The Friends We Keep

Her gaze shifted to Makayla. The teen stared at Boyd with hope and love. They were both so young. They had no idea what they were facing.

“We need some time,” Andrew said. “We know what these two want. Gabby and I need to talk about where we are in all this. I assume, Thomas, that you and Lisa want to do the same. Let’s agree to talk in a couple of weeks.”

For the first time since they’d walked into the house, Lisa smiled. “That’s an excellent idea, Andrew. We just found out and we all need time to process the information. Why don’t you and I stay in touch?”

Because she and Thomas were lessor mortals in the My kid is pregnant club?

Gabby shook off her annoyance. She was going to have to deal with Lisa for the next few months. Possibly longer if, God forbid, there was any reality to the plan of Makayla and Boyd staying together and raising their baby.





Chapter Eleven

Pescadores was a popular Mischief Bay seafood restaurant. Nicole knew there was some complicated history between this place and The Original Seafood Company down the street. People often assumed that any part of metropolitan Los Angeles was faceless and nameless due to size and population, but they would be wrong. There were small town-like enclaves everywhere and Mischief Bay was one of them. Feuds flared up, people took sides, words were spoken, shopping decisions made. Then time passed and no one could remember why they never went to a particular deli, but the rules stayed in place.

All of which was terribly interesting and not the least bit relevant, Nicole thought as she got out of her car but kept hold of the door handle. It was nerves. Fluttering, twisting, nausea-inducing nerves. She’d never been one to self-medicate beyond the occasional glass of wine, but this seemed like a really good time to start. Did she know anyone who might have a prescription for Valium or Xanax? She didn’t want a whole pill. Just half. Something to take the edge off.

It was Saturday night. A traditional date night. She knew that. She used to date, back in the day. But that had been about eight years and a whole marriage ago. Now she was a divorced, single mom who didn’t know what on earth she’d been thinking when she’d said yes to Jairus’s invitation.

She felt stupid. And out of place. Not to mention confused. Everything was wrong. Her dress, her hair, her being here in the first place. Two days ago, she’d realized she had nothing to wear. She’d borrowed a dress from her friend Shannon, a pretty floral print number with a square neckline, scooped back, fitted to the waist before flaring out.

Nicole hadn’t recognized the name on the label, but she was pretty sure it was a designer dress that had cost more than a couple of months’ mortgage. But Shannon had been generous and hadn’t mentioned how much it had cost. Nor had she pushed to know the event it was needed for beyond Nicole’s slightly untrue, “I’ve been invited to a client thing.” Which sounded like a house party or benefit. Not a date.

This was all his fault, she told herself. If that stupid man hadn’t asked her out, she would be home now with Tyler. Watching a movie, eating popcorn. She would be comfortable. Content. She would not be afraid she was going to throw up.

“Hi.”

She jumped—a serious mistake in three-inch heels—and turned to find Jairus walking toward her. Her first thought was that he looked good in a dark blue shirt and black pants. His hair was still too long, but he’d shaved. He was smiling. A sexy, happy-to-see-you kind of smile that made her tummy even more unstable.

“Hi,” she managed to answer, then told herself she had to let go of the door handle. At some point he would be expecting her to walk into the restaurant with him and wouldn’t that be awkward with her dragging a car behind?

Jairus tilted his head. “You okay?”

“Fine.” She should have stopped there. Instead, sadly, she kept talking. “I’m nervous. About this. The date. That it’s not going to go well. Or that you’re annoyed about meeting here instead of picking me up at the house. It’s just, I don’t really know you, so why would I trust you? Plus Tyler. He loves B the D and you’re, well, you know who you are. I don’t want him thinking things. I don’t know what they would be, but something.”

She ordered herself to stop talking. If she didn’t stop voluntarily, she was going to be forced to physically hold her lips together. Which meant she really, really had to let go of the door handle.

She did both—releasing the metal and shutting her mouth. She even managed a tight smile. She hoped it looked less scary than it felt.

“B the D?” he asked.

“It’s short for—”

“Oh, I know what it’s short for.” The sexy smile returned. “It’s kind of cute. B the D. Like his street name.”

“I’m not sure a pudgy red dragon gets to have a street name.”

The smile faded. “Pudgy?”

“Kind of.”