“Grandma says she’s getting fat and she is,” Jackson muttered. “Doesn’t seem right, though, because she barely eats anything.”
Libby resisted the urge to hug the poor girl. She wanted to help Ava, to protect her, but her options were limited.
“Would you like to go out for a while?” Libby asked. “To the park or the waterfront?”
Ava’s eyes brightened and then just as quickly she dropped her gaze. “I can’t. Grandma grounded me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” she insisted.
“She was mad because Casey’s mom came to visit and she took it out on Ava,” Jackson explained. “I told her that wasn’t fair, but then Grandma grounded me, too.”
A hint of a smile showed in Ava’s eyes. “Only Jackson ignored her.”
“Grandma’s at work; she won’t know if I go over to Peter’s or not, right?” He looked to Libby for confirmation.
“My father always knew,” Libby said. “I don’t know how he did, but he did.”
“Spyware,” Jackson said. “But Grandma can’t afford anything like that.”
Libby wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about, but she could guess spyware had to do with hidden cameras watching every move she made. Libby doubted her father had had access to that type of technology when she was a teenager. “Maybe,” she said. “I did bring lunch, though. Are you hungry?”
From the way Ava’s eyes responded, Libby guessed that she was. “Salads,” she said, “with dressing on the side.”
“I guess that would be all right.” Ava moved into the kitchen and started clearing off the table.
“I’ll get our lunch and then we can talk, okay?”
Ava glanced toward her brother.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be with Peter,” Jackson said.
Ava visibly relaxed. “Okay,” she whispered, locking eyes with Libby.
Lunch was only semi-successful. Ava was more frightened than ever. More so of her grandmother’s reaction than what she called “the baby in her stomach.” No matter how persuasive Libby tried to be, she couldn’t get Ava to agree to see a doctor for fear that her grandmother might find out.
“Do you know what you’re going to do once the baby is born?” Libby asked.
Ava’s answer was to hang her head. She didn’t have an answer because she didn’t know.
“Will the father be able to help you?”
“No.” Her response was immediate and flat, indicating this was a subject she didn’t want to discuss.
Up until this point Libby had avoided the subject of the baby’s father, wanting to build up trust before she brought him into the situation. “If he’s older than eighteen I need to know,” Libby said gently.
Ava stood and backed away from the table. “I think you should go now before my grandmother comes home.”
“Okay.”
Libby realized it was an excuse to avoid the subject. She hesitated, wishing she hadn’t brought up the subject of the baby’s father so soon. A number of important issues needed to be discussed, including whether Ava continued to be sexually active. She packed up the lunch leftovers, afraid that if the girl’s grandmother saw the take-out boxes she’d guess someone had stopped by the house.
The next time they met, Libby was determined she would broach the subject more carefully.
Chapter 22
“So what did Sarah tell you?” Robin asked as the two sat at the Smoothie Bar just outside the exercise room at the gym.
This was a rare treat. Robin usually rushed out of the gym and headed for her office in the courthouse the minute she’d showered and changed clothes. Her suggestion that they get a fruit smoothie together had come as a pleasant surprise.
“I haven’t heard from Sarah,” Libby told her.
“What?” Robin’s gaze narrowed as if she had been afraid of something like this.
Libby was surprised herself. She’d expected Sarah to jump at her offer to get away from the oppressive atmosphere of the office. As she’d told Lydia, Sarah didn’t appear to be the friend Libby had once thought she was.
“Then write her off,” Robin advised.
Libby had more or less already done so, although she couldn’t help thinking Sarah would have a change of heart. What was it people said about the eternal optimist? Libby didn’t remember, but she couldn’t help but hold out hope that Sarah would seriously consider the job offer. If it wasn’t in the cards, then so be it. While it’d be great to work with Sarah again, Libby would do fine without her. Still, it stung.
Really, all Sarah needed to do was pick up the phone and tell Libby she just didn’t feel she could make the change. It wouldn’t have been difficult. But to not call her back really said it all.
The gal at the counter delivered their smoothies and Libby took her first sip. She wasn’t sure what to expect after reading the ingredient list. In addition to fresh fruit, the smoothie had a bunch of healthy, veggie-type goodies added: flaxseed, wheatgrass, and a couple of other items Libby had never seriously considered eating until now.
“Hey, this tastes good.” Robin sat back on her stool and cocked her eyebrows with a look of surprise. “Never thought I’d see the day I’d voluntarily eat raw spinach.”
“Me neither,” Libby agreed. If she got any healthier she would sprout grass on top of her head.
“So …” Robin said, stirring her smoothie with her straw. “How’s everything between you and Phillip?”
Libby froze. Up until now she’d managed to avoid the subject of Phillip. He hadn’t been at the gym, either. Her shoulders sank and she admitted, “I’m not seeing him anymore.”
Robin’s face revealed her shock. “When did this happen?”
“A week or so ago … after the interview. I told him he was a distraction.”
“You did what?”
“I know, I know.” Libby had been kicking herself ever since.
“Is that why he hasn’t been at the gym?”
Libby wasn’t entirely sure. “Either he’s avoiding me or he’s on surgery rotation again.” She’d heard through the hospital grapevine that Phillip planned to attend a charity tennis benefit to support a good friend of his who was the organizer, another doctor named Scott Busbee. Libby had debated attending the function and finding a seat close to him. The temptation was strong but she hated to be so obvious.
She hadn’t seen him since that fateful afternoon. She was sorry she’d acted so impulsively, and now she wasn’t sure if it would be possible to repair the damage. She’d come so far, only to back away when it mattered most.
“The two of you had been seeing a lot of each other, hadn’t you?”
They’d found an excuse to be together almost every day. Well, no longer. “Yeah.”
“You’re sorry?”
“Oh, Robin, how could I have been so foolish? I feel dreadful.”
“Then tell him that. Eat crow if you have to, but do it—otherwise you might regret it for the rest of your life.”
“I’ll think about it,” Libby promised, and she would. Eventually she would run into Phillip. Either he was doing a masterful job of avoiding her or the fates were conspiring against them. She supposed she could pick up the phone, too, but she held back. Fear had made her break it off with him in the first place, a fear that she couldn’t embrace new things and be a success. And also fear of being hurt again when so much of her life was up in the air.
Robin went silent and kept her head lowered as she drew circles with her straw in the thick drink.
Libby sipped her smoothie. She’d noticed lately that people tended to ask the very questions they wanted others to ask them. It made her wonder what exactly was going on between Robin and Roy. Robin only rarely mentioned the judge, and it seemed like she was afraid of what Libby might say if she did.
“What about you and … what’s his name again?” Libby asked, playing dumb. “Roy, isn’t it?”
Robin’s head shot up.
Bull’
s-eye.
“What makes you ask?”
Libby played it nonchalant and shrugged. “No reason.”
Robin stirred the smoothie with increased energy. “I see him nearly every day.”
“Fabulous.”
“Yeah, it’s fabulous all right,” Robin muttered sarcastically, and set her drink on the counter before she slid off the stool. “Listen, I need to run. See you.” She scooted off the stool.
“Will I see you Friday?” Libby asked.
Robin nodded.
Libby didn’t know what had happened between Robin and her judge, but apparently something must have for her friend to react that way.
Phillip wasn’t at the gym the rest of the week. Friday morning, after working out with Robin, Libby showered and changed clothes, and headed to the hospital to rock babies. While she exchanged chitchat with Sharon, she kept an eye out for Phillip, hoping she’d see him. Gathering her resolve, she planned to talk to him, tell him she’d made a mistake, and ask for a second chance.
He didn’t stop by.
Until today she’d always felt better after spending time with the newborns, but her nerves were on edge and the babies quickly picked up on her tension.
“Have you seen Dr. Stone this morning?” Libby gathered her courage and asked Sharon when she couldn’t stand it any longer.
Sharon shook her head. “Dr. Stone hasn’t stopped by all week, and frankly, that surprises me.”
It didn’t surprise Libby.
“He generally finds an excuse to visit the nursery on the days you’re here.”
At one time that had been true, but Libby suspected that it wouldn’t be any longer.
After leaving the hospital, Libby returned to her condo. She didn’t bother with lunch. She sat with her knitting for a short time as she sorted through her feelings. After a while she decided she was too numb and upset to feel much of anything other than sadness over the loss of a promising relationship—a relationship she’d single-handedly ruined.
Phillip Stone wasn’t the only person on her mind. Libby decided to try contacting Sarah one last time. She used the number for the direct line, only it wasn’t Sarah who answered.
“Hello, this is Libby Morgan,” she said. “Is Sarah available?”
“I’m sorry; Sarah is out for the day.”
“All right, thank you.” Libby hung up the phone. She had Sarah’s cell number, but she’d need to dig out her address book to locate it.
After taking a couple of moments to compose her thoughts Libby punched out the number for Sarah’s cell. It rang four times and then went to voice mail.
“Hello, Sarah,” she said, doing her best to sound upbeat and enthused. “I haven’t heard back from you. If I don’t get word by Monday morning I can only assume that you aren’t interested in the job offer, which is completely fine.”
She disconnected and then sat down. It felt as if she were struggling to swim upstream during a winter thaw.
Sarah was a huge disappointment, but Libby would do fine without the paralegal. Her life was moving along just fine—actually, more than fine.
She had friends.
She had prospects.
She had a bright future and Libby was determined to make the most of it.
She looked down at her knitting once more and reached for it.
Little did Sarah Matto realize that she had just walked away from the opportunity of a lifetime.
It’d taken courage to call Sarah. Now all she had to do was find the nerve to reach out to Phillip.
Chapter 23
Libby’s doorbell chimed and she leaped off the sofa and hurried to open her front door. Robin stood on the other side, looking as sad and depressed as Libby herself felt. Friday night and the rest of the world was out partying and laughing while the two of them were alone. No men. No dates. No fun.
Robin was dressed in an old college sweatshirt and jeans. Head hanging low and shoulders slouched forward, she looked like she’d lost her best friend. She had a sack in her hand.
“I brought some DVDs … old movies,” she muttered.
Libby shook her head. She refused to fall prey to feeling sorry for herself. She still hadn’t run into Phillip and hadn’t yet worked up the courage to contact him directly. Robin was in the dumps, too, although she wasn’t open about her reasons. But Libby was smart enough to read between the lines. “We are not going to sit at home and have a pity party.”
“We’re not?”
“No way.” Libby had a plan. “We’re finished indulging in ice cream. We work way too hard to burn calories to give in to that sort of self-destructive behavior. I’ve seen every sappy chick flick a dozen times and I’m sick of watching other women get the guy while I’m lonely and depressed.”
Robin’s mouth sagged open as if she wasn’t sure she recognized the woman in front of her. Seeing her friend’s response boosted Libby’s confidence. “We are not going to sit here and feed each other tissue after tissue while we lament the sorry state of our love lives.”
“We aren’t?”
“No,” Libby insisted, spreading her feet apart and planting her hands on her waist, elbows jutting out.
“Okaaay,” Robin returned, sounding apprehensive.
“What’s the wildest thing you can think of doing? I mean something that would be completely out of character for both of us?”
“Ah …” Robin’s face scrunched up as she gave the question some deep thought. “I … I don’t know. Pick up men in a bar?”
Libby shook her head. “No; men don’t interest me at the moment.”
“Well, other than one man,” Robin corrected.
She held up a hand, stopping her fellow attorney. “I don’t want to think about Phillip, or deal with any other men, either. You know what the craziest thing I can think to do would be?”
Robin was barely in the front door. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Don’t be. I want us to go out and get tattoos.”
Silence followed and then Robin blurted out, “Are you nuts?”
“Yes. I want us to get tattoos.”
“No way.”
Libby wasn’t taking no for an answer. “It doesn’t have to be anyplace that shows.”
“You want to get a tattoo on your butt?”
“Or the small of my back,” she said, thinking out loud.
“Not me,” Robin argued, shaking her head for emphasis. “You can if you want, but there is no way I’m letting anyone repeatedly poke me with a needle.”
Libby could see Robin wasn’t game. “Okay, fine, but I need you to come with me.”
“You’re serious?” She seemed to find it hard to believe Libby would actually do something like this.
It was out of character, but Libby was more than ready for something different, something that would crack open this shell she’d been living in for the majority of her life. Straightening slightly, she announced, “I’m doing it with or without you.”
Robin’s eyes rounded.
“Don’t let me down now,” Libby pleaded. “The least you can do is come with me.”
“Okay, I’ll watch, but that’s all I intend to do.”
Libby grabbed her purse and took her friend by the arm, resolutely leading her outside. They found a tattoo parlor next to a porn shop. Despite its location, it looked clean. Robin hesitated and Libby had to practically drag her along.
“You need to think this through more carefully,” Robin warned.
“I am finished being the nice girl,” Libby countered, sidestepping her friend.
“The shop next door is selling sex toys …”
“Good, we might learn a trick or two.”
Robin snorted. “Like that’s going to do either of us any good.”
“Your point is well taken, Counselor.” Undeterred, Libby entered the parlor. The tattoo artist, a woman, could see that they were both nervous. After a few questions, the artist suggested they take time to think it over.
“See,�
� Robin whispered heatedly. “Even the tattoo lady recognizes we aren’t her usual customers. You need to consider this very carefully.”
Libby had already made up her mind, but she wasn’t going to do anything rash. They took the other woman’s advice and found a nearby bar.
“A bar is no place to make this kind of decision,” Robin argued, nearly shouting to be heard above the loud music.
“Sure it is,” Libby said. “It isn’t like there’s a church in the neighborhood.”
Three tequila shots later Robin was convinced that they each needed a tattoo.
“You’re sure about this?” the woman artist asked when they staggered into the parlor an hour later. “Both of you? I thought it was only one of you earlier.”
“I want one, too,” Robin insisted, holding up her index finger. “Only I don’t know of what.”
The woman grinned. “Okay, ladies, you got it.”
Libby went first. The tequila had done the trick. She chose a lovely butterfly for the small of her back, gasped at the price, and paid it anyway. What she didn’t anticipate was the pain. A needle repeatedly jabbed in such a sensitive area was a whole lot more uncomfortable than she’d ever imagined. Libby resisted the urge to shout out “I’ll talk, I’ll talk” for fear of frightening off Robin. Actually, her friend surprised her. She’d never thought Robin would be game for this.
“How was it?” Robin asked once Libby was through.
She smiled weakly and joked, “I should have had four tequilas.”
Robin didn’t seem to take nearly as long as Libby. She hadn’t shown Libby her design, and when she came out Libby was shocked to discover that Robin had had the tattoo placed on the inside of her wrist. In plain view. It wasn’t a picture but a Chinese character.
“What does it mean?” Libby asked her friend, staring down at the rather elaborate symbol.
“It’s … private.”
“Private,” she repeated.
“I didn’t ask you about yours.”
“Okay,” Libby said. She’d respect Robin’s privacy.
They walked back to the condo, and almost against their wills they discussed how impossible it was to understand men. The males of the species were the fickle ones. Women simply had a bad rap.
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