Page 3 of More than Friends

I lean back in my chair. “Celebrating? What are you celebrating?”

She smiles brightly. “I got a new job.”

I frown. Now I’m even more confused. “You love your job.”

Maggie’s an artist and an art dealer. Her job takes her all around the world. She loves it. Shelivesfor it.

“I do love my job, but...”

“But what? You get to travel, do all kinds of exciting things, meet amazing people. I don’t get it. Why would you leave?”

Her shoulders slump a little. “I’ve outgrown it, Declan. I’ve been on the road constantly the last few years. I sold my old place because I was never home. I’m tired of being a nomad. I just got an apartment.”

My eyes widen. “Here? In D.C.?”

“Yeah. You’ll have to come by.” She winks at me.

I stare at the table for a minute – running all of this through my mind. “What’s the new job?”

“At the university, artist in residence. I’ll get to do my own art and teach some. I’m really excited about it. I don’t start until the Fall though, so I have some time to get settled.”

I rub between my eyes. I don’t know why but all of this is bothering me.

“Declan,” she says, softly. “I’m ready to settle down.”

I don’t respond and she picks up her fork and resumes eating.

“Aren’t you worried someone might spot us here? Together?” I ask.

She pauses, her fork midway to her mouth. “Friends are allowed to celebrate together. Even at a nice restaurant. It’s fine.”

I pick up my knife and start cutting my steak. I’m missing something here. I know it’s stupid, but this feels like a personal attack somehow. It feels like she’s breaking up with me which is outrageous because we aren’t dating – and never have. But if she’s settling down and I’m not, that can only mean one thing.

I can’t help myself. “Did you meet someone?”

Her eyes jerk up again. “No. You know I have no interest inthat.”

Yes. Of course I know that. It’s the whole reason Maggie and I work so well together.

She whispers, “You’re acting really weird.”

I am. I really am. I’m not sure why all of this is bothering me so much. I don’t say anything else, and we eat in silence.

She finally takes a deep breath and says, “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

My heart starts racing. I pick up my bourbon and take a sip, bracing myself for whatever’s coming next.

“I’m going to have a baby.”

I nearly spit my drink all over her.

“What?”

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