shrugs. “The women here—at least the ones I’ve run into—aren’t looking for something real. They care about the kind of car you drive, and what you’re going to buy them.”
“Superficial,” I say. And I can’t deny that what Jared says is true. I’ve seen it myself. Here, women are all about designer shoes, designer bags, high-end cars. I like pretty things as much as the next girl, but I’ve never been about being with a guy for what he can do for me financially.
“Been there, done that, and I’m not getting married only to get divorced again. I’d rather be single than settle.”
“Preaching to the choir, my friend,” I say. It’s the reason I haven’t wanted to jump into marriage with Dom. I love him, and he’s great to me. But there’s the little thought in my mind, the fear: What if something goes wrong?
Claudia and Lishelle tell me that I’m being overly paranoid, and point out that Dom is not Charles. I know they’re right. And now that I’m pregnant, Dom and I will be connected for life, whether we want that or not.
“Whatever happened to the brother you were supposed to bring by? You remember—you were supposed to do a photo shoot with him?”
“Right, right. Why don’t we set up an appointment. I’ve got time off coming in two weeks, so no excuse.”
“Wait. Did you say that you’ve got time off?”
“Ten days.”
My mind is churning with a sinfully delicious idea. “Any plans?”
“Other than rest and relaxation?”
“I mentioned to you that I want you to meet my friend. Lishelle—the one you’ve seen on the news?”
“Right.”
“And you have a brother. And I’ve got another friend.” I’m speaking more to myself now, the idea taking full shape in my mind. “This could be perfect.”
“What could be perfect?”
I grin. “Take a seat.”
On Sunday, once I’ve got confirmation that Jared and his brother are in, I drop my little bombshell on my friends while we’re at Liaisons.
“I have a surprise for you,” I announce.
In unison, both Lishelle’s and Claudia’s eyebrows lift in curiosity. But Lishelle is the one to speak. “What kind of surprise?”
“The kind that’ll take us away from Atlanta for a while,” I reply.
“A trip?” Claudia asks. “Like a weekend getaway?”
“No, like a real trip. To Jamaica. Or Mexico. Or heck, even Paris.”
“As long as it’s not Vegas,” Lishelle quips, reminding us all that our trip to Vegas, while fun, had had a dark side.
“Listen, my stomach’s grumbling,” Claudia announces. “Let’s get some food and continue this conversation.”
So we head to the buffet spread, and I make sure to satisfy my craving for hot pancakes smothered in butter and syrup. Hey, I’m eating for two.
Back at the table, I don’t want the subject of the trip to be forgotten. So after I’ve devoured a good portion of my pancakes, I say, “I’m serious about going away. What do you say, ladies? A week in the Caribbean? If we go to Mexico, maybe you two can find your own Miguel.”
Claudia, Lishelle and I have all been impressed with my sister’s boyfriend, Miguel, whom she met when we were in Costa Rica trying to find information on some of my late husband’s illegal activities. Miguel has been the dream boyfriend—romantic, attentive and incredibly hot. He was instantly smitten with Samera and has remained smitten—an impressive feat, judging by the guys in the past who haven’t been able to handle Samera’s hard edge long-term. I guess that edge is to be expected of a girl who was raised in a strict religious home, rejected a lifestyle she found to be hypocritical and ended up working as a stripper. These days, she’s back at school studying to become a paralegal.
“Okay, now I’m intrigued,” Claudia says. “I’d almost be willing to let my family disown me if I could find a man who adores me as much as Miguel adores Samera.”
“Lishelle?” I say. “Are you game?”
“When are you talking? In a couple of months? Because I’ve got work.”
“In a couple of months, no one’s going to let me get on a plane.” I raise an eyebrow. “Everyone at your station loves you, Lishelle. They always allow you flexibility. You’ve got some vacation time coming, don’t you? I’m sure you won’t have a problem getting a week off.”
When neither Lishelle nor Claudia speak, I say, “Come on. This may be our last trip together for a long, long time.” To emphasize my words, I rub my belly. “Seriously, we need to get away now. In a couple of months I won’t be able to get around much, and if I’m going to go anywhere, I want to enjoy it. It has to be now.”
“You’ve got a point … “ Lishelle agrees.
“I’m going—with or without you,” I threaten. “But what kind of trip would it be without my two best girls?”
And suddenly, I begin to tear up. Yes, part of it is hormones. I’ve become incredibly emotional since getting pregnant. But it hits me just how much my life is going to change.
“I’m not going to be able to take off for girlfriend trips for a long, long time,” I say. “If ever again. Even our Sunday brunches … I don’t know that I’ll be able to do that anymore.”
“Maybe not right away,” Claudia says, “but you’ll be bringing that baby out to meet us every week—even if we have to change the brunch spot to your place.”
I wipe at the tears that have fallen down my cheeks. “Ignore me. Pregnancy throws your emotions out of whack.”
And though I didn’t plan the tears, I’m glad they fell. Because I need my friends to say yes. I need them going on this trip with me.
If they don’t go, it’ll blow the surprise I’ve arranged. The kind of surprise that might lead to their own happily-ever-afters.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Claudia asks.
“Hell, yes, I’m serious.” I brush at more tears. “Clear your schedule for the first week of October. We’re going away.”
“That’s two weeks from now,” Lishelle says.
“Exactly.” It has to be then, because that’s when Jared and his brother are available. “Two weeks is plenty of time.”
“We don’t even know if there’ll be availability with such short notice,” Lishelle points out.
“There are plenty of resorts in the Caribbean. Mexico. There’ll be space somewhere.”
Lishelle
