It’s been a long time since I felt like that.
I’m half-surprised at myself for it, but I don’t exactly hate it.
The hardest thing, really—is how I left things with Tanner. He should be here by my side for these increasingly frequent check-ups and ultrasounds, quipping at the nurses and making all of the other soon-to-be mommies swoon in their maternity pants.
But Tanner isn’t here for me to lean on, and that’s okay. I’m Elsa fucking Blakely. I’ve been on my own before—I’ll make it through this just fine. But it’s not easy being on your own, is it?
Not that much fun either, really.
Without Dirty Little Angel, and my rollercoaster love-hate relationship with Tanner to manage, I’ve been doing okay; catching up on my reading, taking naps—whatever the fuck those are for—learning how to knit and biding my time.
It’s fucking killing me, but what can you do?
The situation is what it is. Still, I can’t help but envy Tanner for getting to stay behind and keeping his old life.
And speaking of old lives…
“Lis fucking Langley,” I swear, stopping dead in my tracks.
I have to blink several times before I believe it—but when she turns, there’s no denying it.
The messy chic French vanilla hair. The trench coat, belted just so.
The look in her eyes that says gotcha—whether it’s warranted yet or not.
The notebook. The pencil.
It’s Lis Langley alright.
“Ms. Blakely,” Lis says with a coy little smile. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Well, you’ve found me.” I surrender with a little shrug. “If you want to pester, Lis, you’ll have to walk with me. I’m late for mommy yoga.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing with your days since you left New York? Mommy yoga?”
I shrug as I power walk in my designer pumps. “Pilates, too. Tai chi. Yoga. You know, the basics.”
“That’s funny. I never thought of Elsa Blakely as a basics kind of woman.”
“Ah, well. Pregnancy changes you, Lis. You’ll find that out someday.”
Lis scoffs like I just told her she’s about to become president of the moon and somehow—despite her diminutive stature—manages to get ahead of me, blocking my path.
“You haven’t changed a bit, I see.” I eye her up and down and lean back on my heels. “Okay then. Out with it. Ask me what you need to.”
“It doesn’t add up, Elsa. My readers might be dumb enough to buy this shit between you and Tanner, but I’m not.”
“Is this all off the record, Lis? Because I don’t think your readers would appreciate being called dumb.”
Lis shakes her head. “This isn’t for a story, Elsa. I’m serious. Some shit’s going on behind the scenes that
no one has clued me in on and I don’t like it. I thought you and I respected each other enough to cut the crap and wade through the web of lies.”
I look down at her for a moment—there’s spirit in those pretty eyes of hers—too much spirit, some might say. The world hasn’t broken Lis Langley yet and it shows. She cares so much and fears so little.
An unbroken New York City reporter. Not something you see every day, at any rate.
“Maybe,” I say, brushing past her. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe you’re just too close to your own story, Lis.”