“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“I totally overreacted, didn’t I?”
“Of course you did,” Quinn says without a second thought. And this is why I love her. I know she’ll always tell me the truth.
Quinn has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. She’s seen me at my worst, my best, and everything in between. “But you’re entitled to b
e a little crazy right now. You are pregnant, and if I remember correctly from Sex Ed, those little shits do horrible things to the body.”
“Quinn.” I laugh, nearly choking on a bite of my banana. “Do you even remember Sex Ed? Wasn’t that like ten … no”—I scrunch my nose, trying to calculate just how long it’s been since we were in high school—“shit,” I hiss.
“What? What is it?” she says, sounding worried.
“We’re getting old.”
“No,” Quinn states, matter of fact. “We are not going to have this conversation.”
“What conversation?” I shrug even though she can’t see me, and then adjust the phone between my cheek and my ear.
“The one where you tell me that I’m thirty and it’s time I settle down and have babies. Well, listen up, missy. Thirty is not old. And when your tits are hanging down to your knees, mine will be perfectly round and perky.”
“Yes, but who will rub your feet at night when you’re tired?”
“I don’t need anyone to rub my feet,” she scoffs.
“What happens when you get old and can’t take care of yourself? You won’t have a husband or kids to take care of you. What will you do then?”
“You and Max.”
“Me and Max what?” I ask.
“I have you, Max, Tyson, and now the baby. You guys can take care of me.”
“Oh, Quinny, we need to find you a man.” I love that she was able to take my mind off of things for a hot second, but her mention of my man brings my problems back into focus.
“Goodbye, Harley.”
“Don’t hang up,” I beg. I’ve done nothing but stew over my argument with Tyson, and right now I’m desperate for her advice. “I need you to tell me what to do about Ty.”
“Babe.” Quinn sighs. “I hate to tell you this, but you need to apologize. And then you need to give him the chance to explain everyth—”
“But I—”
“Without interrupting,” she says with a hint of amusement in her voice. “You’re going to sit there like a good little girl and let your sexy-as-hell doctor fiancé tell you where he went with his ex-fiancé, how long they were there and every single thing they talked about. Afterward, you’re going to apologize again for your crazy hormonal self and then you’re going to bang the shit out of that man.”
I smile. “That sounds like a good plan.”
“That’s because it is,” she says confidently. “And you know he would never cheat on you, right? Harley, that man thinks you hang the moon.”
“No, he doesn’t,” I scoff.
“If you don’t believe that, then you need to open your eyes and see him and your relationship for what it is. Harley”—Quinn sighs again—“he is head over heels in love with you. He’s proven that, not only to you and Max, but also to your family and friends. I know that the texts looked bad, but give the man the benefit of the doubt. Trust. Him.”
“I do trust him.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Quinn or myself, but when I say the words out loud, the uncertainty in my voice rings clear and a tight band constricts around my heart.
“Do you?” Quinn asks.