She: Part 2 (11 page)

“I wanted to hear about your weekend,” she says earnestly.

“
What
?” I exclaim. That’s inconceivable!

“Yeah, chicken, you have loads of things to tell me, I only have one thing to tell you: I’m pregnant,” she smiles. “I have no other information than that.”

But, you
must
, I think. “
How
? When? You’ve got to have
some
details?” I push for more.

“Well, a week last Friday my period was late,” she shrugs, “a day or two is usually no big deal, but then the wine tasted funny at dinner at yours…”

My eyes grow wide, remembering her telling me that in the moment.

“I didn’t want to get my hopes up, so Seamus and I agreed to wait a few more days. Except, of course, I couldn’t. I took the first test on Monday morning, it was positive, and I casually handed it to Shay. After that he was as excited as I was, so over the last week I’ve taken a few more,” she says nonchalantly.

“How many?” I grin.

“Uh, fifteen,” she says sheepishly. “I wanted to be absolutely sure,” she hastens to add.

“I’d say now you are,” I laugh, allowing her incredible news to sink in.

“According to most of them, I’m five weeks along,” she tells me. “So, if you stop taking the pill
today
,” she starts, and I shake my head, laughing again.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” I say.

“But I don’t want to do it alone! I want our kids to grow up together and get married!” she paints me a pretty picture. “Whether
they
want to or not,” she adds, shamelessly.

I reach across the table and take her hand in my own. “Amber, I’m very, very,
very
happy for you, but I don’t want to have children.”
Not now
, I think once more.

She looks a little put out, but then immediately tries another tactic. “What does Logan want?”

“I, um…I don’t know,” I say honestly. How
does
Logan feel about having children, I suddenly wonder. “We haven’t spoken about that,” I add.

“Don’t you think you should ask, seeing as you’re practically engaged?” she pushes.

“We’ve only been together a few weeks,” I remind her pointedly.

“Is he good with children?” Amber asks, her enthusiasm growing again.

Grinning, I admit, “I’ve no idea, Amber. I guess I’ll find out when his family arrives this week. I’ll get to meet his niece.”

“His family is visiting?” she shrieks suddenly.

“Uh, yes. Is that OK with you?” I ask sarcastically.

“For fuck’s sake, Gem, you tell me
nothing
! Must I resort to putting a wire on you? When are we meeting them?

Giggling, I tell her, “
I
’
m
meeting them on Wednesday evening.
You
will not be in attendance.”

“That displeases me,” she says formally, and then thinks things through, concluding, “Hmm, so if you don’t
know
Logan’s stance on children, then there
might
be a chance,” she decides. “Perhaps I could team up with his mother?” she plots. “They always want more grandchildren.”

I grin at her audacity, giving up the fight. There’s no use fighting Amber, she’s more persistent than anyone else I know. Except, maybe, Logan. He did persist with his feelings for me, something he confessed to me the last time I was sat at this table. I gaze around the cafe, suddenly suspicious that it may contain magical powers — the most
amazing
things are revealed here.

I take her hand again. “
Amber
,” I breathe, “I’m in shock, I can’t believe it!”

“Hopefully I’ll have the pictures to prove it on Wednesday afternoon,” she says.

“Pictures?”
Of her and Seamus doing it
?

“Yes, I’m booked for an ultrasound,” she tells me.

“Oh,” I nod.
Head out of the gutter
,
Gem
.

Abruptly, Amber looks a little worried by the prospect, and I know why — it was during her three month checkup last year that she and Seamus were told the horrid news that there was no longer a heartbeat and that she’d miscarried. That was the saddest I’ve ever seen her, and something I desperately hope to
never
see again.

“It’ll be—”

“I know, I know,” Amber says hurriedly, cutting me off, and picking herself up before I can finish my sentence. “It feels different this time,” she says hopefully. “I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be, and Seamus is being very positive, too…so,” she shrugs, “time will tell.”

I give her a small, excited smile and nod in response.
Wednesday
it is
, I think. “I need to message Seamus,” I realise, diving my hand into my bag to retrieve my mobile phone. Spying the time on my home screen, it’s reluctantly that I say to Amber, “I have to get to work soon, baby momma.”

She smiles broadly at her new name, as I type hurriedly:

*Congratulations, baby daddy! Best news ever x*

I go to put my phone back into my bag, when I spot the piece of paper that Buddy wrote his note and drew his drawing on lying in there, and I immediately start giggling once more. I must’ve shoved it in my bag this morning. Pulling it out, I hand it to Amber, who curiously accepts it, her eyes and mouth opening wide when she sees what’s on there.

“I don’t know if I’ve told you, doll, but you and Logan’s best friend, Buddy, are in competition for who can deliver us the best sexual present. After your gift of mirrors, Buddy was determined to better you, and this morning we found his attempt,” I smile.

Humour overcomes Amber’s face as she reads Buddy explanation under his drawing. “Dammit, a sex swing is good,” she then laments.

“Is it?” I question her. I’m not so sure. “I don’t think you can do as many things in a swing as you can do with the mirrors,” I muse. My mind starts showing me gratifying images of Logan and I under the mirrors that rival the erotic drawing of Buddy’s. I shake my head, ridding it of these thoughts.

“You’d know,” Amber grins.

I grin back. “Oh, Amber, those mirrors are the best present you’ve ever given me!” I laugh.
If only I could go and play under them right now
, I sigh.

* * *

Amber and I part company outside of Pierson House after a long hug, during which I mumbled for quite possibly the fiftieth time how ecstatic I am that she’s pregnant. I then wave her away and linger outside of the office for a minute before I speed dial my mom’s salon. Although she’s away, I’m hopeful that one of her employees will know something about the dating profile
and
I need to book in Mary-Gene’s appointment. Lucie answers — just the gal I want to speak to.

“Salut Lucie, c’est Gemima,” I say. Ordinarily, I’d love to chat with her for awhile but my unexpected lunch date with Amber means that I’m already pushing the edges of my allotted time for lunch. Getting straight to the point, I ask, “Has my mom mentioned anything to you about creating an online dating profile for me?” I ask, crossing my fingers and hoping she knows something about it. “My boyfriend won’t be too best pleased,” I add.

“Ah, about that… Wait, you have a boyfriend? That’s fast work!”

I grin. “Uh,” what do I say to that? I settle for, “Thanks. His name is Logan. He’s the best thing since sliced bread,” I tell her.

“I am French, I do not like sliced bread,” she quips. “That’s exciting news, Gem. I am happy for you…so is Bianco; he’s here, eavesdropping.”

“Hi, B,” I smile, and I hear him shouting hello in the background. “Before I forget, can you please book in a couple of back-to-back appointments with my mom on Friday evening for me? Anytime after six would be great,” I request.

I hear her tapping on the computer. “Sure,” she says. “All done. Now, uh, about that profile…Bianco and I have a confession: it was not your mom’s work, it was ours. After hearing your woeful tale at the Lonely Hearts Party, Bianco and I thought you could do with a good man and a good time, so we set it up,” she confesses.

The culprits are caught, I sigh in relief, as behind me I hear the doors of Pierson House open. “I’ll have you know that I had a
very
good night after that party,” I smile into my phone. “I was with Logan,” I tell her, letting her imagination make of my words what it will.

Behind me someone coughs loudly, making me jump and turn around. It’s Amélie; she’s standing, watching me, listening to what I’ve been saying.
Shit
! I feel my face flush. That’s embarrassing!

“I’m just finishing my lunch break,” I say weakly, my eyes wide and mortified.

“I don’t care,” she shakes her head.

Uh…OK.

“I’ll be thirty seconds,” I tell her. “Lucie, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Oui, très bien,” she says. “I’ll delete the profile,” she promises. “How did you find out about it anyway?”

“Logan’s best friend told me,” I say, trying to ignore Amélie’s eyes narrowing.

“Oh…is he single?” she wonders.

I laugh at the ludicrous thought of them together. “You don’t want to go out with Buddy,” I’m sure of it. “You’re too nice for him,” I say, without thinking through my present company. I blush again.
Double
shit! I did not think Amélie’s eyes could get any narrower, but they have. I remind myself how legendary her tantrums are, and how little I want to witness one first hand. Suddenly, I’m scared.

“Bye, Lucie,” I say mournfully. I tap the End Call button and slowly look up at Amélie. As innocently as I can, I say, “Did you need something?”

“I just wanted to say well done,” she says in her imperial tone.

“Well…well done?” Why can’t I help feeling suspicious?

“Yes, I’ve seen that you’ve completed three projects and signed on two new clients. That’s an excellent morning’s work, Gemima, so…well done.”

Phew
! “Thanks,” I say, abruptly feeling safe from any tantrum.

She nods and we stand together in an awkward silence for a few moments, before she enquires, “Do you have everything ready for Wednesday? Implementing Mr. Leary’s garden?” she reminds me.

“Oh, yes, it’s all organised.”

“Very good. I’m looking forward to your full report on it, including photos, handed in promptly. No doubt Mr. Leary could use somewhere to rest his bruised hand after his fight last week…”

Ah
, she knows too. “He’s fine,” I say, trying to steer the attention away from me, who told Amélie the morning after that
nothing
happened the night before. A slight bending of the truth.

“And the recipient of the attack?” she enquires. “He is your ex, no?”

Hmm
…my earlier suspicions kick in, and I start to doubt that Amélie came out here to praise me. More like fish for details. However, it seems she already has them! How could she possibly know that Jerry was my ex? Does the entire construction and design industry have nothing better to do on the weekend than to gossip about Logan?

“It was
not
an attack. Logan did
barely
anything wrong,” I insist. “Jerry is my ex. Though, I neither know nor care how he’s doing,” I say.

She cracks a smile at my callous words. “Yes, it can be a little like that with ex’s, can’t it?” she says, knowingly.

I nod. “I, uh, really should get back to work.”

“Fine,” she permits. But before I can leave her company, she says, “Just one question, before you go: how long have you known?”

“Known what?” I wonder.

“About Mr. Jackson and myself?” she clarifies.

Mr. Jackson? Oh! That must be… “
Buddy
?” I check, and she nods.
Fuck
! What do I do now? Act ignorant, or confess? “I, uh…um…”

She surveys me shrewdly.

“Not long,” I finally own up.

“And your discretion—”

“Is assured,” I say definitely.

“Good.”

“How did you know I knew?” I ask.

“On the telephone, just now. Your face gave you away; it’s very expressive.”

Way to go
,
Gem
, I chide. Where’s my damn poker face when I need it? “I’m sorry about what you overheard,” I blurt out. “I didn’t mean to be rude or indelicate.”

“I understand. Let us not talk about this again,” she says, an air of finality in her voice.

“Uh, right, yes, OK,” I mumble.

“That’ll be all, Miss. Samuels,” she says, and just like that, I’m dismissed.

4. Empire

M
y afternoon is slower than my morning. A fault in the IT department means that the internet is down, making the online research that I wanted to do for my new projects impossible. I delight in hearing my phone ring an hour before the end of the working day. Please be someone that’ll talk my ear off for the next hour, I beg, as I answer in my usual receptionist-style.

My wish is granted: it’s Logan.

“Look up,” his voice purrs.

I do, expectantly, and I’m not left disappointed. He’s standing in the doorway between reception and the large room in which my cubicle sits. He is simply perfection. Automatically, I stand as he walks over to my desk.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, pleased by the surprise.

He bows his head to brush his soft lips against mine. “We’ve got a meeting,” he smiles at me.

“No, we don’t,” I stammer.
Do we
?

“Yes,” Logan insists, “look, it’s right here…” He retrieves a pen from my desk and proceeds to write in my work diary under Monday, March 3rd:

Meeting with Logan Leary at 4.30PM
♡

“You
are
good at drawing love hearts,” I tease him.

Laughing, he says, “There’s not much to it, baby.” Then he takes my hand and (no doubt having been in one before during previous business meetings with Amélie) he leads the way to one of the meeting rooms, aptly choosing the one room whose blinds are down. Butterflies fill my tummy as he pulls me inside and changes the sign on the door from
Vacant
to
Meeting in Progress: Do Not Disturb
. He shuts the door and turns to look at me, his eyes filled with longing.

I try to ignore the feelings that have abruptly risen in me; such amorous emotions are not welcome at my place of work. I try to be cool and casual as I say, “So, this meeting…what did you want to discuss?”