I gingerly open the bag, reaching inside with shaking fingers even after I see what’s in there.
Yes. One pregnancy test.
“Is this why you texted me?”
She nods.
This bitch knows how to get on my last nerve. Why didn’t the woman just ask Tate? He’d tell her that he’s seen the results of three of these damn tests already. Maybe she’s just putting me through this to be difficult. In the spirit of keeping everything low key, I paste a fake smile on my face.
“Not a problem. It’s only the fourth pregnancy test I’m taking. Trust me, I’m all trained up. It’d be my pleasure,” I grit my teeth. “Good thing I drank a large bottle of water on the way here.”
“Well, would you look at that. It’s almost like you knew!” Cindy throws up her hands with an equally fake laugh. “Go do your business. I’ll be waiting right here.”
“What? You’re not worried I’ll fake it with some pregnant lady pee I snagged from some stranger? Are you sure you don’t want to follow me inside and watch?”
“Nah, you’re not that deranged.” Cindy leans back in the booth and waves her hand in dismissal. “Go on, get your bony ass going. Chop, chop!”
I roll my eyes but navigate my way toward the restrooms. I suppose in the grand scheme of things it’s a small price to pay for answers. After a good ten minutes of stage fright, I’m able to get down to business. I wait the token three minutes, shove the stick back in the brown paper bag and wash my hands, heading back out to deliver the news.
“The goods are in there. See for yourself.” I slide the bag across the table and snatch up a fork, jabbing a big piece of pie off of her plate. “That was a lot of work. I got hungry.”
She squeezes her lips together, not saying a word. She slides the plate across the tabletop until it’s in front of me. The skeptical woman digs through the bag. It’s almost worth the hassle of taking the test to watch the woman’s facial expression go from cocky to pure confusion. Her gaze flicks from me to the pregnancy test and back again. I’ve never seen anyone’s eyes move so fast.
“So…we good now?”
I take another huge chunk of the pie, relishing the soothing taste of putting Cindy in her place. She doesn’t answer. I hold my arm out, palm facing up, with a forkful of pie held out to her. “Here, have a bite before I finish it all. And by the way, do I get an apology for the way you tried to choke the life out of me?”
Her head snaps up from looking at my hand. She blinks. All the color drains out of her face. Yes, I figure the older woman has forgotten all about our almost-catfight at the clubhouse which could have cost me the baby if the men didn’t pull the older woman off me.
“Wait.” She snatches my hand and holds on like a vulture while staring at my wrist with wide, shocked eyes. “Jesus. I didn’t know that was you. I didn’t click…”
“Are you kidding me right now? You didn’t know it was my neck you decided to clamp your hands onto?” I thought I could be polite and diplomatic with her. Clearly that’s not possible. Her grip on my arm isn’t helping.
“I said wait. There’s something else.”
“What? Something else like what?”
“Did you forget to clean the wax out of your ears this morning. I just said wait, dammit. I’m trying to remember something.”
Cindy lets go of my hand and pulls out her phone. “I need to make a quick call,” she says and scrolls through her phone screen.
“Do you need some privacy?”
“No. Hang on. It’s ringing.” She has her eye on my arm the entire time, until someone answers. “Debbie? Hey, it’s Cindy. Got a minute?”
I can only hear Cindy’s side of the conversation. But I’m curious. This call is about me, or more accurately, about my wrist.
“Great,” she continues. “Do you remember that Mongols branding incident from say, twenty-odd years back? Yes, I know it was only two of them… What were their names? Did you hang on to the photos? Good. If you find them, snap a couple of shots with your phone and send it to me, will you? Thanks, Debbie. Take care.”