Page 94 of Negotiating Tactics

“No,” I said. “I really like that outfit. You look great!”

She did, the peach and gray skirt and gray sweater making her skin glow. I, on the other hand, was wearing sweats and looked incredibly out of place in Dominic and Birdie’s penthouse, though, like always, Birdie made me feel at home.

“Thanks, Alex,” she said, though she still looked suspicious.

Aunt Clem walked over to me and handed me a bottle of seltzer.

“It’ll calm your stomach,” she said.

Aunt Clem had decided we should meet at Birdie’s today, saying she wanted a change in scenery.

I was happy to go anywhere.

The last few weeks had been awful, but I was trying my hardest to come out of it.

Still, every day was a struggle.

There was no place in my home that didn’t remind me of Noah, and my tiny one-bedroom apartment felt impossibly empty without him.

But I was determined to get over my heartbreak.

Determined to get my life back, broken heart be damned.

Aunt Clem settled in one of the dining chairs and looked at me with a level stare. “How far along are you?”

My brows lifted. “How far along in what?”

She huffed. “I never had any myself, but I’ve been around enough pregnant women to know one when I see one, Alex,” Aunt Clem said.

My brows shot up, and my eyes widened. “Aunt Clem, are your support hose too tight?” I said.

She laughed, then lifted one of her small feet, the thick black orthopedic shoe making her thin legs look positively tiny.

“They are a little bit snug, but that doesn’t mean you’re not pregnant,” she said, her eyes never wavering from mine.

“Aunt Clem, I am not preg?—”

I looked at Birdie for support, but then cut off when I saw the even expression on her face.

“You were saying?” Birdie finally said.

“I wasn’t saying anything,” I said, taking a sip of the seltzer water and feeling immediate relief.

A fact I steadfastly refused to analyze.

Aunt Clem looked at Birdie. “No, she wasn’t saying anything, especially if she was about to try to deny that she’s pregnant.” She faced me. “So how far along are you?”

I pursed my lips. “Aunt Clem, I am not pregnant,” I said, proud of myself for speaking the last word.

“You have been tired,” Birdie pointed out, her expression so neutral I knew she was just humoring me.

“Of course, I’m tired. I’ve been working like a crazy person,” I countered, having thrown myself even harder into work, desperate for any escape for the pain of what Noah had done.

And the pain of living without him.

“Which is out of the ordinary how exactly?” Birdie said.

“And, you know,” I said, on the defensive, pressing on like I hadn’t heard Birdie, “there’s the not too small fact that the man I thought I loved—” I cut off, swallowing the tears threatening at the mention of Noah.

---