His raised his eyebrows.
She glanced at her wineglass and saw it was empty. Perhaps the second glass of the evening had gone to her head.
“I’m sure you could find someone to date you even if you weren’t Mr. Danger Pants.”
“Mr. Danger Pants? I chase down bad guys so you can safely walk the city streets and you call me Mr. Danger Pants?”
She reached for the bottle of wine and poured herself another glass. She might regret it in the morning, but right now more wine seemed like an excellent idea.
“Technically I live in Mischief Bay and we have our own police department, so while I appreciate your effort, it’s not on my behalf.” She took a sip. “Do you think your mom leaving is the reason you like younger women?”
He stared at her. “We’re not having that conversation.”
She waved away his words. “I mean it. I’m really curious. Is it a commitment thing? Oh, did your dad date younger women?”
His expression turned wary. “Maybe.”
“Huh. So you learned that from him and having your mom do what she did—by the way, that was a total jerk move. What a bitch. I hate her.”
“Good to know.”
“Anyway, maybe you’re afraid of commitment or you’re afraid of being left.” She paused to reflect. “Or maybe you’re just afraid of saggy boobs. It’s hard to know.”
Lucas’s mouth twitched. “You are so going to regret this in the morning.”
“Maybe. Still, it’s been fun.” She frowned. “I think this is the first time it’s only been you and me at dinner. I’m having a good time.” She held up her hand. “Please take that in the spirit it’s meant.”
“You’re not coming on to me?” he asked, sounding amused.
“Oh, please. I’m going to be forty-two. That’s probably a hundred and twenty-seven in Lucas girlfriend years.”
He laughed and pushed the pizza box toward her. “Eat up before Becca gets home and you’re exposed as the hypocrite you’ve become.”
“It’s not my fault,” she said cheerfully, taking another slice. “I’m going to be totally immature and put the blame squarely on my mother.”
“That’s my girl.”
Chapter Thirteen
STACEY ARRIVED AT the restaurant first. Lunch with her sister was a relatively rare event, but one she looked forward to the few times a year they got together. When Stacey’s all-day meeting was canceled, she’d put a call in to Harper and suggested they meet at Let’s Do Tea.
At street level there was a retail store with a take-out counter while upstairs was the actual restaurant. All things British and tea related were represented. While she supposed there were those would wouldn’t appreciate all the frilly touches, Stacey liked the attention to detail. It comforted her, maybe because it was so different from her house.
She and Kit shared a similar sense of style—they liked clean lines and minimal clutter. While she could admire a shelf filled with vintage teapots, silver boxes and bone china, she didn’t want it in her house. How much was a baby going to change that? How much was a baby going to change everything?
She glanced down at her growing belly and wished... She sighed, not sure what she would wish for. Not that it would matter. Wishes were an exercise in futility. Wishing did nothing but waste time and disappoint the soul. She couldn’t wish the baby away or wish that she was going to be a halfway decent mother.
When she and Kit had first started dating, he’d mentioned how much he wanted children. She’d surprised herself by saying she would like a baby, as well. Not that she’d been lying, but until that moment she’d never really thought about having a child. She hadn’t been sure how much of that was because of her work or her social awkwardness or not being with the right man.
Even before she and Kit got married, they’d discussed the logistics of having a family. She hadn’t wanted a family to interfere with work and he’d been more than willing to stay home with their baby, solving both their problems at once. Only what sounded so right when it was just the two of them often produced stares and disapproval from others.
Harper walked into the dining room, spotted her and smiled. “Hey, you.”
They hugged. Harper stepped back and stared at Stacey’s stomach.
“You’re finally starting to show.”
“I know.”
“I showed in the first fifteen minutes. You’re so lucky, except now you’re really going to have to tell Mom.”
“Can you do it for me?” Stacey was only half kidding with her request.
“I would except we’re not currently speaking.”
“Lucky you.”
They sat down. There was no need to look at the menu—the two of them frequently chose this restaurant for their lunches.
“How are you feeling?” Harper asked. “What does the doctor say? You’re over six months, so you’re getting close. Are you still sleeping?” She shook her head. “Wow. I just got that. It really is over six months. It’s nearly seven. You’re due at the end of June. Stacey, honey, you’ve got to get your act together.”
Stacey thought about the debacle with Ashton—how she hadn’t realized what he needed but Harper had figured it out in less than a minute. She thought of the empty baby room, the looks on her coworkers’ faces when she’d told them and found herself wanting to cry. A ridiculous response that wouldn’t help anyone, least of all her.
“Having you tell me that isn’t helpful,” she said instead.
“Sorry. I went into problem-solving mode and you probably just need me to be a sister.” Harper touched her hand. “What can I do to help?”
Before Stacey could form an answer—not that she had one—their waitress appeared. They each ordered the royal lunch—a combination with finger sandwiches, a small salad and scones. Perhaps not the most balanced of meals, but it was delicious and Stacey would have a vegetable-based smoothie later, along with a protein bar.
The server, an older woman with a sympathetic smile, glanced at Stacey’s belly. “I’ve got just the tea to fix you right up. I give it to all my expectant mums. Back in a flash, dearies.”
Harper waited until she was gone to lean forward. “I never asked and I should have. Do you want a shower? I’m happy to put one together for you.”
Stacey stared at her. Why would Harper want to put together—“You mean a baby shower? No, thank you. I’d rather not.”
Harper pressed her lips together. “Stacey, you’ve got to accept you’re having a baby.”
“I have. I see the doctor regularly. I exercise with my prenatal yoga video daily. We’ve picked out a name.”
“A first name,” Harper corrected gently. “Have you figured out the last name?”
Stacey hadn’t taken Kit’s last name when they’d married, mostly for professional reasons. He didn’t seem to mind, but it did create a problem when it came to their offspring.
“We’re thinking of hyphenating.”
“Bloom-Poenisch? There’s a mouthful. Have you started your birthing class yet?”
“It’s too soon.”
“And the nursery?”
Stacey felt familiar tension creep into her body. “Why are you pressuring me?”
“I’m trying to illustrate that maybe you’re not taking this baby thing as seriously as you should. I don’t want to upset you. I love you. You’re my very favorite sister.”
Stacey smiled at the familiar joke. “I’m your only sister.”
“That’s just a detail.” Harper smiled at her. “Okay, I’m officially letting the whole baby thing go.”
“For how long?”
“Just the rest of the day.”
“Thank you.”
Stacey knew she had to handle the details of what was going to happen when they brought their daughter home, but every time she tried, she
got so caught up in feeling inadequate that she could barely breathe. It was so much easier to pretend she would be a vessel forever instead.
Their waitress returned with a big pot of tea, two cups and saucers and a plate of little sandwiches.
Harper poured them each a cup of tea, then asked, “How’s work?”
Stacey laughed. “I assume you want me to say it’s fine rather than give you any specific details.”
“You can talk specifics. I’ll tune it out but I’ll nod enthusiastically.”
Which was more than most people did, Stacey thought fondly. Harper had always been there for her, being the big sister, standing between Stacey’s oddness and their mother’s frustration that her youngest had no interest in crafts, baking or otherwise taking care of the home.
“Work is fine,” Stacey told her. “Are you still busy?”
“Swamped. I mean it’s good. I need the income, but I’m constantly scrambling to get everything done. I keep feeling as if I’m not as organized as I could be. Plus, if I could get an extra six hours in each day, that would help.”
“You need to hire someone.”
Harper winced. “This is payback for talking about the baby, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s because you told me about Morgan.”
“She was a disaster, and my own fault for hiring her without knowing anything about her. I need to do a better job at that.” She reached for a sandwich.
Stacey pulled a single sheet of paper out of her tote. “I brought a résumé for you to look at. His name is Dean and he’s a stay-at-home dad with twins. He’s looking for part-time work that still allows him time with his kids.” She smiled at Harper. “Kit met him at his stay-at-home father support group. Dean goes, too.”
Harper stared at her. “You brought me a résumé? I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a résumé, which is pathetic, right? Thank you. I appreciate your...” She glanced down at the paper, then back at Stacey. Her eyes were wide. “He was a movie set designer? Are you crazy? I run a virtual assistant business from my home, Stacey. I’m small-time. I couldn’t possibly... I’m looking for someone to put postage on postcards and enter dates on my computer. He would never want to work for me.”
Her sister’s reaction made no sense. “You can’t possibly know what he wants without speaking to him. According to Kit, your assistant job is exactly what Dean described. Kit says he’s funny, smart and creative. Why wouldn’t you want someone like that helping you?”
“Because he’s going to be too important.”
“He’s a stay-at-home parent.”
“Now!”
“I’m genuinely confused,” she admitted. “You need help and you’ve admitted you’re not comfortable with the hiring process. I’ve brought you an appropriate résumé, but you won’t consider the applicant. Are you afraid you’ll get it wrong again, like you did with Morgan?”
“Ouch, and maybe.”
So many people had that fear, she thought. It must be part of the human condition and yet it was as wasteful as wishing.
“When we’re trying to solve a problem in the lab, we expect literally thousands of failures before we find the solution. If we discover an answer quickly, we’re highly suspicious of it working over time simply because it doesn’t happen very often. Every failure brings us closer to our ultimate success.”
Harper groaned. “You’re not going to tell me the Thomas Edison and the lightbulb story again, are you?”
“Not now that I know you’ve remembered it.” Stacey leaned forward. “You might know how to be a good mother, but I know how to solve a problem. Keep trying until you get to the correct solution. Morgan didn’t work out. That means the right person still has to be found.” She tapped the résumé. “Here is your next opportunity to fail.”
“Oh, joy.”
Stacey picked up a sandwich and grinned. “Mom would tell you that sarcasm isn’t pretty on anyone.”
“Yes, she would, and how nice of you to remind me.”
They looked at each other and both started to laugh.
* * *
“Tire pressure is really important,” Becca said as she and Jordan spread their notebooks and papers on the kitchen table. “Having under or overinflated tires means the car doesn’t handle right. It can be dangerous and affect gas mileage.”
Jordan shook her head. “I can’t believe Lucas is making you learn all about your car.”
“I was mad at first,” Becca admitted, “but now I don’t mind. It’s been kind of interesting. He taught me how to change a tire.”
Jordan flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t you have some phone number you can call so they send someone out to change it for you?”
“Yes, but I want to know how to do it myself.”
She liked the feeling of independence, she thought. Something she never would have guessed. Plus, Ashton had been impressed when she’d told him.
She still couldn’t believe he wanted to hang out with her. He was so gorgeous and mature and, well, everything. But he did. They texted a lot and they’d watched movies at Aunt Stacey’s. Becca was hoping he would want to take her out somewhere, just the two of them. Like a date.
She held in a sigh. Yes, that was really old-fashioned but the thought of being alone with him and maybe holding hands or kissing was exciting. Scary, too, but in a fun way.
“Earth to Becca,” Jordan said. “You okay?”
“I’m just thinking about Ashton.”
“Isn’t he your cousin?”
“No.” She considered the question. “Maybe, but not, you know, biologically. Stacey’s my mom’s sister and Kit is her husband. Ashton is his nephew.”
“That’s confusing, but okay.” Jordan moved her chair closer and lowered her voice, even though they were alone in the house. “So you like him?”
“Yeah, I do. He’s really sweet and funny and smart. He’s going to MIT in the fall.”
“So you’ll be dating a college guy. That’s great.”
Becca smiled. “We’re not dating.”
“But you could be.”
This was the Jordan Becca wanted to hang out with. She’d missed her friend and wondered if she should say that. Before she could decide, Jordan spoke.
“Let’s get Nathan and Ashton to take us out to dinner.”
Becca’s stomach flipped and she felt a shiver slip down her spine. The last thing she wanted was to be around Nathan.
“I think it’s too soon,” she hedged. “I don’t want Ashton to think I’m assuming anything.”
“He won’t. We’ll keep it totally casual. Being around another couple will give him ideas.”
Becca wasn’t sure that being around Nathan would give him any good ones. Not that she thought Ashton would ever act the way Nathan did with a girl, although how could she be sure? She would never have assumed Nathan could be so...scary.
Jordan stared at her. “Is that a yes?”
“I need to think about it.”
“Oh. My. God. What is wrong with you? Becca, you’re the worst. When you told me about Ashton, I thought you were over it, but you’re not, are you?” Jordan’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “I know he’s hot and all that, but get over it.”
Becca had no idea what she was—“Wait. You think I’m interested in Nathan?” She tasted bile in the back of her throat. “That’s not it, I swear. There is no way I would ever—” She bit her lower lip. Nope, she couldn’t go there. Talk about a conversation she didn’t want to have.
“You’re right,” she said by way of distraction. “We should have dinner or something.” Maybe Ashton would be busy with his new job and have to back out. That could buy them some time.
“What?” Jordan demanded. “What aren’t you saying?” Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me.”
“Nothing. It’s all good.”
<
br /> “Tell me. What do you know about Nathan?”
What did she know? Not much, but all of it was scary and gross and not anything she wanted to think about or share with the person who was supposed to be her best friend now that Kaylee had moved on.
“Nothing.”
“Tell. Me.”
Becca wished she was a better liar—then she could come up with something that would convince Jordan that everything was fine. If only she’d heard about some award or scholarship he was up for. Or that he’d been asked to star in a teen movie over the summer. But she couldn’t, which only left the truth.
“I have to go,” she said as she gathered up her books.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Jordan stood. “You are not leaving this house until you tell me whatever it is you’re hiding. Do you hear me?”
“You sound like your mom.”
“Whatever works.”
Tears burned. Becca blinked them away. There was no way this was going to go well. She only had the truth and there was no way Jordan would believe her. They would fight and not be friends and then what? But if she didn’t tell her, Jordan would hound her until she had no choice but to...
“Becca, I mean it. What’s going on?”
Becca finished putting her books and notebook into her backpack, then looked at her friend. “Nathan said he was willing to sleep with me so I didn’t have to be a virgin anymore.”
For one second, nothing about Jordan changed. She was still beautiful and Becca’s friend. Then her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open and she started screaming.
“You bitch! You fucking bitch! You made a play for him, didn’t you? You tried to sleep with my boyfriend.”
Becca flinched. “I didn’t. I swear. I would never do that. Jordan, you know me. I don’t do that.”
“Because no one wants you. Because you’re ugly and disgusting and everyone thinks you’re stupid. I hate you.” Tears slid down her face. “Kaylee was right. You’re awful and she’s lucky not to have to see you ever again. I hope you die.”
Becca was already moving toward the door. Her chest was tight, her heart pounding and the nausea had returned.
Sisters Like Us Page 15
