Annie pats my hand. “Let’s move on. I can see you getting upset talking about it.”
“It makes me anxious to think about it. I’d rather just forget I applied and be pleasantly surprised if I somehow manage to get in.”
“Fair enough,” Annie says. “How’s teaching, Lo?”
As Lo answers, my gaze wanders over to Ren, tucked into his circumspect corner. His book rests flat on a small two-top table, his water and tea neatly side by side.
“Frankie.” Lo’s voice startles me.
I glance back at her. “What?”
She flicks her lip piercing with her tongue and wiggles her eyebrows, making her brow piercings do a little dance. “See something you like?”
My cheeks heat. I twist my fingers in my necklace. “I was just staring into space.”
Lo quirks an eyebrow. I’ve learned this is code for bullshit.
Annie groans, oblivious to our exchange. “God. I’m sick of being pregnant.”
“Aren’t you due soon?” I ask her. “You look like my grandma’s bread when she leaves it out too long to proof.”
Lo chokes on her water.
Annie stares at me in disbelief. “Frankie. I have another month, at least.”
There’s one of my Why-did-you-open-your-mouth-and-state-the-obvious? moments for you. I grimace. “Sorry, Annie. I didn’t mean to be insulting. You’re just a tiny person with a tall guy’s baby in you. And—”
Lo clears her throat loudly and raises her eyebrows. If a stranger did that, I’d lose it on them, but I’ve built trust with my friends and I don’t find a little social direction here and there offensive or condescending. It’s helpful, actually, and I’ve told them as much.
Annie picks up her fork, holding it poised over her salad. “I want to laugh without peeing myself. I want to drink beer again.” Staring at the plate on her belly, Annie frowns at her food. “And I want to eat you. But I don’t have room.”
“Poor Annie.” Lo gives Annie an empathic smile before biting into her tofu and bean burrito. “So, once you get into law school, Frankie, how much longer do you do this job? You going to take some time off? Because I want to plan something fun with you between this and the start of the semester.”
“No, it’s okay,” Annie says. “I’ll just be leaking breastmilk, wrecked from birthing Tim’s monster baby. But please, plan a Napa trip without me.”
Lo tsks. “I’m talking like a day at the spa and a movie in PJs. For all of us. New mama included.”
Annie perks up and grins. “Okay. Keep planning, then.”
I sip my root beer. “Depends on the playoffs. My thought is I’ll give my two weeks’ notice once we lose. I’ve saved up a little nest egg. I’d like to do some studying and otherwise take a few months off to just relax a bit until school starts.”
“Good.” Lo smiles, staring past my shoulder. “Any plans to relax with the hockey hottie?”
“Yeah, right,” I mutter around a bite of pizza. “Banging Ren would be a high point in my life, if he’s any bit as coordinated in bed as he is on the ice, but he’s holding out for someone else.”
My stomach sours saying that. I rub my belly and drink some water.
“Who is she?” Lo asks.
“Someone who’s unavailable right now but who he’s hopeful he can eventually pursue. I don’t know the details, just that he’s willing to wait for her.”
Annie tips her head, glancing from Ren to me. “You have no clue who it is? He hasn’t told you, not even hinted?”
“Well, if he has, you know I don’t pick up on hints,” I remind her. “And no, I really have no clue.”
“Huh.” Lo stares past me, straight at Ren, her brow furrowed in thought.
I peer over my shoulder and look at Ren again as he turns the page in his book, then grins. My heart squeezes weirdly and I turn around. “What?” I ask the two of them.
“Lord help me,” Annie says. “He smiles while reading.”
Lo grins. “And he drinks herbal tea.”
“He’s adorable,” they say in unison.
“Shh!” I feel my cheeks turning bright red. “Seriously, stop, both of you.”
Lorena’s eyes scour Ren. “I don’t know, Frankie. I say give your two weeks’ notice, then jump his fine ass.”
Annie sighs wistfully. Her plate of food doesn’t even teeter, resting steadily on her round stomach. “Lo’s right. Go for it. You like him. You two get along.”
“Wow, what a compelling reason to throw myself at him,” I say drily. “By that criteria I should be asking out our waiter.”
Annie groans, locks eyes with Lorena, then glances back to me. “Frankie, he’s cute. And ridiculously nice.”
I give her a look. “You’ve met him once. He said hi to you and smiled. That’s it.”
“So?” she fires back. “His greeting was delightful and memorable. And you said you two consider each other friends. I’m just saying that I think Lo’s onto something.”
“Ladies. He’s not into me. He’s the epitome of polite and friendly, that’s it. Plus, we know Frankie’s not going down the love road.”
Annie’s small hand rests over mine. “We’ve discussed that guys are a bit of a blind spot for you.”
“And you say you’re not going down the love road,” Lo says with a quirk of her pierced eyebrow, “but we say, bullshit.”
I scowl at her.
Lo takes my other hand. “The man who is worthy of your love is not going to treat you how your family did. You’re a bright woman, Frankie, but you seem to need the reminder that interabled coupledom can be mutually intimate, empowering, and reciprocal—”
“Here we go,” I mutter.
“It’s time to move past that negative attitude toward it,” she continues blithely. “Talk about it with the therapist, please? It’s time to suit up for love. Because trust me, when love comes, you’re going to want to be ready. You haven’t felt those butterflies, that flip of your stomach, the sensation that your heart’s about to jump out of your chest. When you feel that, it changes everything.”
My pizza churns in my stomach. I’ve felt most of those things just looking at Ren. I keep that unsettling tidbit to myself.
“And just because a guy isn’t jumping your bones, doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to,” Annie adds. “In the absence of him seducing you, let’s consider the fact that Ren does exemplify important prerequisites for a solid boyfriend candidate.” She lifts her fingers and starts ticking them off. “He’s gentlemanly. He’s a ginger.”
Lo cackles. “Frankie’s such a freak for redheads.” I kick her under the table.
“He likes to read,” Annie continues. “He cares about his community. After this you’re going to go take video of him reading to sick children, for goodness’ sake!”
“Your point?” I shove a bite of pizza in my mouth and chew.
Annie blinks at me, owl-like through her glasses. “My point is he’s special. He’s sitting in a café, clearly not because he’s hungry, but because he’d rather deal with being ogled by an entire restaurant so he can carpool with you, rather than avoid this bullshit and meet you there. I think he’s not just a fantastic human. I think you mean something to him.”