Page 38 of Made for Us

“I miss napping,” Franny sighs. “It used to be my all-time favorite thing to do.”

“I thought sex was your all-time favorite thing to do?” Vivienne teases.

“It’s a close tie.” She laughs. “Definitely a nap after sex.” I can’t help but laugh at her as she comes over to kiss me goodbye and touch my little bump.

“We should head out also,” Vivienne declares, looking at Xavier.

“Can you guys drop me off?” I ask, and they both nod at me.

“I’m coming too.” Gabriella gets up, and we start the process of leaving.

At this point, it takes an extra thirty minutes before you get through hugging everyone. I take a look around for Tristan when I’m saying goodbye, but I don’t see him or Penelope.

The drive takes them no less than five minutes, and I laugh as I see the trail of french fries still there. I kick off my sneakers at the door and walk over to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of water, wishing it was something stronger. Gabriella walks in and looks at me, leaning against the counter, and instead of coming to me, she walks over to the cabinet and takes out the Patrón.

I watch her like a hawk as she grabs a shot glass from the other cabinet and then goes to the island stool. She places the tequila on the island and then pulls out her stool. “What…?” I start to ask, and she holds up her hand to tell me to wait a second. She pours a shot of tequila and then takes it. She hisses and then looks at me.

“The things I do for you.” She wipes her mouth. “Now, you can talk.”

“Talk about?” I just stare at her, and she gives me a come on look. “Let’s talk about why you moved to Dallas?” She just looks at me knowing I’m deflecting off myself and onto her, “Shall we talk about the fact that you are brokenhearted but pretend everything is okay?”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

She avoids looking at me and takes another shot of tequila, “But we can talk about the fact Tristan asked you how far along you were?” She taps her finger on the counter. “And are we going to discuss that he followed you to where you went and never came back?”

“I think he knows,” I finally admit, and I have to put my hand on my knees because I think I’m going to have a full-on panic attack.

“Shocking,” she deadpans as she pours herself another shot of tequila and laughs.

“It’s not funny.” I look up at her, blowing the hair out of my face.

“I’m not laughing,” she says, leaning back in the chair her voice as calm as can be. Right now, she knows that she has to be the calm one because she knows I’m freaking the fuck out.

“He asked me how far along I was,” I tell her as if she wasn’t sitting at the table with me. As if she wasn’t the one holding my hand.

“Why didn’t you just lie?” she asks what I’ve been asking myself the whole time.

“Because I was in front of everyone.” I throw my hands in the air. “What the hell was I supposed to say, ‘oh just a couple of months’? Then knowing our family, they would all sit down and be like, ‘wait, didn’t you tell me.’” Then they were going to sit down and start doing math.”

She just shrugs. “Well, now you get to tell him the truth.”

I roll my eyes, but the pain in my chest kicks in, along with the stinging of tears, one escaping down my cheek as I use my index finger to wipe it away. “What if he doesn’t want me to have the baby?”

Her eyes go into slits. “Then we cut his balls off and call Uncle Matthew and Uncle Max.”

“This isn’t funny,” I hiss at her.

She shakes her head. “You already decided you didn’t care if he wants to be involved or not.” She reminds me of the conversation we had when I found out I was pregnant. “You sat down and we went over this. You were like, ‘It doesn’t matter if he is involved or not,

I don’t care.’”

“I don’t.” I put my hand on my stomach. “I’m willing to do this by myself.”

“Never by yourself.” She smiles at me. “I mean, it’s almost as if it’s my child since we are twins.”

“Almost.” I smile at her, the sound of my phone ringing from the front door has my whole body going cold and stiff.

“My Spidey-Senses tell me that it’s the baby daddy,” she teases, pushing off from the island. “I need a shower.” She looks over her shoulder at me. “Everything will be okay.” She takes a couple of steps up, stopping. “And if not, I’ll dust off my black clothes.”

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