“Yes, I am.” I offer an apologetic look when her mood plunges. “Sorry, but even if I was the most spectacular person in the world to give advice, it’s really about what you want. Either you can accept that you might just be Ethan’s girlfriend for forever and come to terms with that or you can’t and move on.”
Her shoulders sag. “I want to be okay with it. I mean, we’re basically like husband and wife. We’re even trying to have kids and everything.”
My lips part in shock. “Since when?!”
She shrugs. “For, like, the last year.”
I span my hands out to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”
She snorts a laugh. “You, the queen of ‘I Never Want to Be a Mother.’ Yeah, I learned a long time ago that kid talk and you just don’t mix.”
I point a finger at her. “Hey, I’m not that bad anymore.”
She undecidedly wavers. “All right, I’ll give you that. But you still get really squimish over anything kid related.”
“True, but I did hold your sister’s baby the other day without getting too wigged out. And I talk with Caroline about her pregnancy on the phone all the time. In fact, I helped her plan how to surprise Dean with the news. I don’t really get why there’s a need to surprise a husband with the news that he’s procreated, but hey, whatever floats her boat.”
She stares me down. “Okay, yes, I’ll give it to you that you’ve kind of evolved. But I bet you’re getting uncomfortable just talking about it right now.”
I shake my head. “Nope.”
Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “Okay, Mrs. Calm, how about if I ask you when you and Micha are going to have your own kids.”
I suddenly grow extremely uncomfortable. I usually am when it comes to thinking about having kids of my own. “Fine, you win that one. But, seriously, that was a low blow.”
“What can I say? I know how to kick you where it counts.” She smiles, but it’s forced.
I glance back at my house, racking my brain for a way to cheer her up because it’s my friend duty to do so. As my gaze lands on my closet, an idea sparkles.
“I have an idea that will maybe clear your head.” I look back at her and grin.
She perks up, her posture straightening. “And what’s your idea? Please tell me it’s something epically fun because I need epically fun.”
“Well, I need a new outfit for the concert tonight if you’re interested in helping me find one.”
“Wow. You must really feel sorry for me if you’re suggesting we go shopping.” A grin lights up her face and it almost makes the next four hours of store time less painful to endure. “Meet me down at the car in like thirty?”
I nod as I back toward the door. “But we have to stop for coffee.”
She opens the back door to her house. “Of course. An Ella with no caffeine is never fun.”
Smiling, I retreat inside my bedroom and shut the door behind me. The inside of my house is almost as equally beautiful as the view of the city. Filled with antique furniture and art, the walls and rooms have character. The hardwood floors look purposefully old, and the walls are painted in various different colors that breathe life into the place. My favorite room is the attic, though, because it’s where I create my art.
After I take a quick shower, I pull on a pair of denim shorts and a black shirt then apply some kohl liner around my eyes. Right on cue, a spout of nausea slams against my stomach as I’m brushing my long, auburn hair.
“Shit.” I drop to my knees in front of the toilet. Since I haven’t had breakfast yet, I end up dry heaving for about a minute before my stomach settles, and I stumble to my feet again.
Dammit. This shit is getting really old. Between the overheating and the vomiting, I think it might be time to go to the doctor to make sure something’s not wrong.
I reapply my makeup then change into a fresh shirt before heading out of the house. The sun is gleaming in the sky, the air smells like cut grass, and my neighbor, Mrs. Flicking, waves to me as I round the fence to Lila’s driveway.
The garage door is open, and Lila is waiting for me by her shiny black Mercedes. She’s changed into a flowery sundress and a jacket, her long, blonde hair is down and wavy, and she’s texting someone as I approach her.
“Jesus, you look like shit,” she remarks when she glances up at me.
“Wow. Thanks. Exactly what every woman wants to hear right before they go shopping for something to make them look sexy for their husband, who they haven’t seen in two months.” I sling my purse over my shoulder as I open the passenger door of the car.
“I’m so sorry.” She ducks into the car and starts up the engine. “I didn’t mean to sound like such a bitch.” She squints at me. “But you do look really pale.”
“I got sick this morning,” I admit as I fan my hand in front of my face. “And can we please keep the heat off this time? I feel like I’m burning up all the damn time. I’m seriously wondering if I’ve had the longest flu ever or something.”
With a pucker at her brows, she reaches across the console and places the palm of her hand on my forehead. “You don’t feel like you have a fever.” She lowers her hand to the shifter and pushes it into reverse. “Are you sure you’re up for shopping today? Because, if you’re not feeling good, we can just sit home and watch a movie or something. That cheers me up, too, just as long as I can pick the movie.”
I motion for her to back up the car. “No way. We’re so doing this. I need a dress, and you need cheering up.”
“Thank you, best friend.” She beams as she backs down the driveway.
“No problem.” I draw the seatbelt over my shoulder. “I just wish I knew what was up with me.”
She adjusts her mirror as she nears the street. “Up with what?”
“These stupid nausea spouts I’ve been having for like a month.”
She abruptly slams on the brakes, sending the car lurching to a stop. I shoot forward in my seat, nearly banging my head on the dash.
“What the hell, Lila?” I brush stray strands of hair out of my eyes and turn my head to gape at her. “What was that about?”
Her blue eyes search mine. “You said you’ve been getting sick to your stomach for like a month?”