Page 17 of The Man I Love

Sam tried to keep a straight face, but when Renee snorted, it was over. Soon they were thrust into kid-like behavior, giggling and snorting, and holding onto their stomachs. “I’m going to pee my pants!” Renee said, her eyes bulging in a way that made Samantha think she was serious.

Panic filled Sam’s chest, and she picked up the napkin, tossing it to Renee’s lap. “Here.”

“What am I supposed to do withthis?” Renee sputtered, tossing the napkin back on the table.

Samantha wiped her tear-streaked cheeks and squeaked out a reply, “I—I have—no idea.”

Eventually, the giggles ceased, and Renee blotted the tears at the corners of her eyes. With all the stress over the last few months––the homesickness, the pressure of The Gallery and her desire to make everything perfect––laughing with her best friend seemed to recharge her soul.

Renee reached for her tea but paused, glancing over the rim of her paper cup. “There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.” Her tone was mischievous and coy.

That’s not something they did, secrets. In fact, there wasn’t anything they didn't share with one another.

“I wanted to tell you the other day, but Phin made me wait until we were sure …”

Hairs prickled on the back of Sam’s neck, and she sat straighter. “What is it?”

“I’ve been feeling sick… I knew it was possible, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

Sam sat forward, bracing her elbows on the table. “Ren,” Sam urged. “What’s going on?”

“I’m pregnant,” Renee blurted out.

Sam blinked, unsure if she’d heard correctly. The last time they’d talked about kids, Renee had mentioned a two-year hold. “What?”

“I’m pregnant,” Renee mouthed.

Clapping a hand over her lips, Sam half rose from her seat. “Oh my God! What?” She glanced at Renee’s still flat stomach. “How far?”

“Eight weeks,” Renee cried. “I just found out a couple of days ago. I thought I was just tired—I’ve wanted to tell you, I swear. Phin was nervous and wanted to wait. I knew you would cry. Are you mad? Seriously, I needed to tell you in person.”

“How could I possibly be mad?” Sam wiped tears of joy from her cheeks. “You’re having a baby! A baby! Does Tristan know?”

“No.” Renee shook her head. “You’re the first person I’ve told outside of Phin. My mom is going to kill me if she finds out I told you first.”

Sam cupped both of Renee’s cheeks. “You’re going to be the best mom. And I’m going to spoil her rotten!”

“Her?” Renee mumbled.

“Of course it’s a girl.” Sam released her face. “That’s what we planned, isn’t it?”

“We did.”

“Chrystal Ambrosia. Right?”

“Oh my God!” Renee settled back in her seat. “And your daughter …” She searched the air as though the memory lingered in the clouds above them. “Daisy Lou!”

Samantha bit her lower lip. “Daisy Lynn,” she corrected in a dreamy, distant voice, thinking about all the plans they’d made when they were young. Though only one of those plans had lingered into adulthood. The dream of one day being mothers together. They’d live on the same block, spend their mornings drinking coffee and watching their children play through the kitchen window, and chat about everything and nothing for hours.

“What’s wrong?” Renee asked when Samantha was quiet for a full minute.

“Nothing.” Sam shook her head.

“You’re lying.”

“No…” Sam picked at the edge of the table, keeping her eyes averted. She didn’t want to make this special moment all about herself but could already feel herself becoming emotional.

Renee stomped her foot, forcing Sam’s eyes upward. All the doubts Sam had been having since she moved to Brooklyn fell out of her mouth. “I'm not sure I know what I’m doing here.” She picked up her drink and took a gulp, hoping to drown her thoughts with the now lukewarm latte.

---