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Her hands clasp in front of her, a symbol of just how strictly business this conversation is.

“Let’s not even call it that. It would just be sex. We don’t even have to talk to each other.”

“I don’t see how that benefits me.”

She glances down to my phone screen with a knowing–or maybe she onlythinksshe knows something–look.

“You must see something, or you wouldn’t still be sitting here,” she points out.

I sigh.

“Maybeyou have a point on the convenience of it all,” I admit. “But how do I know you’re going to make it worth my while?”

“I could make my case right now.” My breath catches when she stands and heads for her front door. “So are you going to let me?”

I hardly even hesitate.

Of course I am.

17

Time flies and not much changes. The weather is dreary, my job is slow, and my daughter is perfect as always. I avoid Caleb, and I try to spare my parents of my presence as much as possible. I couldn’t do it entirely because ofher.Still.

Despite taking her up on her offer, and spending a lot of my free evenings at her place, she continues with her wicked ways. I’ve actually noticed somewhat of a pattern, that unfortunately does not align with the days my daughter is home. It’s always the worst after she comes back after being gone for a night. It drives me crazy wondering where she goes that causes her to feel so angsty when she gets back.

I can’t exactly ask. We don’t really talk much when we’re together, although I’ve tried. I’ve attempted to get to know her better, but she’s given me a whole lot of nothing, so here we are.

I let myself enjoy having the release without overthinking it. She happens to beverygood at reciprocating, not that she’ll everhear those words from my mouth, she doesn’t deserve the ego boost. I’m fine keeping that opinion to myself.

Completelyto myself. The girls don’t know any of what’s transpired since the baby shower, and I want to keep it that way for the time being. If they outright ask, that’s one thing, but I think we’ve all been too busy for chit chat lately. Vic sends me funny videos or recipes she wants me to try, like these cranberry lemon cinnamon rolls she sent the other day. I’ve been drooling since.

Autumn has sent me one single photo of Elaine and Freddy curled up in a dog bed together.

That’s about how things usually are between us. Not in a negative way, it’s just the reality of being grown adults with our own families. We’ve been lucky these days, finding excuses often, but I knew a drought was coming. It just makes us that much more excited for the next time we have plans together, which I imagine will be the day Angeline arrives. Her due date is coming up, and I wait for the phone call every day.

“What are you drinking?”

“The blood of my enemies,” I reply as I pass by my neighbor on my way out.

Surely she can tell I’m in a hurry, considering my hands that are overflowing with all the things I’ll need for my long work shift today. I’m bringing a packed lunch, along with an extra sweater and a box of tampons.

The last one might look questionable, but it’s easier if I just leave the whole thing in the bathroom at work. I’m not embarrassed for anyone to see me carrying it around either, it’s just part of life.

They’re all things I don’t usually bring with me, so I’m feeling pretty weighed down. That, and I’m having an unusually heavy flow and some awfully sharp cramps this morning.

I look down at the cup, wishing I had added enough strawberry syrup to give it more of a red color.

“That’s hot,” she says.

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs.

“What are you doing later?”

“Aw, do you want to hang out?”

Her expression fills with blatant disgust.