Page 15 of This Means War

She peers at me, trying to tell if I’m lying. “I promise I’ll help you look–” she starts.

“Jamie,” I put my hand up to stop her, “enough worrying about me. We should be celebrating you!”

Jamie gives me a tentative smile. “Okay then!” She jumps up and pulls open the cabinet doors. “I got us some red wine to celebrate. Thought it would pair well with the lasagna.” She takes out our corkscrew and unscrews the cork. This is it. The point at which I should tell her my news. After all, she’s just told me she’s moving out, so she can’t be too mad at her pathetic pregnant friend. Right?

“Uh, you know what,” I cover my glass, “I thinkI’ll pass on the wine. I, uh, had a lot to drink this weekend with the wedding.”

“Oh, okay.” Jamie’s face falls ever so slightly, and I feel a pang of guilt. I should tell her. But it’s so hard. “Lasagna then.” She takes out a spatula. As soon as the pile of noodles and sauce hits my plate it sends its garlicky aroma straight to my nose, which then transmits it directly to my pregnancy hormones. I’m up out of my chair like a shot.

“I’ll be right back,” I call to her as I hustle out of there. “Just need to use the bathroom.” I close the bathroom door and promptly vomit.

When I’ve fully collected myself, meaning used mouthwash, wiped off my sweaty brow, and flushed the toilet, I head back out to the kitchen. Before I reach it though, I spot Jamie standing in our front entryway, frozen in place her eyes focused on something clutched in her hand. As I move closer, dread fills me. She’s holding my pregnancy test.

Jamie hears me coming and lifts her gaze to mine. “Y-you’re pregnant?”

“Where did you get that?” I say stupidly.

“You got a delivery while you were in the bathroom.” She gestures to a bouquet of flowers and what looks like a few bottles of orange juice.Cole. “So I went in your bag to show him some ID, and I found this.” She holds up the white stick. “Is it true, Lydia? Are you pregnant?”

Tears spring to my eyes. I nod, unable to speak.

There’s a beat of silence. “How?”

“Um,” I begin uncertainly, because that’s sort ofan awkward question.

“No, I don’t mean like the actual process.” She waves this away. “I mean, how on earth did you get pregnant when you don’t even have a boyfriend! More importantly, you definitely don’t have a husband!” Her voice is a tad hysterical. “Oh my gosh, Lydia! What are you going to do? This is bad. This is so bad.”

For some reason the fact that she’s freaking out keeps me calm. “I know this is bad, Jamie,” I tell her, “but I’ve got it under control.” A lie. A total lie.

“Oh yeah?” She's understandably incredulous. “How do you have it figured out? Who even is the father?” She gestures to the flowers. “The guy who sent these?” She swoops down and picks them up, reading the card aloud. “Sorry about tonight. Please can we talk again soon? Cole. Who the heck is Cole!” She tosses the card at me.

“Jamie,” I begin, but she keeps railing. I glance down at the printed card in my hand, rereading the words.

“What is the school going to say, Lydia? Principal Henry is not going to like this, and then you’re going to be out of a job. Out of a job right when I’m supposed to be moving out! Now I can’t move out, can I? But I really want to get married!” She’s started pacing now. “I guess Luke is just going to have to move in then, and, and we’ll support you.” She nods, cottoning onto this idea. “I can paint the baby’s room. Which will also be your room, since this is only a two-bedroom, but I think I can probablyconvince Luke.”

“Jamie!” I shout and she finally shuts up, turning to face me, her chest heaving from the exertion of not breathing between sentences. “You are going to marry Luke and the two of you are going to live together somewhere else,” I say slowly as I run my fingers over Cole’s words. “I have this all figured out.”

“How? How do you have this figured out?”

I picture Cole’s face as he tells me it’s for the best. “Simple,” I shrug, “I’m getting married too.”

Chapter 12

Cole

AS IS BECOMING normal for me, I’m up tossing around in bed when Lydia’s text message comes through.

Fine. I’ll marry you.

Those four words create a firework of emotions inside me. Relief, yes, but also panic. I’m going to marry someone. And we’re going to have a baby together. All I’ve thought about so far is getting to this stage of the plan, the part where I get her to agree to marry me. Now that she has, it’s forcing me to think about what happens after that.

She’ll have to move in, of course, but will she sleep in my room? Obviously, most wives do, and yet this is a marriage of convenience, not love. What are we going to tell our families? Last night, Tom suggested we fudge the dates of our marriage a little bit, make up a story about how we fell fast and hard for each other at the bachelor/bachelorette parties, then stayed in touch after and decided to get married. He told me he could call in a favor and haveour marriage license backdated to that time frame, but I told him no, since that is, after all, a form of fraud. So, then he moved onto lying about when exactly Lydia is due. I started tuning him out at that point, but I guess it is something Lydia and I will have to figure out.I’m pretty sure neither option will go over well with her.

Another text arrives from her.

But I do have some demands.

There’s a long pause before her next message arrives, and I’m sure she’s making me wait on purpose. Always looking for ways to drive me crazy. Not that she has to try very hard. She absolutely drives me crazy.

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