Page 62 of Unexpecting

″No, I wouldn’t be that mean,” Brit said with a roll of her eyes. “Casey, you’ll be with Tom’s brother Richard; then Morgan with his other brother, Henry; then my sister and Anil. Lacey’s not too keen about going last,” she told Morgan meaningfully.

″At least you have one of your sisters in the wedding party,” I muttered. “What about Sierra?” referring to Brit’s younger sister.

″More than three attendants on each side make the church look cluttered,” Brit pronounced. “I’m not having a whole gang up there while I’m saying my vows. And the two of you want to be in my wedding party, don’t you? Besides, Sierra’s too young and irresponsible for such an important duty. Although she isn’t pregnant.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at me, but I didn’t rise. I was waiting for my moment. The attitude I’d been getting had been going on long enough. Morgan seemed fine with the idea of me producing offspring, althoughI got the picture it was making her a little skittish, but plain and simple, Brit was being a bitch about the whole thing. I’d come to the conclusion that Brit was either with me, or not. I thought it might be difficult to cut her out of my life, since she’s been there for more than half of it, but if she were not with me, then changes would definitely need to be made.

I waited until the three of us were sitting at the restaurant around the corner from the shop. Brit was on a high because the dresses looked fantastic on both Morgan and me. It was too early for me to have put on any weight. In fact, I must have lost a couple of pounds in the past week since the dress was a little loose around the waist.

″So I’ve been thinking,” I began as soon as I could get a word in edgewise. “About this baby.”

″You’ve come to your senses?” Brit asked with a patronizing smile. She was playing with her glass of wine, and to make it worse, she’d ordered a glass of the New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc that I always get if it’s on the menu. Either she’d managed to pick up some wine knowledge from me over the years, or she was totally rubbing it in my face that I couldn’t drink. Tonight I’d tend to think it was the latter.

″That’s exactly what I mean. I am so happy about this baby.” I held my hands protectively over my belly. “It’s what I’ve always wanted, and I’m very excited. Ecstatic. Over the moon. And so are Cooper and Emma and Libby. And Morgan. The only person who hasn’t expressed any excitement or sincere good wishes or happiness for me is you, Brit—who claim to be my BFF.”

″Well, J.B. doesn’t seem to be too happy about it either,” Brit said in a snotty voice.

″Brit,” Morgan chided.

″I think I can handle things with J.B., thanks,” I told her icily.

You know he’ll come around, Casey,” Morgan told me reassuringly. “He’s just scared. He feels—he’s like this big stud, right? And he feels that he’s about to be taken off the market, against his will. It’s like he’s some stallion, and it’s his time to become a gelding.”

″What’s a gelding?” Brit asked.

″It’s a horse. A stallion is a boy horse—”

″I know that!”

″—and a gelding is what he becomes after they take away some of his boy-horse parts.”

″How do they…? Oh.”

″So he thinks I’m going to cut off his balls, so to speak?” I asked.

″Not you, but the baby will. Not your fault, of course. I think he’ll come around,” Morgan assured me. “Just give him a little time.”

″How do you know about this gelding thing?” Brit suddenly asked.

″You forget I grew up in the country,” Morgan told her imperiously. “You have no idea the stuff I know that you don’t want to know about.”

Brit waved her off. “The reason behind it doesn’t matter. He’s still being an ass. I think you’re a fool not to just blow him off. All this he’s-scared-he’ll-come-around crap—stop being a martyr, Casey, and grow a pair. Tell him to step up. It takes two to tango, and you better tell him he’d better grow up and put a big fat ring on your finger pretty darn quick. It’s the only way you’ll ever get one now, if you insist on going through with this nonsense.”

″Nonsense? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” I marveled. “What kind of friend makes comments like that? It’s just—really, it’s shitty of you, Brit, and it needs to stop. Be happy for me, or else.” After such a good start, I hit a hurdle at the end. But from the expression of surprise on her face, I think I got my point across. I took a big drink of water. Confrontations make your throat dry.

″Of course, I’m happy for you,” Brit began.

I snorted. “Of course you’re not. You’ve been a horrible friend since I told you this is what I want. I’ve listened to you for years about how you want the perfect wedding and plan its every last detail, so the least you can do is pretend to be happy for me. I don’t even get the dignity of you faking it.”

″I don’t fake,” she announced haughtily. “And I am perfectly happy for you. You and your surprise offspring have been taking up so much of my mental energy these days, I barely have enough time for wedding planning.”

″You bitch,” I say with amazement. “This is what I can expect from you when I tell you the biggest news of my life? Surprise offspring? It’s a baby! My baby! And news flash for you—it’s a wedding, not some last-minute G-8 summit in Israel. With your attitude, I can’t believe I still call you my best friend!” My voice increased in volume with every word, so I was practically yelling at the end. But that was still not enough impact for me. Without a second thought, I picked up my water glass and hurled the remaining water right in Brit’s face.

″Casey!” she shrieked, sending water droplets flying. There wasn’t more than a mouthful left in the glass, and I directed most of it toward her mouth. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

″You,” I told her calmly. “You make me sick. Morgan’s my only best friend now.” Then I ruined it by beginning to cry. Like I said, I don’t do confrontations well.

″I can’t believe you did that!” Brit cried. She grabbed all the napkins from the table and blotted her face. I knew she didn’t wipe it in one fell swoop because that would undoubtedly ruin her makeup.

---