Say It's Not Fake

I walked into the foyer, closing the door behind me, balancing the crate of beer I had brought along and the overstuffed diaper bag that kept sliding down my shoulder. “I know, I know, but Katie wasn’t really into wearing clothes today. It took a lot of bribery to get her dressed and out the door. I may have told her Meg would give her chocolate chip cookies when we got here, so I hope you have some.”

Adam grinned down at Katie. “Of course, Mimi has chocolate chip cookies! She knew you were coming.” The two of them ran toward the kitchen, and I couldn’t help laughing at the sight of my best friend jumping around like a little kid with Katie. He was going to be a good dad. Hopefully, he’d learn from all the mistakes I had made with Katie and get it right the first time.

I dropped the bag onto the hallway table and followed the pair into the kitchen. I could hear music playing, but it was a far cry from the thumping bass and crazy noise of the parties Decate held in the past. As I walked into the living room, I was greeted by all the usuals. Adam’s sister Lena and Jeremy were on the couch, their daughter Daisy between them chewing her fingers.

Skylar Murphy, the other member of the fearsome foursome, was listening to something Robert Jenkins was saying and for once didn’t look bored out of her mind. Was she actually smiling? Skylar wasn’t the smiling kind and Robert Jenkins—Adam and Jeremy’s third partner—wasn’t exactly that interesting. A nice guy definitely, but interesting, not so much. Whatever he was talking about had her rapt as she didn’t even look my way when I came into the room.

“Mimi!” Katie yelled as Meg walked in carrying a tray of cheese and crackers.

“There’s my favorite girl,” Meg cooed, putting the plate down and immediately going down on her haunches, though I wasn’t sure how she was able to, given the size of her very pregnant belly.

“I promised her cookies, Meg. It was either that or a full-blown meltdown.” I grimaced watching my other best friend fuss over my daughter.

“Well, it’s a good thing I bought some today. Come on, Katie Bug.” She took her hand and walked her into the kitchen. I could hear Katie’s nonsensical words sing-songing the whole way. Katie loved Meg—her Mimi—and had glommed onto her the way she had my mother, in that heartbreaking way that showed that even at her young age, she missed having a mother.

It was then that I noticed the other person in the room. Whitney had come in with Meg and was now sitting in the chair opposite Lena and Jeremy, her long red hair the same color as Meg’s, hanging down low on her back. It had grown considerably. I remembered she used always to cut it shoulder length, stating she hated how heavy it felt on her head when it got long. I also remembered telling her how much I loved feeling it between my fingers the one and only time I touched her like that.

I gave myself an internal shake. Not going there. Nope. Not doing it.

So what if I noticed she was wearing a skirt that fell just above her knees, her tanned legs going for miles, her tank top molded to every curve. For a makeup artist, she very rarely wore any makeup herself. Which was just as well; she didn't need any.

Stop it. I wasn’t going to spend the evening drooling over Whitney Galloway. I wasted too much of my life doing that.

I turned to Adam. “I’m going to put this in the kitchen and check to make sure Katie hasn’t coerced your wife into feeding her all the cookies.” I laughed, hefting the crate of beer in my arms for a better grip.

“Probably a good idea. Meg has no willpower when it comes to your kid. I hope she gets some; otherwise, our son will be spoiled rotten.”

“Hey Web, I’ll come with you. I need to freshen up my drink,” Skylar said, finally noticing my arrival.

I gave her a one-armed hug, which was about all she’d tolerate. “Hey there, Murphy. I wasn’t sure you saw me. Rob seemed to really have your attention.” I bumped her with my shoulder, and she scowled at me, as I expected her to.

“Don’t be an idiot, Webber. It doesn't suit you,” she snarked. I chuckled. To most people, Skylar Murphy seemed like a strange addition to our friendship group. Adam and I played football together, so we made sense. Meg and Adam had known each other since in utero, so it was only natural for us to spend time together. But Skylar was this moody goth chick that might stab you with her pencil if you looked at her funny. There was something untouchable about Skylar. She built her walls tall and wide. If you were one of the few she allowed to see what lay behind those barriers, you got to know what a beautiful person she was—inside and out.