“Sounds like them.”
“And I got a text from my mom saying that she’s got crab dip at her house, so I can sneak over and eat it in the next day or so. She said she’ll even throw my clothes in the wash, so the smell doesn’t bother Lainie. That’s love.”
“Holy hell. It sure is. Elaine is that sensitive to smells? I didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Yea, I mean, I know morning sickness can be brutal, but this is next level. Here,” he pushes the door open. “I just got off the phone with the doctor, and I want to tell you guys what’s up.”
We step inside, and I see that Elaine is back in bed, now in a conversation with Ev. “What did the doctor say?” she asks, as all her attention turns to Simon.
Simon settles in on the bed next to Elaine and I take the seat next to her brother.
“So, Dr. Sutherland wants to see you ASAP, love. She’ll do an exam and unless things change drastically overnight, you’ll get fluids, too. She told us to be there at 11 tomorrow. I talked to Daryl before he left. He said you can work from home or do whatever suits you. I figured Molly could bring you the stuff that you can’t get digitally.”
“Of course,” I offer.
“Wait, you said tomorrow at 11?” Elaine’s scowling down at her phone.
“Yeah, that was the only time she could squeeze us in tomorrow. Her next slot wasn’t until Thursday, and baby, there’s no way we can wait that long.”
“I know. My mom actually complimented me on my appearance. That’s how I know I’ve lost weight.” None of us respond. Elaine’s mother is awful, and we all know it. But wait. That means she’s Ev’s mom, too. Hmmm...no wonder Elaine says he rarely shows up to family functions.
“We have an appointment with the photographer tomorrow. At 11.”
“Babe, we’ll have to reschedule. You are literally fainting. We’ve got to get you in to see Dr. Sutherland, sooner rather than later.”
“No argument here, Wonderboy, but we can’t reschedule, either. These appointments are so hard to get. If we want to book her, we’ve got to do it this week.”
“No problem. Nick doesn’t go into the shop until late afternoon anyway. And I bet Dunc can take a long lunch. They’ll go for us.”
“No way.” I say, just as Ev pipes in with “Hell, no.” And Elaine adds, “Sweet Jesus, no.”
“What? They’re good guys.”
“The best, honey, no one is arguing that. It’s just that…”
“What my lovely sister is trying to say is that if you want a bro-themed wedding, they’re your guys. If you want anything fit for the general public, don’t send them. I heard all about Dunc’s bachelor party.”
“God, I forgot about that. Those mice were everywhere. We didn’t even get our security deposit back.”
Elaine and I exchange a look at the mere mention of mice. I shake my head in disbelief. “I’ll go.” I volunteer, just as I hear the same words escape Ev’s mouth.
“You guys will go? Really? That’s perfect.” The look of relief on Elaine’s face cements my fate. “Molls, you know exactly what we like. And Ev, you have great taste, too. Are you sure you don’t mind staying in town a few more days?”
Ev turns toward me, and his glance is heated. “No, E, I don’t mind at all.”
“Yes, Steve, I’ll be sure to tell Elaine to ignore the sentence fragments. I’m sure she knows they’re your signature style.” I refrain, just barely, from rolling my eyes at my coworker, and that’s only because he’s standing in my office and I don’t have time to get into a full-on argument or even a quick middle-school-style refresher of why fragments aren’t anyone’s ‘signature style.’ I’ve got places to be and a bunch of work I need to grab before I go.
Once Tall Steve has blessedly left my work space, I begin shoving Elaine’s files into the tote I brought along. I love Chesapeake Shores, don’t get me wrong. It’s quirky; it’s friendly; it’s the best place I’ve ever worked. We sell crab hats and lobster-shaped pens, for fuck’s sake! Most of my co-workers are delightful and the rest are usually tolerable. Our boss, Daryl, is a teddy-bear of a guy. My salary is above industry standard, and I even get three weeks paid time off every year. Can I really complain? Ok, I can. The only drawback to Chesapeake Shores is that half the company is technology-illiterate. Okay, probably not half. But a solid twenty percent. And they’re not remotely willing to learn. God bless Simon for dealing with this madness while he worked here as the head of IT. Dan’s been filling in and doing an admirable job, but it’s no easy task, I’m sure.
So, instead of carting home a flash drive for my best friend, or, heaven forbid, asking these guys to share their work with her, I’m toting home actual hard copies for her to proof and then type. Gah. Is it 1986? And don’t even get me started on the trees…
My door creaks, and I swear I’m about to lose my mind. I need to leave in five minutes if I want to get to the photography studio on time, and I really wanted to check in with Daryl before I left. “Look, Steve, I was trying to be kind, but I just have to say this: a sentence needs a verb. It just does, okay?”
“Totally fine with me.” A deep, clear voice, that is definitely not Steve’s, emanates from my doorway. I straighten and turn around, knowing I’ll find Ev Madigan there.
What the hell is he doing here? He must’ve gotten my number from Elaine because he texted me last night. And I clearly said I’d meet him there. “I thought we were meeting at the studio?”
“I figured we could carpool. Better for the environment and all that. Plus, my rental car is a Porsche 911 Turbo convertible, so…”
