"Sure, what?"
"If you were me, what would you do?"
She gave me a tentative smile. "I didn't want to be pushy, but since you asked…" She glanced down at my stomach. "I'd just tell him."
Something about her look made me pause. In a carefully neutral voice, I said, "Tell him what?"
"Nothing." And then, she made a point to look at everythingexceptmy stomach.
Oh, crap.Talk about embarrassing. My face was burning now. I said, "There's nothing to tell. I mean, not like that, anyway."
"Oh. Of course." She cleared her throat. "Sorry. My mistake."
I studied her face. Shedidbelieve me, right? I sure hoped so, because I definitely wasn't pregnant. And yet, a small part of me almost wished that I was. I wanted a whole bunch of kids, and I could think of nothing better than to have them with a guy I loved.
And only one guy fell intothatcategory – Joel.
Of course, in my fantasy world, Joel felt the same way, and would move heaven and earth for us to be together. But it wasn't really like that, was it?
Besides, I hadn't seen Joel in weeks, and my cycle had been obnoxiously normal. In spite of my daydreams, this was definitely a good thing. I was alone, babies were expensive, and I couldn't even pay to get my sewer fixed.
It was almost enough to make me cry. But now wasn't the time or the place. So I summoned up a shaky smile and tried not to throw up.
Luna eyed me with continued concern. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
From the look in her eyes, I didn't want to speculate on what kind of help she was offering. But if it involved knitting baby booties, I wouldn't have been surprised.
It was so thoughtful and so awkward all at the same time. Suddenly desperate to change the subject, I forced a laugh. "Sure, you know a good sewer contractor?"
"Why? Do you need one?"
I looked heavenward. "You have no idea." My stomach twisted at the mere thought. Where on Earth was I going to get the money? Trying not to sound as worried as I felt, I forced another laugh. "So if you know anyone with a backhoe, you know where to send them."
With a ding, the elevator stopped, making my stomach lurch with the change in momentum. When the doors slid open, I thanked Luna for all of her help and rushed into the lobby, leaving Luna to ride back up alone.
The doorman was still there, but this time, he was obnoxiously polite. It shouldn't have mattered, but I couldn’t help but feel the tiniest bit of satisfaction by his change in demeanor.
See, I'm not a groupie. So there.
Of course, I might've feltmoresatisfaction if I didn't end up sprinting for the lobby bathroom, where I said goodbye to my nachos, along with any hope of leaving with my dignity intact.
Five hours later, I arrived home, exhausted from everything – my stupid food choices, the long hours on the road, and too much thinking along the way. Long-term, I still didn't know what to do, but short-term, there was something that simply couldn’t wait.
Ihadto call Joel.
