Just when I thought I wouldn’t make it through today without Zara, it’s being proven that I was wrong. She turns her attention to the lady next to her, and I zone in on the front of the room where Dr. Cam and my doctor are standing.
Within five minutes they’re introducing themselves and running down our agenda for the day. They quickly go around the room, allowing those who are new and want to, to introduce themselves. I pass this time around as I’m not comfortable opening myself up to the world yet. Maybe next time, but for now I want to be a bystander; observing the world instead of living in it.
I cross my legs and lean back in my very uncomfortable chair as we listen to Dr. Cam start his introduction. His voice echoes through the room as he starts the slide show for us, going through the different stages, side effects, and landing on his last few slides for new treatment options. It’s not really new, but it could be the first time some of the newer people have heard of the way they do the surgery here at the center. It’s the same that I’ve been discussing with mine—the digging, laser, and extracting of all forms and sites of Endo.
The last part causes me to perk up a little more, the partial removal of your ovaries. This is where I feel as if I need a tape recorder, a way to remember exactly what he is saying as I know I won’t when I leave. Out of everything he just explained, the only part that is sticking with me is that if you have a bad ovary it delays your ovulation giving you only half the chance of conception. If you remove a bad egg from the batch, so to speak, your body will adjust and know that it needs to start producing monthly with just one. This is something that wasn’t mentioned at my last appointment.
My mind immediately drifts off to the possibilities. Does this mean that now I only have six chances a year versus if I go through the surgery I could have twelve? I make a mental note to research this a little more and then discuss it at my next appointment. I know Dr. Cam said I could ask afterward, but I like to do my homework before I allow them the influence my choices. I’m not going to get my hopes built up as this is still a fifty-fifty chance that it would work, but it does bring hope into the picture.
The meeting closes, and immediately I make a beeline for the doors. I’m starting to feel caged like a monkey and need fresh air. Not to mention, my brain is in overload with all the information. I have to give it to them… They gave me Kool-Aid, and I’ll be back for the next one. Maybe then I’ll try to mingle and meet some other ladies. I’ll be better prepared next time.
Chapter 6
It’s been two days since I went to the meeting, since I’ve seen anyone. I locked myself inside my house for almost forty-eight hours, cleaning and decompressing my feelings. Now I have to pull it all together to meet Morgan and shop for dresses, and later get ready for the neighborhood welcome dinner.
I’ve not even ventured outside to check my mail as I’m also avoiding the beautiful man who lives a few houses down; you know the one I have to play nice with and welcome this evening. That is one ballgame I don’t need to walk up to the plate for. I’m so messed up right now that I don’t need to pull a single dad into the mix. The disaster that would be is something I call a strike out. Instead, I’m going to try on frilly dresses and make sure that Morgan finds the perfect dress for her perfect day.
Standing in front of the dress shop, I look around and search for Morgan as I can’t believe I actually beat her here. I check my phone for a missed call or text—nothing. I’m about to walk inside to see if, by some chance, I just didn’t see her car when I hear her calling my name. I turn and smile as I watch her stride toward me with Zara and Natasha in tow. I didn’t think they were joining us, but it’ll make the day that much better as we experience this together.
“Sorry, I got tied up at the new bakery finalizing some last minute plans, and this one had to eat,” she says, pointing toward Zara who only smiles as she licks her fingers from what appears to be the remains of a bear claw.
“It’s okay, I was getting worried as I’m never early,” I offer up as I open the door and follow in behind them.
“I know, and I swear I picked the worse time to get married. I don’t know what I was thinking… This wedding planning and grand opening are about to drive me insane. Plus, she’s having Braxton Hicks and will not admit it nor tell Hatcher.”
“Zara!” I exclaim, waiting for her to respond, but she does what she does, shrugs it off and heads toward a rack of bright dresses.
“No, I am not wearing any of those. Can’t we just use the ones that we got the last time?” Natasha asks, which causes Morgan to turn her head so fast I might have gotten whiplash if I was standing any closer.
“We are not reusing anything from that experience. This is a fresh start, which means new things, designs, and even flowers.”
“I agree,” I say, squeezing her shoulders and walking off to join Zara in the search for the perfect dress.
When I’m close enough to her, I lean down and whisper, “You need to tell Hatcher about the contractions.”
“I will; it’s normal, according to the books. I feel great, and he will only stress out.”
“This is true, but if they get strong please let him know.”
“I promise I will,” she says, turning to look at me. Before I can go back to doing what I was, she continues, “Are we good?”
“We’re good, now let’s put it behind us and focus on Morgan.”
All three of us do just that. Our attention is on the bride-to-be, and of course how Zara keeps saying that she needs the spawn out so she can try on dresses. Morgan still hasn’t narrowed down colors. We’ve tried to show her some different ones, but nothing is catching enough for her today. However, she has found what she thinks is the perfect wedding dress. Currently, we are waiting for her to exit the dressing room to showcase it for us.
The last time Morgan was going to get married to that sleaze ball, Simon, it was going to be a December wedding. This time with Jayden, they picked Spring, which allows for all of us to prepare, and as Zara says—be baby bump free. The colors she’s been throwing around are a mixture of gray and purple, and even pink and gray. I mentioned that we do a collection. Instead of each of us wearing the same color, we have our own color scheme. Pink, Lilac, and Mint would be perfect for the occasion, but the jury is still out on this.
“You guys ready?” we hear Morgan ask from the dressing room.
“Hurry up, we want to see,” yells Zara.
The door creaks open, and I can hear her walking. It’s not until she steps around the corner that literally you can hear all three of us hold our breaths. The spaghetti strap design falls perfect on her slender body. It criss-crosses in the front with a silk pleated design, leading down to a rhinestone belt, and flares out over her hips down to the floor. She’s pulled her hair up in a messy bun to showcase her neck. It’s perfect. It’s simple and romantic, just like her and Jayden’s love.
“That’s the one,” Natasha announces from the side of me causing Morgan to smile back at us.
She turns to look in the trifold mirror before saying, “It is the one… This is my dress.” Morgan then turns to the attendant. “This is the one—I want to marry Jayden in this dress.”
Hearing her say those words causes all of us to tear up, and I hear sniffles coming from both directions. It warms my heart to witness this kind of pure happiness that one person can have with someone else. Even though we were excited for Morgan the last time, we all knew something was off. This time it’s going to be perfect.
“Now we need bridesmaids dresses.”
“No, what we need are colors… Can you just pick one that won’t make me look like I still work at the bakery on your wedding day?” Zara whines.
“I’ve already picked them out, and no you won’t look like the bakery.”
“When did this happen?” Natasha asks in a weird tone that I don’t think any of us have ever heard from her.
“Yesterday, Jayden actually came up with them. Coral and navy blue.”
/> “That’s totally what he would pick,” I say as I laugh.
“All of you will wear blue and our flowers will be coral with navy silk wrapped around the stems.”
“Sounds perfect,” I offer up right before Zara speaks.
“Thank God I won’t be knocked up and wearing coral. I’d look like a fish.”
We ignore her remark as this would only feed her sassy mouth that’s gotten worse since becoming knocked up and stand to embrace Morgan in a hug. I take a moment to step back and look at her again, and she’s right—this is the perfect dress for her perfect day.
“Now we eat,” Zara says, and we all agree with her. She’s become one of those actors from the Snickers commercial. When she’s hungry, she’s a beast, and that’s one we can’t put down with a tranquilizer gun.
Lunch was filled with laughter and more wedding talk. Morgan and Zara also explained how the grand opening for the new bakery is going. Which I need to make sure I have the date down correctly. I keep mixing it up, and for the life of me I don’t know why. It’s not like my days are packed with stuff to do; I don’t even know why–it just happens. I confirmed with Zara that I would pick her up promptly at six tonight so we can venture down to the social event of the month.
On the drive home I stopped to get all the ingredients for my chewy Snickerdoodle cookies. I haven’t the slightest idea on why they requested them because not one of those skinny women will eat one. However, I did witness Sheila stuffing her face with them at the last BBQ we had for Fourth of July. It’s mid-August, and the last thing I want to do in this heat is bake cookies. I thought about asking Morgan if I could just make them at the bakery. It has better ventilation than my kitchen, and I can keep my house cooler. I pushed that thought out quickly as I heard her telling Natasha about all the orders she needed to get back to help Jaime with.
Zara was taking the rest of the day off to rest her swollen feet. She has less than a month left, and if she keeps up this pace I have a feeling it could be any day… A part of me wants to alert Hatcher to the contractions she’s having, but if she finds out that could create a whole new monster on the loose. I notice she beat me home as I pass her house, but I don’t stop. I need to get my stuff done first, and confirm a few shoots that I have for this coming week. They are mostly families, couples, and a few engagement pictures, but hey, it’s still work.
I toss all my bags onto the counter and turn the oven on to pre-heat while I gather the rest of my supplies. Usually the baking is left to Morgan and Zara—cakes, cupcakes, and pies, but I can beat up a few award-winning batches of cookies. I’ve been told I can make some mean brownies, too.
With everything placed around the mixing bowls, I measure, dump, and whip the batter like it’s no one’s business. Satisfied with the consistency, I dump the batter on the cookie sheets and place them in the oven. Just as I step away, I remember to set the alarm on the microwave. No reason to start a fire today, as that can be saved for another day and adventure. With about fifteen minutes to kill, I shuffle along to my bedroom and change. The party isn’t fancy, but a fresh pair of boot-cut jeans and a chiffon top are in order for the occasion.
The faint beep beep beep sound echoes toward my room causing me to hurry back to the kitchen. With a quick open of the oven door, I slide the sheets out and place them on the cooling rack. Quickly I count them to double check my math. Twenty cookies… I glance over at the glass bowl and notice I have at least enough dough for another round. I won’t be lucky to get another twenty, but I’ll try my best to make it stretch. Spatula in hand, I remove them carefully and place them down on the rack to cool more and get the next round in the oven. With the temperature outside still muggy from the summer heat, I decide that I need to pull my hair back from my face. While in my master bathroom, I touch up my makeup and spray a light sheen of hairspray on my freshly done hair to tame the loose locks.
I notice it’s close to five and hear the beep again in the kitchen. This round might not have time to cool completely down before I need to head over and get Zara. We decided today that we would arrive early and offer our help before the rest of the neighborhood shows up. In reality Zara just wants to secure the best seat in the house. The other day she wanted to drive the eight houses down, but that all changed. We’ll walk with our heads held high and arms full of sweet treats.
When I arrive at Zara’s, I don’t even have the chance to knock before the door swings open. A very pregnant woman shoos me out of the way and slams the door behind her. “Let’s go,” Zara says, out of breath.
“Are you okay?”
“Peachy, but this kid needs to get out of me, and I’m hungry.”
“Did you not eat or snack? You know better than to wait.”
“I did, but these smell so good, and I know that one family from the next street over will have chicken wings. Do you know how good those sound right now drenched in Ranch dressing,” she says, and I swear I hear her lick her lips while we walk down the sidewalk. I decide to not answer her because anything I say right now will not compare to her need for food. Secretly I say a prayer that this party has chicken wings, or either Hatcher or I will be making a run to the store for some.
As we walk up the driveway, we both stop in our tracks as the cutest little boy runs out to greet us. “Hi, I’m Neil. Welcome to our house,” he says quickly while turning to wave us along. Zara and I both let out a giggle as he is the cutest thing and a very friendly host.
“Sorry about that, he’s just excited for the party tonight. Let me grab those for you,” he says, taking the containers from our hands. “Oh, where are my manners, I’m Evan Taylor, and of course you already met my son, Neil.”
“Zara and Frankie. Thank you,” I respond, pointing between the two of us. When I look back over at Zara, she’s glaring at me with a weird face. I lean in. “Are you okay? Contractions?”
“No, I’m good, but you, my dear, are flushed, and are you turning red?”
I swat her hand away from my face and shake my head at her crazy talk. Okay fine… I admit I might be a little stricken with Evan. I mean, I thought he was cute from my driveway. Now close up to him, I was wrong… Cute is not the word I would use to describe him. Handsome, fit, gorgeous, loaded with muscles. Oh I could continue, but then my face would really be the color of a cherry. Just as I think the word cherry, my mind drift off to what it would be like with those arms wrapped around my waist. Pretty sure I can’t look at anyone right this moment. The heat that’s rising from my toes to my head is showing on my face. I can feel the burn in my checks, and Zara will soon bust me for this one.
“Frankie, are you listening?” I hear Zara ask, bringing me out of my thoughts as I totally took a trip to another planet.
“Oh, sorry, I was trying to remember if I turned the oven off. What did you ask?”
“I didn’t ask anything. Neil wanted to know if you wanted to see his room.”
“Oh, okay… Well sure, show me the way,” I agree, but before I can take the hand he’s offering Evan steps in and grabs him around the waist, lifting him up. “Son, I told you that you can do that another time. Not everyone that comes over needs the tour of your room.”
“Oh, Daaaaddd…” he draws out in the cutest whine I’ve ever heard from a kid.
“How old is he?” I ask with a smile plastered on my face like a hormonal high school girl with a major crush on the quarterback.
“I’m eight. How old are you?” he cuts in to answer before his father who now laughs and reminds him that it’s not nice to ask ladies how old they are.
“Why? She asked me first,” Neil says, shrugging his shoulders.
“It’s okay, I’m twenty-eight, but soon I have a birthday coming.”
“Oh, are you going to have a party? We can come, especially if you have cake. I love cake.”
“We’ll see. I don’t usually celebrate them anymore, but I’m pretty sure Zara can make us a cake for a special treat. She owns a bakery,” I explain and watch his ey
es light up like I just told him she has a toy store.
“Be careful, this one has a huge sweet tooth and will find ways to request cake daily,” Evan says while he ruffles Neil’s hair. “Come on in and make yourself comfortable. You two are the first ones here. Can I get you a drink or anything?”
“Water would be great,” Zara pipes up, and I can tell her wheels are turning and churning next to me.
“Thanks, but I’m okay right now. We thought we’d come early and offer our help before the rest show up.
“Oh, well, I’m ready and just waiting for everyone else. Thanks for the gesture. How far along are you, Zara?” Evan asks as he reaches over to grab a water from a cooler near the table that’s lined with paper plates, napkins, and silverware.
“I’m done like a Butterball,” Zara responds as she leans back and takes a huge gulp from her beverage.
“I remember how that was,” Evan says as he looks over toward Neil, and pain shadows his eyes.
It would be rude to just ask where his wife is. Zara and I both have heard about four different explanations. They all range from he adopted his son to she ran off with a country singer and is touring the world while Evan raises their son. I’m not going to fall for any of it. I know it has to be something different, or harder than I could imagine.
The expression of sorrow, pain, and heartache is written all over his face. It’s then that he turns his head toward me, and I offer a slight smile and get a sideways smirk in return. My head dips down as I take interest in the hardwood floors, turning my head slightly in Zara’s direction. She’s leaned back rubbing her swollen belly. Just when I think she didn’t catch our exchange, her eyes cut in my direction. To my surprise, she smiles and gives a nod. Now, I’m not sure what to think about this. Or do I even think about this? I sigh loudly without realizing it, drawing attention to me. Just as Neil goes to say something, a knock at the door saves me. I watch from my peripheral vision as he gracefully moves past us. A nudge in the arm causes me to turn, but before Zara can say anything, I hold my hand up to stop her. I don’t need a lecture or a warning. There is nothing wrong with admiring the way an exquisitely handsome man looks.
Heated Sweets (A Taste of Love Book 3) Page 5
