When Girlfriends Step Up (17 page)

“You startled me, Janet,” I said. I set my mug on a stack of papers on my desk.

“What’s with the new clothes?”

Why does she even notice? Or care? I thought her world revolved around her.

As I turned towards her, I watched her eyes grow to the approximate size of golf balls. I withheld my laughter.

“I needed some maternity clothes.” Simple and concise. And shocking.

“What? Wha— When? Who? Huh?”

I couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore. “Baby’s due December seventh. Exciting, huh?”

“Wow. Well, uh…”

“Yeah, I know. I was a bit surprised myself, too. But, sometimes these things happen.” I took my seat and started up my computer. “Sometimes little surprises show up and whatcha gonna do, huh?” I flashed her a bright smile, remaining unexpectedly upbeat and nonchalant about the whole thing.

When the shock finally subsided Janet returned to her usual, predictable vindictive self. She let out a forced guffaw. “I don’t know whether to say congratulations or I’m sorry.”
 

Wow, she and Brandon could hit it off.
 

I wanted to tell her, “Then don’t say anything at all,” but I decided against it. Seriously, did
anyone
watch
Bambi
when they were kids? All I replied with was, “I’ll take congratulations. Thank you.”

Janet shook her head roughly and started to get to work. “I guess some women have their priorities. Looks like I
will
be the one getting that PM position. The Board would be nuts to hire a woman who
obviously
has other priorities in life. Not that there was ever any doubt. Anyone can see I’m clearly the right woman for the job.”

I had so many things I wanted to say to Janet the Bitch right then, but nothing would come out. I couldn’t form the words properly nor bring myself to say anything—anything at all. And then, while my hands were balled up into fists and my mouth was drawn tight, glaring at the back of her tiny pinhead, I heard Lara’s voice running through my mind, “You need to keep your stress level low. Think of the baby.”

So I yanked open my desk drawers and took out my bag of cherries, and the reel of ultrasound photos from my purse. I then slammed my drawers closed as the best response to Janet I could muster. I cut one of the photos from the reel—the one where you could clearly see my baby’s profile—and taped it to the bottom of my computer monitor.
 

Looking beautiful, baby!

***

“I really hate her,” I told Lara over the phone while I waited in line at the nearby Quiznos during lunch break. “She says the most asinine things sometimes. No. All the time. She’s a bitch. I can’t stand her.” I caught some harsh looks from the other customers in line, so I lowered my voice.

“Don’t get yourself worked up over her,” Lara replied. “She’s just a stupid co-worker who sounds miserable in her own life and wants to make everyone else around her just as miserable. Forget about it.”

“I guess.”

“You should be excited that your meeting with your boss went so well. And that you’re getting some nice time off later.” She was right. “And remember, keep that stress low. It’s not healthy, pregnant or not.” Right again. “And when you find yourself getting all worked up over her, look at your baby picture and know that you’re doing all of this for her…or him. Never mind the assholes in life.”

There was only one more customer ahead of me in line; I needed to wrap up the call soon, because there’s nothing I hate more (aside from Janet) than people who talk on their cell phones when ordering or paying for their food or groceries. Just talking away and ignoring the person behind the counter who is trying to offer customer
service
.

“And, don’t forget that in a couple weeks’ time we’ll be enjoying the high life for the Fourth of July. Nothing to worry about
at all
.”

Yeah, except for how I’ll probably look like a disaster in my bathing suit.
 

It was my turn to order. “Got to go, girl. Love ya. See you after work.” I slipped my cell phone into my purse and proceeded to order. I was about to add an iced tea to my order when I heard Sophie’s voice, this time ringing through my head reminding me to steer clear of caffeinated beverages. “And a water, please,” I ordered. Surprisingly, the no-caffeine rule wasn’t too tough to live by, and I was feeling fine without it by then. At first, my withdrawals were a little painful—a couple of splitting headaches that I simply had to ride out since I (surprise, surprise) couldn’t take over-the-counter pain medication as a pregnant woman.
 

“Whoa, feeding an army there, Robin?” a familiar voice
 
asked. I picked up my large tray of food. It was Bobby Holman.
 

Crap, I hope he didn’t hear me talking about Janet.

“Bobby!” I said, taking note that he was at the end of the current line, meaning he must have recently walked in, so there was no chance he could have heard my phone call.
 

Phew.

“Can I join once I order really quick?”

“Uh, sure.”
 

Not that I planned on eating lunch with anyone today…but…all right.

 
“Congratulations, Robin,” Bobby said, taking a seat at my table for two. “Was teasing you back there. You know, since you’re feeding two now.”

“Aw, so the word is out, huh?” I’d spent most of the morning on the phone and hadn’t meandered about the office halls. Whether anyone other than Mr. Lober, myself, and the Bitch with whom I regrettably shared an office knew of my pregnancy was unknown. Looks like word travels fast.

“I didn’t know you were planning on having kids yet.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly
planned
.”
 

Awkward. Shaping out to be a very awkward lunch here.

“Congratulations just the same. And congratulations to the proud papa, too.”

“Just me,” I said, nibbling on my chips.

He looked confused.

“No father. Just me.” I gave him a weak smile.

“Ah, sorry about that.” He looked uncomfortable, probably wondering if there was no father because we split up, or he croaked, or something dramatic like that. Probably wouldn’t peg Miss Robin Sinclair to be the kind who’d get knocked up from a one-night stand.

“Don’t be. Nothing to be sorry about. It’s in the past. From here on out it’s me and baby.” I sat up a little taller in my seat, showing that I was fine with there not being a father in the picture. “Me, baby, and my girls, of course.”

We chatted for a few minutes, on a personal level, me dishing about my girlfriends—how they were the only supportive team I had, and how I wouldn’t know what I’d do without them. Even if I had a supportive family and the baby’s father was in the picture, I still wouldn’t know what I’d do without Lara, Claire, Sophie, Jackie, and Emily. We shot the breeze about work, too, even shared a few cracks about Janet and her much too serious demeanor. That was rather refreshing, seeing how I wondered half the time if I was the only one who could see Janet for what she truly was—a self-righteous, hell-on-wheels Medusa of a woman.
 

Bobby and I didn’t talk about the project management position, which was sort of a relief. I thought of asking if he’d try for the position, seeing how I was curious and missed the opportunity to ask last time we had a chat. But what did it really matter? Whether or not Bobby tried for the position should have no bearing on my chances. Or on my decision to I try for it or not.

And if Bobby
did
get it, great for him. Besides, I was growing more and more confident over the course of our lunch that if he did become the PM, he’d certainly choose to have me on his team. And I kind of liked that idea. I wouldn’t mind working alongside Bobby. He was intelligent, easy-going, kind, and very personable. He’d make a great team leader, not to mention wouldn’t be bad eye candy. That wavy, auburn hair, those piercing blue eyes that I could take a bath in, that determined chin, and that ass. Not bad. But what was I thinking? Bobby Holman had a girlfriend, and he clearly wasn’t interested in being any form of partner with me other than a project teammate or co-worker.
And,
I was four months pregnant with some guy’s baby. For all Bobby knew, I was in the middle of a messy breakup. Or in the midst of a vicious custody battle. Who knows what he thought of Miss
pregnant
Sinclair.

I can’t deny it, though; that lunch turned out to be really enjoyable. It was as if we’d known each other for years, as if we shot the breeze together all the time. What I was sure at first would be an awkward situation, having to explain how I was single and pregnant, turned out to be a pleasant lunch with a nice co-worker. No flirting, not
too
much personal talk; just an easygoing lunch at a Quiznos on a random Monday afternoon.
Strictly business
, I had reminded myself repeatedly. And just because Bobby said we should do it again some time didn’t imply that this time, or the next time, or any other time for that matter, would be for pleasure.
 

Strictly business, Robin. Strictly business with a nice co-worker. Even if it does oddly feel like he’s been your friend for a long time. Remember: He has a girlfriend. A girlfriend. And you’re pregnant, pregnant, pregnant.

“How about next week?” Bobby asked, opening the door for me.

“Next week? For what?” I clicked the car unlock button on my key ring.

“For lunch. Next Monday sound good? Or are you taking some vacation for the holiday?”
 

I rattled my brain, trying to remember if I had anything planned for Monday.

“I think that should work. Sounds great,” I said somewhat nervously. Maybe this “strictly business” thing wasn’t as strict as I’d thought. He did seem eager to make sure we had another lunch planned. This one had happened by chance, and I didn’t think he’d enjoyed it
that
much that he’d really want to do an official repeat. So soon. I mean, don’t get me wrong—I could easily stare at him and breathe in his cologne over another lunch.

“Then next Monday. Noon. It’s a date,” he said, shutting my car door for me and giving me a small wave. “See you back at the office,” I heard him say through my closed door.
 

Date? It’s a ‘date’?
 

I didn’t like the sound of that. I’d been that girl who stepped in between a relationship before. There was no way in hell I was about to make a repeat mistake like that again. I quickly started my car engine and rolled down the window.
 

“Monday. The date’s the ninth?” I sounded like a moron, but I was trying to squirm my way out of believing, or agreeing, to anything that connoted a “date.”

He chuckled. “Last I checked my calendar. See you back at the office, Robin.” He got into his own car, still laughing.

Well, you may have made yourself look like a babbling moron, Robin, but at least you feel better about this “date” thing. I do feel better. Don’t I?

Though I wasn’t keen on the mere mention of a date (whatever that was supposed to imply), I did like the idea of having another lunch with Bobby. I didn’t need to be the cause of a potential breakup, however, or any relationship discord with Bobby and his apparent girlfriend. Sure, we could do a lunch together. A planned lunch. A business lunch…

I started to pull out of the driveway. Enough time spent at Quiznos that afternoon; enough time being tortured by images of that sweet, curly-haired blondie standing in Trafalgar Square, cuddled up close to Bobby, clawing my eyes out and choking the life out of me for stealing her boyfriend.

I needed a vacation, and I needed one fast. Things were already strange in my personal life. Work didn’t need to become awkward too.

Chapter Twelve

“Is this exciting or what?” Jackie screeched from the front passenger seat of Lara’s luxurious Audi. Even the back seats were lavish and comfortable. I stretched out my legs and leaned my head back on the soft pillow of a headrest. Friday had finally arrived and in all its fabulous glory brought with it a holiday weekend filled with nothing but R & R—
stylish
R & R.

Lara wound her way through the nearly endless turns and hills and picturesque streets as we made our way into the Green Lake district, mere minutes from Chad’s parents’ home. I watched the vivid green of the tree-lined streets pass by, thinking not only of how surreal it was that in only a handful of months I was going to have a baby, but also about the simply stated fact that I
was
going to be doing
just
that—having a baby! Was I really ready? I don’t think anyone is ever fully prepared to have a baby—to go into labor, to bring into this world another person, to be responsible for it in every way imaginable. Yet prepared to love it? Absolutely!

As the weeks had passed, I continued reading
You’re Going to Be a Mother
and learning of my baby’s size each week (“approximately the size of a kidney bean,” “just about the size of a pearl onion now,” “Wow! The size of an apple!”). And as time went on, the love and adoration for my baby only grew. Yet with love, excitement, and sheer joy at the idea of finally meeting my son or daughter came naturally the overwhelming fear and uncertainty. I’d never done this before. I had never fathomed I’d be doing it so soon in life. And without the father here. When a girl dreams of her love life, of her happily ever after, and of having her first baby, she usually doesn’t picture my whole scenario.

But hey, the past is the past and there’s nothing I can do about it. Like Lara had told me: The future is yours and it will be whatever you choose to make of it. Whenever I grew weary thinking about going into labor and facing motherhood straight-on so soon, I’d remind myself of Lara’s prudent advice. So simple but oh-so-true.

So, little baby.
I rubbed at my stomach, wondering if its head was on the right side of my womb right now, or maybe the left. Was he doing somersaults? Was she stretching her little arms or moving her tiny fingers?
Well, your mommy will do the best that she can.