When Girlfriends Step Up (14 page)

“It’ll be perfect,” I said. “There’s plenty of room for a crib. And even a rocking chair over in the corner by the window.”

“Oh my gosh, girls!” Claire said. “That’s right! We still have to get the baby’s room all set up.”

“One step at a time,” I said. “Let’s organize Mom’s part of the room first.”

“She’s right, Robin,” Sophie said. “We definitely need to get the baby’s area of the room going, at some point. And getting more clothes for it and—”

“
More
clothes?” Jackie asked. “You already bought some stuff for the little bubby?”

That reminded me. The girls hadn’t seen what Sophie and I picked up the other night during our little to-hell-with-Brandon celebration. I ushered them into my new room so they could see what we’d picked up.

“We got a little carried away, but aren’t they adorable?” I showed off the dainty cream and yellow bonnet, the tiniest (and softest) socks they’d ever seen, and the cute and totally gender neutral onesies in shades of green, yellow, and basic all-white.
 

“And look at
this
one!” I dug through the shopping bag I’d thrown onto my bed and withdrew the cutest little yellow t-shirt, which had a bright teal and pink cupcake on it. “Sophie said I just had to have this, even if it ends up being a boy.”

“Kid could be a baker. You never know.” Sophie gave a wink.

“Okay. I’m jealous,” Jackie said. “You get all this cool and freaking adorable stuff.”

“Jealous, yeah,” Claire piped in, “that you girls already did some shopping! When’s the next outing? We definitely all have to go shopping now.”

We went back and forth for a while figuring out what we should do first—shop for more baby clothes, or some of the essentials like Sophie suggested? Bottles, blankets, pacifiers, rattles and baby toys, and something called a Bopee, whatever that was (Lara insisted I needed one). Or shop for the baby furnishings? Or the “you can’t forget the safety things,” that Claire brought to our attention? “Babies get into all sorts of trouble, I’ve heard. Electrical outlets. Toilets. Slamming their fingers in doors. Trashcans. Under the kitchen sink.”

Suddenly the idea of shopping for adorable baby bonnets and shoes and all-things-baby seemed a daunting task. Wherever to begin? And what was that about trashcans and electrical outlets?

“Girls,” Lara said, trying to calm everyone down. Some of us were heading down tangents about completely safeguarding and baby-proofing an apartment, while others were saying that a baby needed so much stuff there certainly wouldn’t be enough space for everything in this apartment.

“Girls, chill a sec,” Lara said. “We’re not baby-proofing any outlets just yet or putting clips on the toilets. We need to focus on getting this baby the bare necessities and some clothes for starters. A little bit at a time, okay? No need to overwhelm poor Robin. She’s got enough to deal with.” She gave my forearm a little rub. “And we’re going to need to get her some maternity clothes soon. Before any of us know it, she won’t have a thing to wear.”

“Thanks, Lara. Way to make me feel good,” I kidded.

“But first. What we absolutely
must
do before anything else—”

“More baby clothes shopping?” Claire asked.

“Nope. First, we need to make a toast. A toast to Robin’s big move and the two of us living together again!”

“Like the college days,” I said, thinking back to the many fond memories of Lara and I sharing an apartment together.

“Yeah, like the college days,” Lara said, producing a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator.

“Except that now you’re pregnant,” Jackie said in a tone that slightly hinted at jealousy. I knew Jackie wasn’t riding cloud nine over my move in with Lara, but at some point she’d have to grow up. Lara would still be as great a friend and support system as ever to her, and would continue to bend over backward when she was in need. But Lara was also
my
good friend, and she was there when I needed her, too. And I needed her now more than ever.

“To life as roomies, with a little one on the way!” Sophie cheered, raising her glass. Everyone else followed suit, their glasses filled with champagne, mine with some sparkling water.

“Cheers!”

That first night in my new home, boxes still spread out over my bedroom, I turned on my low-lit bedside lamp, pulled the blankets up snuggly around my waist, and propped up my knees as I got comfortable in my bed. I started working on a new sketch that evening. It was of the five of us—myself, Sophie, Claire, Jackie, and Lara—all darkly shaded figures toasting glasses of bubbly, with a sixth figure on the far left of the half-moon grouping of girls: Emily, lightly shaded, representing that she was there with us in spirit.

I still hadn’t heard from that girl, and imagined that the native village children either had her caught up in a fun game, or the village elders were teaching her how to properly weave or grind something. What an adventurous life Emily led. Too bad she didn’t live in the world of modern communication half the time. I was dying to hear back from her since Lara and I had sent her the ultrasound photos.
Maybe tomorrow…

I set down my pencil and looked around the crowded room. Where would I decide to set up the baby’s crib? The rocking chair I knew I wanted to buy (because
You’re Going to Be a Mother
highly suggested a rocking chair for Mommy and Baby during nursing time) would work ideally in the corner. Perhaps the crib could be situated right next to it. Or I could move my bed around. Lara said she didn’t mind if I moved the furniture. She even suggested that if I wanted to move some of the pieces out we could put them in a storage unit.
 

“I’ll figure something out,” I said to myself. I decided against continuing work on my sketch of the girls for the night and chose to work on a room plan for the furniture I’d soon be collecting for the baby. “Let’s see I’ll put the rocker here…then maybe move my bed here…” I madly began sketching out room plan after room plan, excited about my new home and the room that I’d soon be sharing with my little baby.

Chapter Nine

I was more than fifteen weeks pregnant, and it showed. My bump had officially arrived. My cravings were developing further, adding to the list fresh cherries, melted Swiss cheese, baked beans, and salt and vinegar potato chips. The chips were a horrible guilty pleasure and nasty craving that I sometimes suspected were the cause of the bump. But as the bump grew and grew I was convinced it was the little pea pod. No great consumption of potato chips could morph my body overnight. And besides, I’d successfully taken up light jogging for a few minutes five mornings a week on the very handy treadmill that Lara had set up in her alcove.
 

Take that, potato chips!
 

I fished for a dried cherry from the bag I kept stocked in my desk at the office and popped one of the succulent treats into my mouth.

Nope, it was official: my baby bump was here.
 

“It’s here,” I had told Lara that morning before work, the two of us staring at my naked upper half, save for my lone white bra that would also soon need replacing as my breasts were becoming fuller. (Not a bad side effect of being pregnant.)
 

“The bump is officially here,” I said, trying to suck in my stomach. Nothing. Still a bump. We looked at each other and agreed that the coming weekend we would have to go maternity clothes shopping, so we made it a date (more like an emergency) with some of the girls.

But before the fun of a shopping weekend, I had a heavy load of work waiting for me at the office. I made sure that I wore the baggiest shirt I could find that morning, and managed to zip (I didn’t say button—just zip) a pair of somewhat loosely fitted dress slacks. I hadn’t told anyone at work yet about my being pregnant, and, as Lara insisted, it was probably something I’d need to do sooner rather than later if I wanted to make my maternity leave plans well in advance. I didn’t want to draw any attention to myself at work, though, and I didn’t want to deal with anything of the sort before my possible raise.
 

The timing wouldn’t work out, however. There was simply no way around keeping my pregnancy a secret until my review at work was scheduled. “I’ll break the news next week,” I told Lara, halfway lying. I
planned
on telling my boss and colleagues next week, but
actually
doing it was another thing entirely. I figured I’d wait until next week and see how I felt (and looked). If the bump was still somewhat of a covert subject, then why press the matter? From the looks of it, though, my bump seemed to be on the rise and every morning I could swear I was getting bigger and bigger. Absolutely no denying the inevitable.

Mmm, why are you so good?
 

I snagged another handful of cherries from the bag, then made a silent promise to close the drawer (and keep it closed) and get back to work on the finishing touches of the mystery novel cover. I was sure I could have it finished before the weekend. At least the preliminary draft.

Janet had already made some off-color remark about my clothes earlier that morning when she caught sight of even what I considered a hideous and baggy ensemble. Since then I tried to stay put behind my desk as much as possible, not wanting to attract any further attention (or insults) towards me or my choice of wardrobe styling. So when I thought all was clear and most everyone was already at lunch, I made a dash for the restroom.

“Miss Sinclair!” It was Bobby.

I spun around. “Bobby, hey.” I made sure I didn’t cross my arms over my chest, no matter how uncomfortable I may have been, because that was a sure-fire way to attract a glance at my ever-growing stomach.

“Haven’t chatted with you in a while.” He sidled up to me—a little too closely for my taste given my predicament.
 

Please don’t think it odd I’m dressed like someone at Wal-Mart on a Tuesday night.
 

Honestly, the way I was swimming in my large shirt made me feel like all I needed was a pair of sweatpants and jogging shoes, and then a shopping basket full of salt and vinegar potato chips, and I’d fit right in at Wal-Mart.

“Well, you know how it goes. Busy, busy.” I tried to inch towards the bathroom, but Bobby inched along with me.

“How’s things?” he asked.

“Oh, same old. You know. Busy.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rubbed at his jaw, and I caught a tantalizing hint of his cologne. There it was again—that wonderful aroma that I could never peg. “Been wanting to ask you about something,” he said.

Oh no. What? He thinks I’m pregnant?

“The, uh, project manager position that’s been the buzz around here. In the spring, you know?”
 

I nodded, slowly registering the topic up for conversation and becoming relieved he wasn’t addressing my wardrobe disaster…or growing girth.

“So, uh, you thinking of going for it?” he asked.

I wasn’t sure what to say. Would it be, “Absolutely. The position’s got my name on it, so hands off!” or, “Oh, I don’t know…maybe.”

Strong, coy, strong, coy, strong, c—

“Because I definitely think you should try for it. You have a shot. I’m sure of it.”

I was taken aback. Someone at this firm was actually on my side about becoming a PM? And wait a minute, Bobby wasn’t vying for it? Why didn’t he want the position?
 

Maybe Janet’s right…

“I seriously think you should consider it,” he said. “If you haven’t already.”

“Yeah, actually, I am considering it.” I tried to sound confident. “Don’t know if I’ll get it.” And there goes that confidence.

“I think you’d make a great PM. And I bet you’d be a rock star working in the—oh, what are they calling it? The chick lit genre? Probably a fun change from the usual mystery or action novel.”

“We’ll see,” was all I could say. Janet’s words were running through my mind.
 

Was Bobby really going to play the suck up game with me, the potential PM, so he could be my number one guy? Then take advantage, somehow one-up me? Get an “in” with the bosses… No, that’s ridiculous. Or is it?

“Try for it, Robin,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I’ll be rooting for you.”

I smiled weakly and tried to inch on to the bathroom.

“I saw your work on that mystery book you did recently,” he said, still keeping me. “Some solid stuff there, Sinclair.” He made a pumping fist action with his hand. “Saw the print proof and it looks really awesome. Nice work.”

I thanked him coolly and wished him a good lunch break before finally escaping into the bathroom. A second longer and I was afraid he’d take notice of my unusual, baggy clothes, and I was afraid I’d say something stupid like, “Of course I want the position! I’d die for it.” Or, worse, “Is Janet right about you?” Then I’d look like a total fool. And, shoot, why didn’t I ask him if he was going to try for the position?
 

What a lost opportunity.

Even though the office was nearly cleared out for lunch, I still wanted to ensure my privacy as I planned on giving my mother a call during my lunch break. I drove to the familiar park where I’d already spent many-an-awkward lunch break. I’d decided to break the baby news to my mother the same way I had with Brandon. I wanted to do it when I was pressed for time, where I could easily end the call and tell her it was time to get back to work.
 

The weather was warm and filled with sunshine, so I opted to plant myself on one of the park benches while I enjoyed a sandwich, with a very large bag of those salt and vinegar chips on the side. Lara suggested I take a sandwich bag-size of chips for lunch, but I insisted the entire party size bag was a better option.

I tentatively listened to the ringing on the other line as I waited for my mother to pick up her phone.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, reminding myself to be strong and go through with the call as planned.

“Kaitlyn?”

“No, Mom.”

“Robin?” She sounded surprised, and I couldn’t blame her. I think it was Christmas the last time I’d talked to her.