hand then drops it.
Jonah eyes me. “Eve, you going?”
“Why would I go? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“It’s a UFL deal. You should come.”
Butterflies explode in my stomach. UFL party? That means there’s a chance that Cameron will be there. I want to go, any excuse to accidently run into him on purpose, but what if he’s with that other girl? I don’t think I can handle being in the same room with him while he acts as if we’re total strangers.
“Nah, I’m cool.” I run my sweaty palms over my thighs. “Besides, it’s a work thing, so—”