Deep (2 page)

I couldn’t do it, not yet.

“Hey, Liz,” he said, deep voice calm, casual.

“Hey.”

Yeah. I was so over him. The date thing had thrown me, but now I was back on track. I just had to compartmentalize any unhelpful lingering feelings, file them away for never.

I took a step closer, daring a peek only to find him watching me warily. He threw back some beer then set the bottle down, swiping his thumb across his mouth to catch a stray drop. In Vegas, he’d first tasted of beer, lust, and need. The most dizzying mix. He had beautiful lips, perfectly framed by his short beard. His hair had grown out of the shaved on the sides and longish on top cool hipster cut, and honestly, he looked kind of shaggy, wild.

And big, though he always looked big.

A silver ring pierced one side of his nose and he had on a green plaid shirt, top button open to showcase his thick neck and the edge of a black rose tattoo. Any money blue jeans and black boots were below. Apart from Vegas at the wedding, and then later that night in my room, I’d never seen him out of jeans. Let me assure you, there’s nothing bad about the man naked. Everything was as it should be and then some. In fact, he’d looked a lot like a dream come true.

My dream.

I swallowed hard, ignoring my perky nipples while firmly pushing the memory back down where it belonged. Buried among the Hannah Montana song lyrics,
Vampire Diary
character histories, and other useless and potentially damaging information collected over the years. None of it mattered anymore.

The room had gone quiet. How awkward.

Ben tugged at the collar of his shirt, shifting in his seat.

Why the hell was he staring at me? Maybe because I was still staring at him. Shit. My knees gave out and I collapsed into the chair with an ever so dainty thud. I kept my eyes cast down because down was safe. So long as I didn’t look at him or this date of his, I’d be fine and dandy. Dinner couldn’t last for more than three, four hours max. No worries.

I half raised a hand in greeting. “Hi, everyone.”

Hey’s and hi’s and variations of both floated back.

“How have you been, Liz?” asked Ev, from further down the table. She was seated beside her husband, David Ferris, Stage Dive’s lead guitarist and songwriter.

“Great.” Crap. “You?”

“Good.”

I sucked in a deep breath and smiled. “Excellent.”

“You been busy with school?” She pulled out a hair tie and bundled her blond hair up into a rough ponytail. God bless the girl. At least it wasn’t just me keeping it casual. “We haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

“Yeah, busy.” Puking and sleeping mostly. Gestating. “School and stuff, you know.”

Normally I’d have an interesting story to tell from my psych studies. Today, nada.

“Right.” Her husband slipped an arm around her shoulders and she turned to smile at him, eyes all lovelorn and our conversation forgotten.

Which worked for me.

I rubbed the toe of my boot back and forth against the floor, looking left and right and anywhere but straight ahead. I toyed with the hem of my tunic, winding a loose thread tight around my finger until it turned purple. Then I loosened it. It probably wasn’t good for the bean, somehow. As of tomorrow, I needed to start studying up on this baby stuff. Get the facts, because getting rid of the bean … it just wasn’t for me.

The date tittered at something he said and I felt a stab of pain inside. Probably gas.

“Here.” Anne filled the glass in front of me with white wine.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Try it,” she said with a smile. “It’s sweet and kind of crisp. I think you’ll like it.”

My stomach tipped upside down just at the thought. “Later maybe. I drank some water right before I arrived. So … yeah, I’m not really thirsty just yet.”

“All right.” Her eyes narrowed as she gave me a that-was-weird smile. All too soon it morphed into a flat, unhappy line. “You look a little pale. Are you okay?”

“Absolutely!” I nodded, smiled, and turned to the woman on my other side before Anne could grill me further on the subject. “Hi, Lena.”

“Lizzy. How you been?” The curvy brunette held hands with her partner, Jimmy Ferris, the lead singer of Stage Dive. He sat at the head of the table, resplendent in an undoubtedly handmade suit. When he saw me he gave me one of the chin tips the guys seemed to specialize in. It said it all. Or at least it said it all when all they wanted to say was
Hey.

I nodded back at him. And all the while I could feel Anne hovering at my side, bottle of wine still in hand and big-sisterly concern growing by the moment, pawing at the ground and getting ready to pounce. I was so screwed. Anne had pretty much raised me from the age of fourteen, when our dad left and our mom checked out on us—one day just went to bed and didn’t get up again. Now and then Anne’s need to nurture still got a little out of control. What she’d have to say about the bean didn’t bear thinking about. It wouldn’t be pretty.

But one problem at a time.

“All good, Lena,” I said. “You?”

Lena opened her mouth. Whatever she’d been about to say, however, was lost beneath the sudden thrashing of drums and insanely loud wailing of guitars. It basically sounded like hell was spilling forth all around us. Armageddon had come a-knocking.

“Babe,” Anne hollered at her husband. “No death metal during dinner! We talked about this.”

Said “babe,” Malcolm Ericson, paused his head banging at the top of the table. “But, Pumpkin—”

“Please.”

The drummer rolled his eyes and, with the flick of a finger, silenced the storm raging through the sound system.

My ears rang on in the quiet.

“Christ,” muttered Jimmy. “Time and a place for shit like that. Try never when I’m around, yeah?”

Mal looked down the length of his nose at the dapper man. “Don’t be so judgy, Jim. I think Hemorrhaging Otter would make a wonderful warm-up act.”

“Are you fucking serious? That’s their name?” asked David.

“Delightfully inventive, no?”

“One way to put it,” said David, nose wrinkled in distaste. “And Ben already picked a warm-up act.”

“I didn’t even get a vote,” grumped Mal.

“Dude.” Ben shoved an irritated hand through his hair. “You’ll all want to hang with your women. I’ll need some people around after the show I can chill and have a beer with, so I went ahead and chose. Suck it up.”

Bitter grumbling from Mal.

Ev just shook her head. “Wow. Hemorrhaging Otter. That’s certainly unique.”

“What do you think, babe?” Jimmy turned to Lena.

“That’s disgusting. I think I’m going to throw up.” The woman swallowed hard, her face going gray. “I mean, I think I really am.”

Huh. And also, ugh, I knew that feeling.

“Shit.” Jimmy started rubbing her back with frantic motions.

Without a word, I pressed my spare plastic puke bag into her hand. Solidarity among sisters, etcetera.

“Thanks,” she said, happily too preoccupied to ask why I’d had it in my pocket in the first place.

“She had some stomach bug before Christmas.” With his spare hand, Jimmy filled Lena’s glass with water and passed it to her. “Keeps messing with her.”

I froze.

“I thought it had gone,” said Lena.

“You’re going to have to go to the doctor. Enough excuses, we’re not that busy.” Jimmy planted a soft kiss on the side of her face. “Tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay.”

“Sounds wise,” said Anne, patting my rigid shoulder.

Holy hell.

“You’ve been sick too, Lizzy?” asked Lena.

“You should both try some green tea with ginger in it,” a voice reported from the other side of the table.

Female.

Damn, it was her. His date.

“Ginger creates warmth and helps to settle an upset stomach. What other symptoms did you have?” she asked, causing me to immediately sink down in my seat.

Ben cleared his throat. “Sasha’s a naturopath.”

“I thought you said she was a dancer,” said Anne, her face screwing up ever so slightly.

“A burlesque performer,” the woman corrected. “I do both.”

Yeah, I had nothing.

A chair scraped against the floor, and then Sasha was standing, peering down at me. Any hopes of avoiding and/or ignoring her presence fled the scene. Bettie Page hair done a vibrant blue, very cool. Christ, did she have to look like she actually had a clue? A bimbo I could handle, but not this. The woman was beautiful and smart, and I was just a dumb kid who’d gone and gotten herself knocked up. Cue the violins.

I smiled grimly. “Hi.”

“Any other symptoms?” she repeated, gaze moving between me and Lena.

“She’s been tired a lot too,” said Jimmy. “Passes out in front of the TV all the time.”

“True.” Lena frowned.

“Lizzy, you said you’d missed some school, didn’t you?” asked Anne.

“Some,” I admitted, not liking the direction this grilling was taking. Time for a smooth segue. “Anyway, how are the plans for the tour going? You guys must all be so excited. I’d be excited. Have you started packing yet, Anne?”

My sister just blinked at me.

“No?” Maybe a sudden outburst of verbal diarrhea wasn’t the answer.

“Hold up. Have you been sick, Liz?” Ben asked, his deep voice softening ever so slightly. Though maybe that was just my imagination.

“Um…”

“Maybe you got the same bug Lena’s got,” he said. “How much school have you missed?”

My throat closed tight. I couldn’t do it. Not here and now in front of everyone. I should have fled for the Yukon rather than come here tonight. No way was I ready for this.

“Liz?”

“No, I’m fine,” I wheezed. “All good.”

“Um, hello,” said Anne. “You said you’d been nauseous for the last few weeks. If I hadn’t been away I’d have dragged you to the doctor’s way back.”

And thank god she’d been on her second honeymoon with Mal in Hawaii. To have found out about the bean with Anne in attendance would have been up there with watching the four horseman of the apocalypse riding into town. Terror, tears, chaos—all of these things and more. Definitely not my idea of a good time.

The date, Sasha, fixed her inquiring gaze to the ever so subtly still gagging Lena.

“Did anyone else get this?” she asked.

“I don’t think so.” Anne looked up and down the table, taking in the various shaking of heads. “Just Lena and Lizzy.”

“We’ve been fine,” said Ev.

“Weird,” said Anne. “Liz and Lena haven’t been around each other since the wedding. That’s over two months ago now.”

Murmurs of agreement.

My heartbeat raced. Mine and the bean’s both.

“Well, I think they should both take a pregnancy test,” announced Sasha, retaking her seat.

A moment’s stunned silence.

“What?” I spluttered, panic coursing through me. Not here, not now, and sure as fuck not this way. Bile burned my throat, but I swallowed it back down, fumbling for the second puke bag.

Ben’s brow wrinkled and there were startled coughs and gasps from others.

But before anyone could comment, a strange screechy noise came from Lena.

“No,” she cried, voice very high and very determined. “No, I am not. You take that back.”

The back-rubbing by Jimmy went berserk. “Baby, calm down.”

She didn’t. Instead, she pointed a shaking finger at the now very unwelcome stranger in our midst. “You have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about. I don’t know, maybe you’ve taken a hit to the head from one of those big fancy dancing fans lately or something. Whatever. But you … you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Okay, let’s calm down a little.” Ben raised his hands in protest.

Sasha kept quiet.

“Lizzy?” My sister’s fingers dug into my shoulder, bruisingly tight. “There’s no chance, right? I mean, you know better than that. You wouldn’t be so stupid.”

My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Suddenly, Lena clutched at her belly. “Jimmy, in your car outside my sister’s wedding. We didn’t use anything.”

“I know,” he said quietly, perfect face white as snow. “Time we fucked against the door, night before you left. We forgot then too.”

“Yeah.”

“Your tits have been really sensitive.” With one hand, Jimmy scrubbed at his mouth. “And you were complaining your dress wouldn’t do up the other day.”

“I thought it was just pie.”

They both stared at one another while everyone looked on. I was pretty damn certain they’d long since forgotten they had an audience for all these intimate details. As dinner entertainment went, this had turned into one hell of a drama, and oh god, the horror of it. My head started to turn in dizzy circles.

“Lizzy?” Anne asked again.

Okay, this wasn’t good. I really and truly shouldn’t have come. But how the hell was I to know Ben would bring along a gynecological psychic? The edges of my vision blurred, my lungs working overtime. I couldn’t get enough air. Not to sound paranoid, but I bet that Sasha bitch had stolen it all. Never mind. The important thing was not to panic.

Maybe I should jump out a window.

“Liz,” a voice said. A different one this time, deep and strong.

However I’d imagined me and Ben having this talk, it was nothing like this. Not tonight, before I’d even processed it myself. Time to go.

“Lizzy?”

Also, wow, if this was the result of having great sex then I was so never going there again. Not even for mediocre sex. Nothing. I might even rule out masturbation, just in case. You couldn’t be too careful. Random attack sperm could be anywhere, just waiting to get a girl into trouble.

I stumbled to my feet, sweaty hands on the table to steady myself. “I should go.”

“Hey.” A big hand cupped my chin. Lines had appeared between Ben’s brows, beside his mouth. But you could only see the hint of them behind his beard, the implication. The man was not happy, and fair enough. “It’s okay, Liz. We’ll get this sorted—”

“I’m pregnant.”

A pause. “What?”

“I’m pregnant, Ben.”

The ensuing silence echoed in my ears, an endless gray noise like something out of a horror movie.

Ben stood bent over the table, breathing heavy. I guess I’d looked to him for strength, but now he seemed every bit as strung out as me.