Page 11 of Unexpecting

″You didn’t tell her the best part,” Morgan interrupted eagerly.

I met Morgan during my first year at university. When we met, Morgan was quiet, a little shy, and a bit overwhelmed moving into the city from the small town where she grew up. Plus she’d never had a serious boyfriend. Not that I was some urbane sophisticate, but at least I was familiar with Toronto, having grown up in the West End. Morgan and I lived across the hall from each other in residence, and since we both loved eighties music, watched Beverly Hills 90210, and drank Long Island Iced Tea, our friendship was inevitable and instantaneous.

Like all of us, Morgan has gone through a few changes over the years. This gorgeously groomed woman sitting across from me is a far cry from the shy nineteen-year-old with the outdated haircut and the denim overallsshe wore practically every day. Now, Morgan is almost clapping her hands with excitement over a pair of shoes. Did I mention the effect Brit has had on Morgan over the years?

To start with, the clothes. I used to be into shopping as much as the two of them—which was the main reason I got into debt so deeply—but while I finally managed to learn to control myself, Morgan was borderline out-of-control. Sure, both Morgan and Brit have way better incomes than I do, but wasn’t buying a thirteen-hundred-dollar suit from Holt Renfrew just because you like the colour of the lapels on the jacket a bit much? Tonight, Morgan had on the exact outfit I saw in this month’s InStyle, the one they called the “academic look”—even the fake glasses and the silver earrings she had to order online. Last month, we had to scour the city for every piece of the weekend-on-a-boat look.

″I know, I know—they’re Manolo Blahniks! Can you imagine?” Brit was still shrieking. “I know I paid too much, but I had to. They’re perfect. I love them. The straps are cream leather, but the heel—the heel! —is the best part. They’re blue! A beautiful periwinkle blue, and I think I’ll match the ribbon of my garter to them. How perfect is that? I’ve never felt so much love toward one thing—no, not even Tom, but don’t tell him that!” she laughed.

You’d never know it from listening to her talk, but Brit’s a CFO for a midsize accounting firm downtown. She loves her career and has a huge amount of responsibility offset by an even bigger salary, but can easily sound like a ’tween gushing about High School Musical.

″Perfect,” I told her between sips of my martini. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d get a chance to even mention the baby thing tonight. Brit seemed to be on a roll.

″They are simply beautiful!” Morgan assured me. “Super expensive, but so worth it. I really hope I can find a pair to go with my dress when it’s my turn.”

To think that only yesterday I was listening to my sister rant about the expense of children’s shoes. It was almost like I’d jumped into an alternate reality with these two.

″Of course, you will,” Brit promised. “I’ll help you look.” She smiled reassuringly at Morgan. “And I’m sure it will be any day now that Anil pops the question.”

Morgan has been with Anil for six years now. They share a house together, and Morgan has been impatiently waiting for Anil to ask her to marry him so that she can acquire the status of “being engaged” and all thebenefits and privileges that go with it. Having watched Brit stress herself out needlessly for the past eighteen months trying to plan the perfect wedding, I saw no benefits or privileges of “being engaged.”

″How is Anil?” I asked politely. I don’t think Anil is amazing. He’s okay but wouldn’t be my first choice for a husband. Morgan loves him for some reason, so therefore I tolerate him for her sake and keep my true feelings to myself like the good friend I am.

″He’s been working so much lately,” she complained. “He’s never home.”

″He’s working to pay for the huge rock he’s going to get for you—just wait,” Brit told her before turning to me. “You look good tonight. Have you lost weight?”

″Not that I know of,” I said with surprise. I tucked a stray curl behind my ear. Brit may have morphed into one of the most self-absorbed people I know, but when she decides to pay attention to you, it’s like the sunrise breaking over the mountains. She’s got that type of personality, which is probably why I put up with her selfishness. When Brit is nice, she’s very, very nice. Plus there’s the whole being-friends-for-twenty-years thing.

Brit gave me an approving nod. “I think you must have. You can help me. I’ve got to lose three and a half pounds before the wedding, or my dress will not zip up.” And then she was off again.

″Yes, the wedding I went to on the weekend was fine,” I said into a pause a little later when it didn’t appear either Brit or Morgan were about to ask me anything about my weekend. I knew I’d be able to grab their attention with the word wedding.

″Oh, that’s right, Ethan and Darcy got married. Was it nice?” Morgan asked. Brit sniffed not so delicately, and then when I didn’t comment on her sniff, she sniffed again. See, Brit is good friends with Ethan’s ex-girlfriend Denise, which is how I met him. We hit it off right away—Ethan and me, not Denise, whom I really couldn’t stand, although I never told Brit that—and when Denise walked out on him, I didn’t shun him like Brit, but kept in touch. Then he met Darcy. Darcy and I clicked right away—obviously, since I was one of her bridesmaids. I don’t think Brit likes it when I have a friendship that doesn’t include her. She can be a bit possessive. It’s sort of like having a small dog that growls when anyone walks by.

″The wedding itself was lovely, but Mike and I broke up,” I said offhandedly.

″What?” Brit shrieked loudly. “Oh, Casey, not again! Breaking up is so drastic, don’t you think? Are you sure that was the right thing to do? Mike isn’t perfect—no man but Tom is, really—but let’s face it, Casey, he is your best chance of getting a ring on your finger before you’re thirty-six.”

I believe I’ve mentioned Brit’s obsession with getting married. Well, it also includes Morgan, me, and the rest of the single world.

″Mike is the very last person I want to marry,” I told them empathically. “I’d rather take on Charlie Sheen with his porn and prostitute predilection than marry a man even remotely like Mike.”

″You can be honest with us,” Brit said. “You must be miserable.”

″Did you break up before or after you slept with him?” Morgan asked sadly. “I don’t know what would be worse.”

″It was before. He found someone at the church.” Even though Morgan knew of my plans for Mike and I told her about the little scene I interrupted in the coatroom, for some reason I didn’t disclose what happened later with J.B. Morgan, like my sister, thinks J.B. is terrific and hot and would want too many details.

″What an ass!” Brit declared. “Did you at least get in a good swift kick when you caught him?”

″Tempted to, but no. I decided he wasn’t worth the effort. Plus I was wearing heels, and you know how shaky my balance is when I have them on.”

″Good for you,” Morgan said loyally. “If that’s what he’s like, then you’re better off without him. There’s plenty more fish in the sea.”

″Actually, I think my fishing days might be coming to an end,” I told them. “The way I look at it, it’s a good thing this happened, because it’s finally made me wake up and realize there’s no reason I need to be waiting around for a man. I’m just going to have a baby by myself.”

″A baby what?” Morgan asked in an odd voice, sounding as unacademic as she possibly could despite the outfit.

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