? ? ?
On my way home, I picked up the phone and called Jillian. Skylar was too happy in love to appreciate my misery. I needed someone who would abet it. Someone who would agree with me that love was hopeless and no one knew what they were doing. Someone to tell me men were clueless apes who didn’t understand anything. Someone who would commiserate with me on my desolate future and let me wallow.
“Natalie?”
“Hi.”
“Everything OK?”
“No. Everything is terrible.”
“Are you home? I’m coming over.”
“I’ll meet you there in fifteen.”
Half an hour later, she walked in and found me curled up on the couch. “Hey. How are you feeling?”
“Shitty.” I sat up and put both hands on my stomach. “But I decided to have the baby.”
“You did?” She sat down and threw her arms around me. “That’s so exciting! To keep?”
“I don’t know.” I sighed. “Probably. Once I start a project, I don’t like to give up on it.”
She laughed ruefully. “True.”
“I just went and had a psychic reading from Madam Psuka.”
“Shut up. Did you really? Why?”
I threw my hands up. “Because I’m confused! My life is a wreck! It’s turning out to be nothing like what I thought it would be, and I’m totally lost. I was hoping she’d tell me what I’m supposed to do!”
“And did she?”
“No,” I said angrily. “She just gave me a bunch of nonsense about being more flexible and brave and seeing things that aren’t there.”
Jillian sighed. “Sorry, kiddo. I wish I could help. Hey, are you hungry?”
“I was before. But then I wasn’t.”
She stood up. “You need nourishment. Let me get you something to eat.”
“I just said I wasn’t hungry.”
“Doesn’t matter. Your body needs sustenance.” She gave me the look. “Now come in the kitchen and talk to me.”
I followed her into the kitchen, and while she rummaged in the fridge and fiddled with the microwave I sat at the table and ranted about men and apes and cluelessness and misery. She let me go on for about ten minutes, nodding and clucking her tongue in sympathy.
“I hear you.” She set a bowl of chicken noodle soup down in front of me, along with an orange and a glass of milk. “So I take it Miles was a jerk about the baby?”
“No, not a jerk exactly.” I picked up the spoon and poked at some noodles. “Not a jerk at all, I guess.”
She sat down and looked at me, perplexed. “What did he say?”
Taking a deep breath, I filled her in on what had transpired yesterday.
“Wait a minute.” She sat back and held up her hands. “He drove here right away and told you that he loves you?”
“Yes, but—”
“That he wants to be with you? And raise this child?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“That he’s willing to change his life for you? Move here? Get married?”
“Not in those exact words, maybe, but yeah. I guess that’s what he meant.”
“And this is the guy who tied you up in his closet and talked dirty and did amazing things with his tongue?”
“Um…yes.”
Jillian sat back. “So where’s the ape, Nat? Where’s the cluelessness? Where’s the misery?”
“I don’t know, OK?” I stabbed the noodle into bits. “It just wasn’t right.”
“Forgive me, little sister, I know you’re going through some shit, but maybe you’re being a little too picky here. I think Madam Psuka might have been right.”
I looked up at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, this wasn’t exactly planned. You guys haven’t been together for a decade. Miles didn’t have ten years to come up with the perfect proposal. So maybe it wasn’t the perfect pitch, but guess what? You’re pregnant. With his child. And you guys are going to have to sort of feel your way from here. I know that’s hard for you, but life threw you a big fat curveball and you took a big hard swing.”
It was big and hard all right. “Yeah. We did.”
“So maybe you need to be a little flexible. Cut Miles some slack. Let your life take this new direction—it’s not what you planned, but maybe it’s meant to be.”
I bit my lip. “You think so?”
“Yes.” She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. “And you guys love each other. You’ve been friends for twenty years. Maybe it’s not the perfect love story, but it’s yours.”
Tears filled my eyes. “God, Jilly. I’m so fucking tired of crying.”
“It’s the hormones,” she said, coming around to hug me. “It will get better.”
“When?” I sobbed into her stomach.
“I don’t know. Eighteen years?”
I choked out a laugh. “Jesus. Eighteen years.”
“You won’t be alone, honey. You’ll have Mom and Dad, me, Sky and Sebastian. And you’ll have Miles, too, Nat. I feel it. I see it in the way he looks at you. How he’s always looked at you. He loves you—you just have to let him do it his way.”