Page 44 of Top Scorer
Before we reach the end of the aisle, another shopper crashes her cart into mine. Although annoyed, I mumble “sorry” while trying to walk past.
“Oh my god, Tristan? Tristan Thorne?”
I freeze in front of a familiar-looking brunette.
“It’s Katie Price,” she says, patting her hair and smiling coyly. Katie isn’t the first high school classmate I’ve bumped into since moving back to the area. Lots of people, Ligaya for instance, have chosen to settle in Centerstone. It’s been ages, and yet Katie is acting like we’ve been buddies all this time, sliding up beside me. The glitter of her nails catches the light as she tries to give me a hug. I lean down for a fraction of a second so as not to be completely rude, then step back.
“Wow, you haven’t changed at all,” she says, touching my arm without permission. “Still tall, still handsome. Still trouble?”
We went to junior prom together, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t give her the right to flirt so openly. We’re in a grocery aisle, for fuck’s sake. And there are children!
Cringing, I attempt to leave politely, but she doesn’t wait for a response. “I’ve been watching the Mavericks this season. We should totally catch up.”
“You remember Ligaya,” I say, pointing to my baby mama at the end of the aisle.
Ligaya lifts a hand.
“Hi, Katie. How are you?” She walks closer. I take the opportunity to wrap my arm around Ligaya’s waist.
“Oh, hey, Ligaya.” Katie’s eyes flick to where we’re connected. “I didn’t realize you guys were together.”
“We’re not,” Ligaya says evenly.
Katie raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“We’re having a baby,” I blurt out of nowhere.
Maybe I said it to wipe away the dismissive look Katie’s giving Ligaya.
Maybe I said it because I’m annoyed at how quickly Ligaya saidwe’re not.
Maybe I made a public declaration because it feels real when I say it out loud.
Maybe I just needed to see how Ligaya would react.
Katie’s brow raises. “That was fast.”
“See you around,” I say, already guiding Ligaya away, my hand resting lightly on the small of her back. By the time we get to the next aisle, Ligaya still hasn’t commented on my unsolicited declaration that we’re having a baby together.
“Hey, that just came out. Was that weird for you?” I finally find the balls to ask.
“Telling everyone I’m pregnant with your baby an hour after I told you about it? A little. Though Iampregnant with your baby, so it’salreadyweird,” she says with a deflated sigh.
Her cheeks are flushed, her bun is sliding sideways.
“You look tired,” I blurt.
She gives me a narrowed glare. “Gee, thanks. That’s what every pregnant woman wants to hear.”
“I mean, you’re doing a lot. Your body is doing a lot. Are you getting enough rest?”
I’m acutely aware of how small she is next to me. Howbreakable.My chest constricts at the thought of anything happening to Ligaya and the baby she’s carrying.
Suddenly, she bumps me out of the way with a solid hip check that would topple anyone lighter than my two hundred pounds.
So much for fragile.
“Oh my god,” she says, eyes lighting up, “they brought back the sour cream and ketchup ripple chips.”
