Page 8 of This Means War

I shake my head, tears inexplicably filling my eyes.

Cole sucks in a breath, letting out a soft curse and taking a step towards me. “Lydia, listen. About what happened. I don’t know if I ever said how–”

The door bursts open, interrupting his speech.

“Cole?” A woman I don’t know eyes him in confusion, then steps back and looks at the picture on the door, checking she’s in the right bathroom.

“Ashley.” Cole automatically steps back from me, his posture stiffening, and I realize with a jolt who this is. Ashley Allen. The girl Cole kissed instead of me all those years ago. I hadn’t realized Josh was still friends with her. All my teenage insecurities sweep over me as I take in her perfectly curled hair and the way her dress displays cleavage a push-up bra couldn’t even give me.

“Why’re you in the women’s bathroom?” she asks.

“I was just checking on Josh’s little sister.” I cringe at his use of the wordlittle. With just one word he’s labeled me as a non-romantic threat, as if my sweaty brow and deathlike pallor hadn’t already done that. “She wasn’t feeling well.”

“Oh.” Ashley’s eyes flick to me without interest. “Right, well, I’m glad I ran into you even if it was in the women’s bathroom.” She lets out a perfectlydainty laugh. “I wanted to talk to you.” She steps the rest of the way into the bathroom, reaching across the space between her and Cole to straighten his tie. The familiarity of the gesture lets me know there’s more to their romantic history than a kiss shared over a game of spin the bottle. The bathroom is suddenly too crowded, so I move towards the door.

“Thanks for checking on me, Cole. Bye.”

“Lydia,” he calls my name, “wait.”

I turn in spite of myself.

“I’ll find you later,” he tells me, but I just shrug.

“Find me or don’t,” I reply, sticking my chin up defiantly. “I’m fine either way.”

I hurry out, my heart hammering in my chest. I’m not fast enough to miss Ashley’s next words, though. “I miss you, Cole. I want to be us again.”

My hands go to my stomach, and I wonder to myself what I’ll do if I am pregnant. I’ll have to tell him, right? Yes, of course I’ll tell him; it would be wrong not to. The image of Ashley’s hands lingering on his chest after she’d straightened his tie bursts into my brain making me wonder, will he even want to know?

Chapter 8

Cole

LYDIA DOESN’T SPARE me a glance during the wedding pictures. She’s reapplied her makeup since I saw her in the bathroom, and if it weren’t for the way she touches her stomach every now and again you could never tell she’d been throwing up in the bathroom an hour ago. I really butchered my apology in there, and I wonder if she’ll give me a chance to try again. I was just so thrown by Ashley’s sudden appearance. I’d known she’d be at the wedding since she and Delia had become friends over the course of my relationship with Ashley, but having her barge in right as I was about to recite the most heartfelt apology of my life definitely messed up my mojo. I’m shocked she wants to get back together after the way she ended things, but I can’t think about that now. I have something akin to a primal instinct to speak to Lydia.

The photographer dismisses the wedding party so she can move onto shots of just the happy couple, and everyone starts to head inside where thecaterers have started setting up appetizers. I zero in on Lydia, busy typing something on her phone. Seizing the moment, I make my way over to her.

“Hey, can we talk?”

She jumps a mile high at my voice, dropping her phone into the grass in the process. I swoop down to get it, and she practically shrieks at me to just leave it and she’ll get it. But it’s too late. My fingers have already closed around the phone, and I’ve seen what’s on the screen. She has it open to a screen with large blue letters that read, “Due Date Calculator.” Due date? A bunch of pieces start falling into place like Plinko chips hitting their mark. The vomiting. The touching of her stomach. The due date calculator. She and I having sex a month ago. Me being the only guy she’s ever slept with.The due date calculator.

“You’re pregnant?” My shock makes the words come out in a whisper, but she still whips her head around, fearful someone’s heard.

“Shh,” she snaps. “Let's go somewhere else and talk about this.”

Silently, because I seem to have lost the ability to speak, I follow her all the way to the parking lot and into the backseat of the limo we took to get here from the church.

“Listen,” she says as soon as the door is shut, “I don’t know for sure, okay? I just…” She swallows. “I just think I am.”

“What do you mean you think you are?” Apparently, I’ve found my voice. “Didn’t you take atest?”

She flushes. “Excuse me if I’ve been a little preoccupied with other things today and haven’t gotten around to it.”

I stare incredulously at her, then I turn and rap on the glass, hoping the limo driver is still up there. A second later he lowers the divider.

“Hey, can you drive us to the nearest drugstore?” I ask him. “There’s a big tip in it for you.”

The limo driver just nods, then raises the divider once more.

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