“Made you smile, though.”
“You’ve always been good at that.” I grab the box and set them in front of her. “Thank you for being here for me.” I place my hand over hers and squeeze.
“I will always be here for you, Ruthie. You know I’m your ride or die.”
“Likewise.”
“Remember that time we stalked Shadow?”
I cover my face and laugh. “Yes. I’m sure he knew. Did you ever ask him?”
“Umm…no. I don’t think I want to know the answer. Some secrets should stay buried.”
“He’s your husband now. It’s okay that you were tracking him down at the local whippy stand because you knew he had a thing for their—what was it he always got?”
“A lime Glacier. It was the soft serve in the middle of the slushy,” she mumbled.
“And you still remember that?” I ask.
“Shut up,” Blue says as she pops a piece of chocolate into her mouth.
A knock sounds on the door.
“You expecting anyone else?” Blue asks.
“No, but you know Rochelle pops by at will. Little sister thinks this is her personal sanctuary.” I open the door and stare at the Asian man with long dark hair, and black rimmed glasses. His crisp white button up and black pants seem out of place for four in the afternoon on a Sunday. “Can I help you?” I ask.
“Is this the house of Ruthie Gregg?” he asks.
“Yes, it is,” I answer, half expecting him to burst into song and dance.
“I have a special delivery of Kung Pao Chicken with Fried Rice, and Rangoon.”
Did this man just sent me my favorite dish? The bas
tard is fighting dirty.
He holds up the white plastic bag. “It’s already been paid for as well as the tip.”
“Thank you.” I take the bag from him. The scent of cooked beef and spices raises up from the bag. I step back inside and close the door. My stomach turns. I drop it and dash for the bathroom. I hit my knees and empty my stomach once more. Oh, Shit.
Blue rushes in behind me and gathers my hair, keeping it away from my face.
Emotions burst like a bubble, and I alternate between sobbing and tossing my cookies. My period is due in a few days. I get the feeling I won’t be seeing it.
“Holy shit, Ruthie. I think you’re pregnant.”
I nod my head weakly and sit back on my heels, flushing the toilet.
She releases my hair and returns with a wet washcloth.
I wipe my mouth and slowly stand. “I think so. Jesus. What the hell am I going to do?”
“Tell Skull—”
“No!”
“Ruthie Ryann Gregg.”