Page 6 of The Pocket Pair

I’m not usually the enforcer—I’m the least likely candidate compared to my two fierce friends—but I step in front of Lindy, giving her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, chica.”

Lindy frowns. “We should just go. I don’t want to be late to the meeting.”

We have about an hour until the monthly meeting of the Ladies Literary and Libation Society. Considering the annual Sheet Cake Festival is about a month away, there is a lot to discuss. Usually, I enjoy the meetings, which involve town business, alcohol, and very little of the literary nature.

But I’ve got an inescapable feeling of dread coiling in my belly about tonight’s meeting. I know what my aunt Mari is going to announce, and it’s not something my friends—or anyone else for that matter—will embrace. Especially since I’ve been keeping them in the dark. I planned to tell them Mari’s big news—and mine—tonight, but when Lindy mentioned her late period, our plans were derailed, and now we’re here.

I did try. My voice wobbled only a little when I said I needed to tell them something. But they jumped in, congratulating me, thinking that I meant Tank buying my paintings. Which is a big deal. Just … not as big as the other thing I was planning to tell them.

My news seems like small potatoes compared to Lindy potentially being pregnant. Somehow, I don’t think my two best friends will see it that way. Now I’m the one trying to stuff down a sudden urge to flee.

“We could always skip tonight,” I suggest.

“If we skip, they’ll stick us with some terrible job for the festival, like making sure the portable toilets stay stocked with toilet paper.” Winnie holds out a box to Lindy. “Take this one.”

Lindy shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “No, thank you.”

Rolling my eyes, I take the box from Winnie. “I’ve got it.”

“Can we just go, please?” Lindy begs.

“We’ll go after you buy a test,” Winnie says. “Or a few tests. I can’t force you to pee on a stick, but this way we won’t have to make a second trip out here.” Winnie picks up another test, frowning as she reads the back of the box.

“How did Julian take the breakup?” Lindy asks me, an obvious ploy to direct attention away from herself.

“His name is Jaxon. With an X. Not that hard to remember.”

“Right—Jackwagon,” Winnie says, pushing her black-framed glasses up her nose. “Still can’t believe you dated him so long.”

“He didn’t deserve you,” Lindy says.

“And he has a mullet,” Winnie adds. “On purpose.”

Is there such a thing as an accidental mullet? Even if so, Jaxon’s mullet is absolutely intentional. And gross. Which I tried to overlook because I’m not that shallow, but it turns out I am exactly that shallow. I know they’re coming back in style, but they shouldn’t.

How did I even get to be in the position where I’m dating a guy with a mullet?

Oh, right. Because the actual guy I like, whom I don’t talk about because he happens to be Winnie’s brother, is off-limits. And also not at all interested. In order to kill my longtime crush on Chevy, I’ve been desperately dating any guy—including ones with unfortunate throwback hairstyles—for longer than I care to admit. Even the thing I still haven’t told Winnie and Lindy was partially motivated by my feelings for Chevy. Or, more to the point, my desire to get rid of those feelings.

“He was surprisingly upset about the breakup,” I admit. “I mean, he was the one who said he didn’t want to be exclusive. He’ll get over it.”

Movement catches my eye, and I realize that Lindy used talk of Jaxon to distract me. Once again, she’s edging away toward the end of the aisle. I hook an arm around her waist, and pull her back toward Winnie. Sighing heavily, Lindy leans her head on my shoulder. I swear, I feel the tiniest tremor, like she’s barely holding in a serious cry. Winnie is still task-focused, reading every label of every pregnancy test on the shelf, and doesn’t notice.

“Hey—it’s fine,” I whisper, giving Lindy a squeeze. “Pregnant, not pregnant—it will be okay. You and Pat want to have kids, right?”

Lindy has mentioned wanting a big family before, or I wouldn’t have assumed. Despite what society seems to think, not every woman wants to get pregnant. Even if they’re happily married and have the means and support. Frankly, the idea of having a baby terrifies me, though Jo, Lindy’s daughter, is pretty amazing.

I can barely be trusted to remember my own schedule. Who would trust me with a whole human? Wasn’t I just a kid myself? Weren’t we all?

Though Lindy, Winnie, and I weren't friends back when we were in diapers, it was pretty soon after that we became inseparable.

The very first picture of the three of us was taken in first grade, and we each have a framed copy. Winnie has two blond pigtails instead of the single high ponytail she sports most days. She’s squinting at the camera because no one realized she needed glasses yet. Lindy has her eyes crossed and her tongue stuck out, her dark hair in a bowl cut we still make fun of to this day. And me? I’m wearing overalls with one strap undone and a closed-mouth smile because I was self-conscious about missing a tooth. My thick, brown hair is lighter than it is now, but it’s just as unruly and long, hanging almost down to my waist.

And now … Lindy might be pregnant. She was the first to get married, just last fall, and now could be the first one going through this particular milestone. It’s hard to believe.

“I just didn’t plan for it to happen so soon,” Lindy says. “Pat and I have only been married a few months and then there’s Jo …” She trails off as her voice gets wobbly.

When Lindy came home the last semester of college, her troubled sister, Rachel, had abandoned her infant daughter. Lindy’s mom had taken Jo in but was showing the first signs of dementia and couldn’t care for a baby, much less herself. All this meant Lindy suddenly became a capital-A adult in ways few college grads have to. At least, not so quickly or in such huge ways. Jo is so much better off with Lindy and Pat, who adores her, but I can understand how a new baby might really change the dynamics. Especially since they’re practically still newlyweds.

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