Getting Lucky. Kayla Perrin

it’s clear that Lishelle has sensed there is some secret between me and Claudia, because she looks at Claudia again.

      “Oh, look,” Claudia says, throwing a glance beyond Lishelle. “Sierra is coming with your drink.”

      Sierra sets the orange juice in front of me. I immediately take a liberal sip, avoiding Lishelle’s eyes.

      “Are you having the buffet?” Sierra asks. She asks more out of formality, because we always have the buffet. But perhaps we’re taking too long to get up and fill our plates today, so she’s wondering if we’re going to order off the menu for a change.

      “The buffet,” Lishelle tells Sierra.

      “Flag me down if you need coffee or anything,” Sierra tells us before heading off to another table.

      “And speaking of the buffet,” Claudia begins, “I’m famished. Let’s get some food.”

      “Not so fast.” Lishelle stays seated, blocking Claudia’s path of escape from the booth. “What’s going on?”

      I stare at Claudia, and she looks uncomfortably back at me.

      “Is someone going to spill the beans?” Lishelle goes on.

      This is my fault, and I could play as if there’s nothing going on, but Lishelle is too damn intuitive for that. I also know her well enough to realize that she would have said something about the engagement if she’d heard about it, so clearly she’s in the dark. Maybe her friends in the newsroom protected her from the information.

      Where Lishelle is concerned, there is no point in sugar-coating anything. There is no way to hint around the subject of Rugged. I just have to say it.

      “What do you think about Rugged’s engagement to that model?” I ask, knowing I’m dropping a bomb.

      Lishelle’s eyes widen slightly and her jaw slackens, making it crystal clear that she hadn’t heard.

      Claudia frowns at me from across the table, but it’s too late now. Could I have been less tactful?

      Lishelle chuckles, but the sound is distinctly uncomfortable. “Wh-what did you say?”

      “I—I thought you’d heard already,” I stammer. “I’m sorry. I just—it’s been all over the news, so I thought for sure you knew.”

      Now Claudia makes a face, the kind that screams, Shut up!

      So I do.

      A few seconds pass. Lishelle needs a moment to digest this information. Claudia and I are both quiet, waiting for what she’ll say. We’re both here for her if she needs to rant about this, or even cry.

      After a long moment, Lishelle’s shocked look morphs into a pleasant one. “So, he’s marrying Randi.”

      “I’m sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have blurted it out like that.”

      “Why are you apologizing?” Lishelle asks, and chortles as if to emphasize the point that the news hasn’t fazed her one bit. “We’re not dating, remember? We broke up months ago.”

      “Yes, but—” I stop abruptly when Claudia kicks me under the table.

      “But what?” Lishelle asks. “I dumped him, remember?”

      Yes, I know, I think. I could go on to recite Lishelle’s spiel as to exactly why she and Rugged weren’t good for each other, including the major points that he’s a rap artist and he’s younger than her.

      “Exactly,” Claudia says, her voice sounding overly sweet. She’s acting out a role—one she feels Lishelle wants her to play. I know this because Claudia and I have had more than one discussion about the fact that we both believe Lishelle liked Rugged more than she wanted to let on.

      But if she wants to play happy-go-lucky, I’ll go along with it.

      “Tell her what you told me about the baby,” Claudia goes on, clearly desperate to divert the conversation from Rugged.

      “What about the baby?” Lishelle asks.

      “I felt her. For the first time. Friday night.” I can’t help beaming.

      “Ohhh!” Lishelle exclaims. “The baby’s kicking already?”

      “It was more of a fluttering than a kick. Like a butterfly was trapped inside my stomach and flapping her wings around.”

      “Or an angel,” Lishelle says, and I see her eyes misting. “An angel fluttering her wings.” Suddenly, she gives me a questioning look. “Wait a minute—you said her. Is there something else you haven’t told us?”

      “You said you weren’t going to find out the sex of the baby,” Claudia chimes in, a frown forming on her lips.

      “And I didn’t,” I quickly point out. “I know you both think it’s archaic, but Dom and I want to save that surprise for when the baby is born.”

      “How are we supposed to spoil that little darling rotten if we don’t know what you’re having?” Lishelle protests.

      “You’ll buy neutral colors like people did way back in the Stone Ages.”

      “I still think you should find out,” Claudia says. “Anytime you learn what you’re having it will be a surprise.”

      “Dom and I think of it kind of like Christmas. You know you’re getting gifts, but if you open them early—or peek—it takes away from the special surprise of opening your presents on Christmas morning.”

      Claudia shrugs, but the expression on her face says she doesn’t buy my argument. I get that she’s dying to know. Lishelle too. But I’m glad that Dom and I are on the same page where the matter is concerned, because I’m not about to ruin the biggest surprise of my life.

      “It is kind of funny,” I say. “Dom is certain we’re having a boy. I’m positive this baby inside me is a girl.”

      “How’re you feeling?” Lishelle asks. “Still have that back pain?”

      “Thank you for the referral to that chiropractor. I’m feeling much better. And the nausea has finally passed. Hopefully from here on in, it’ll be smooth sailing.”

      I smile, and so does Claudia. But Lishelle’s face crumbles.

      “What?” I ask.

      “Rugged … he’s really getting married?” she asks, and it sounds to me as if her breathing is shallow.

      “Apparently he proposed a couple of nights ago,” Claudia explains. “He was out at some club with Randi … it was a big to-do. And, I’ll shut up now.”

      “Look,” I begin gently, “if you’re not okay—”

      “I guess … I guess I just thought he’d call. Send an email or something. Before it made the news.”

      “I’m sorry,” I say. Because pointing out that Lishelle has refused to take Rugged’s calls over the last two months is not going to be helpful.

      Suddenly, Lishelle pastes a smile on her face and rises—as though nothing in the world is bothering her.

      “I’m famished,” she announces. “Let’s get something to eat.”

      Chapter two

       Lishelle

      FUCK. DAMMIT! SHIT. FUUUUUCK!

      I have pulled my car into the parking lot of a strip mall where I can have some privacy to vent. I pound the steering wheel of my fiery-red Mercedes SLS AMG—the dream car I bought after Glenn’s betrayal to soothe my bruised ego. The sleek sports car is giving me no comfort now, however. I’m not sure anything can.

      I did my best during brunch not to let my emotions