“Just missing a lot of very important details,” Elise added.
Miles threw his hand up. “Come on, Lisie. Bring me shopping with you. If I’m left to my own devices after this, I’ll get into trouble. Do you really want to be responsible for that?”
Weston nodded to me. “Elliot and I are going for a hike. You and Luca should join us.”
I held my breath, hoping like hell Miles would turn him down.
“Yeah, that sounds more fun than shopping for a baby.” Miles addressed Saoirse and Elise. “Sorry, ladies. I had a better offer.”
Fuck.
At least Luca would be there as a buffer. The Aldrich brothers were known for their bickering, and I didn’t have it in me to listen to two or three hours of it.
“Catch me next time,” Luca said. “If my wife is busy, I’ll go for a ride.”
Fuck again. I guess I’d have to search deep inside the well of patience I usually reserved for the egomaniacal men I dealt with at work.
Saoirse leaned into him, her bottom lip poking out. “You’re taking the motorcycle out without me?”
He kissed her cheek and dragged his nose into her hair. “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll take you for a ride later if you want.”
“I want,” she murmured.
The waitress brought our drinks and took our food orders. The topic moved on, thankfully, and Miles and Saoirse began talking about the business they’d started together.
“We landed a new client yesterday,” Saoirse said.
I raised a brow. “You’re still doing that?”
This was mostly said in jest, but there was a kernel of truth behind my question. I’d known Saoirse since she and Elise had roomed together in college. She was a quality person—I wouldn’t have allowed the friendship to continue otherwise—but she’d never stuck to one thing, place, relationship, or job for any length of time.
Her and Luca’s marriage had been a complete surprise since neither of them had been known for their love of commitment. Then she and Miles—who I still viewed as the kid who routinely tried to pants me whenever I was forced to be in his presence—had started a business consulting firm. The past few months had been a strange upheaval of my friend group. Everything was changing at a pace that often gave me whiplash.
She flipped me off. “Yes, asshole. And we’re killing it.”
I raised both hands in surrender. “Sorry. I’m only kidding. I know you’ve been putting your blood, sweat, and tears into it.” Teasing Saoirse was all too easy, especially when she gave as good as she got. She and Miles deserved accolades, though. I knew firsthand what starting a business was like. It wasn’t for the weak.
I picked up my orange juice. “Cheers to Saoirse and Miles. Keep killing it out there.”
We toasted them, and as I tipped my drink to my mouth, my gaze slipped toward the sidewalk. I froze when I caught sight of Catherine walking in the direction of the restaurant. Our table was right beside the low picket fence barrier that marked the space. In moments, she would be passing directly by us.
“What are you looking at?” Elise swiveled in the direction I was staring. “Oh! Is that Catherine?”
“It is,” I confirmed warily.
Like dominoes, one by one, every person at our table craned their neck to see her. As though she knew she was being watched, Catherine turned toward us. When she landed on me, her eyes widened in outright alarm.
Elise raised her hand, beckoning her over. “Hi, Catherine!”
When our mother died, I’d dropped out of Stanford so I could return home and become Elise’s guardian, and I’d never once regretted it until now. If Elise had had to tough it out in a group home or something, she wouldn’t have been so goddamn friendly.
Catherine stopped on the other side of the fence, which only came up to the middle of her thighs. “Hello, everyone. Fancy seeing you here.”
Elise hopped up, glancing around at the surrounding tables. “We were just talking about you. Come join us. Surely we can find another chair.”
Miles pushed away from the table. “It’s cool. I can stand. It helps digestion anyway. And everyone knows pancakes are easier to eat while standing.”
Catherine waved them both off, giggling softly. “No, I couldn’t possibly. All of you look so nice, and I look like a complete slob. I don’t want to drag you guys down.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she avoided looking at me. She’d done a lot of that the last few weeks. Avoidance was her art form.
“Are you kidding me? You look adorable,” Elise cooed. “Please, come sit with us.”
Catherine held up a shopping bag. “I’m just on my way home and have my hands full, so I’d better go. Thank you, though.”
Catherine continued on her way, though she wasn’t moving fast, which made sense given the size of her belly. It had gone from a subtle swell to having its own gravitational pull. Sometimes, I debated asking her if there were twins in there, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let that question leave my mouth. I’d already stuck my foot in it enough times.
Unexpected disappointment gnawed at me as she made her way down the sidewalk. The way she’d called herself a slob while avoiding eye contact with me stuck in my mind.
I stood, throwing my napkin on the table. “Excuse me. I have to speak to her. I’ll be right back.”
By the time I caught up with her, Catherine was at the corner. She watched me approach with wary eyes, her bag clutched in front of her like a shield.
“Come back. Elise will skin me alive if I let you leave.” I stopped in front of her, peering down at her. I always forgot how short she was since she didn’t seem short. Then again, this was the first time I had seen her outside a work environment. She was normally pressed and pristine, with neat hair and simple, classic clothing. Today, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy, unruly bun, and she was cozy in a hoodie and leggings.
“Please tell her I already ate.” She tugged at her hoodie, which was oversized everywhere except where it stretched over her belly. “I really feel way too schlubby to go to a restaurant, and all of you—”
“You look nice. No one’s going to judge you for wearing a hoodie when you’re thirty-seven weeks—”
“Wait, you know how many weeks I am?” Her brow knitted in confusion.
“Of course. You told me five weeks ago. Five plus thirty-two equals thirty-seven. It isn’t difficult.”
“Oh.”
She blinked, and it was then I really noticed how tired she looked. Maybe she wore makeup to work to disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes and she wasn’t now, or maybe she’d had a bad night. Either way, she looked like she needed rest. And soon.
“Please, come,” I urged, uneasy with keeping her standing here longer than necessary.
She shook her head. “No, I honestly wouldn’t be comfortable.”