Page 28 of Truth or More Truth (Throwback RomComs #3)

twenty-seven

. . .

“ H e still hasn’t called.” I’m whining, but I don’t feel bad about it. It’s now the fourth of January, and I have yet to hear from Bobby. I knew it was all too good to be true.

“Patience, my friend,” Wendy says from the other end of the phone. “He’ll call.”

“How do you know?” I wrap the phone cord around my finger.

“Because he’s Bobby. He said he’d explain everything to you, and he always does what he says. His timeline just happens to be a little different than yours.”

“Has he called Randall to get my phone number, at least?” We never did exchange numbers, since we thought we’d be spending another day together.

“No, but we’re not the only people he knows who have your number.”

“Well, he’s not going to try to get ahold of Leslie and Ash right now, is he?” I flop onto my back on my couch in frustration.

“You make a valid point. But still, he’ll call. You can count on it.”

“What if I don’t like what he has to say?”

“Then you don’t. But you won’t know whether you’ll like it until you hear it. ”

I drape my free arm over my face. “Can’t you just tell me what’s going on with him?”

“I most definitely cannot. Now, we need to get your mind off all this. Why don’t you come over, and we’ll have dinner and watch TV. It’s mostly reruns tonight, but there’s a new episode of China Beach .”

“And we’ll drink wine,” I add.

She hesitates before saying, “There will be wine. I’ll send Randall out to get food from Pat’s Diner so nobody has to cook. What do you want from there?”

Within thirty minutes, I’m knocking on the door of my friends’ apartment. Wendy opens it for me and heads straight to the couch, where she plops down unceremoniously and puts her feet up. I take a seat on the other end of the couch.

“Randall’s out picking up the food. Should be back soon. I’m starving.”

Wendy pats her belly, and then she starts caressing it, which is odd. As I watch her hand and then move my focus up to her face, which has a dreamy look on it, a smile grows on my own face.

“You’re pregnant!” I point at her.

Her gaze shoots to mine. “What?”

“Don’t you lie to me, Wendy O’Halloran Hamilton. I never saw you drink a drop of alcohol at the wedding, and now you’re rubbing your belly like it’s a genie’s lamp. There’s a baby in there. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Now she’s beaming. “Yeah, there’s a little pea-sized baby in me.” She punches the air and squeals. “We’re having a baaaaaby!”

I launch myself at her, and we hug and laugh and cry like we’re teenagers, not fully grown women.

When I drag myself from her and we wipe the happy tears from our faces, she says, “I have even more news.”

“Bigger than having a baby?”

“Maybe not bigger, but pretty big. We’re moving this month.”

“This month?”

Wendy nods.

I grab one of her hands in both of mine. “Please tell me you’re moving to Randall’s mom’s house earlier than planned, not that you’ve somehow gotten new jobs in another city and are leaving me.”

“Yes, we’re moving earlier because of the baby.

If we waited until Sonya moves to college in August like we planned, we’d be cutting things too close with this little guy or gal.

” She pats her stomach. “We figured we might as well move now and get the kitchen started and set up the nursery and everything. I can’t wait to start decorating! ”

Randall and Ash’s dad passed away unexpectedly last year, and their mom considered selling their huge estate just off the lake up in Evanston, but the four kids talked her out of it.

Randall and Wendy plan to move into one wing of the house and turn it into their own “apartment,” which is bigger than most people’s houses.

When Ash and Leslie return from their honeymoon, they’ll be living in the pool house on the property.

It won’t be big enough for an entire family, but they’re planning to wait a few years to start having kids, so it’ll work for now.

“I’m so excited for you guys.” I squeeze her hand.

“It’ll be a little farther drive for you to get to us from Wrigleyville,” she says, “but you’ll never have to look for a parking spot!”

I laugh. “So true. And you’ll have plenty of guest rooms if I want to stay over. Wait. You will, right? I know there’s a ton of rooms in that house, but with you guys there, and Sonya and Tonya still needing rooms when they’re home from college …”

She smiles. “We will. There’s plenty of space in the guest wing. Diego has already informed us he’s going to give up his suite at the Drake and will be taking over a few rooms when he’s in town during the season, but there will still be rooms left over.”

I chuckle. “That sounds exactly like Diego. Telling—not asking.”

“We don’t mind. Mama Ruth loves him like he’s her own child.” She gives me a sly look. “He also said he’s going to convince Bobby to stay there, too, when he’s in town.”

I groan. “I might have to avoid your house then, if things don’t work out with him.”

She gently pushes my shoulder. “It’ll either work out romance-wise, or you’ll stay friends. Stop your worrying.”

Brrrring!

Wendy reaches to the side table next to her and picks up the phone. “Hello?” Her eyes shoot to me. “Hi, Bobby. How’s everything going?”

I scoot closer to her to try and hear him, but she shoves me away.

“Mmhm.” Wendy nods, still holding me at arms’ length. She’s surprisingly strong for someone so small. As she listens to whatever Bobby’s saying, she responds with small noises or says vague phrases so I can’t tell what he’s talking about.

Finally, she says, “Thanks for letting us know. Randall’s not home, but I’ll fill him in.

We’ll be thinking about you, and please let us know if there’s anything we can do.

” She pauses. “You’re family, Bobby, and family helps out however they can.

You know that better than most.” Her eyes dart to me and away again as Bobby says at least several sentences I can’t make out. “Yeah, I’ll tell her.”

Her? Who’s “her”? Me? I point to my chest, but Wendy won’t look directly at me.

“By the way,” she says, “do you have her phone number?”

Again I point to myself, and she answers by giving Bobby my number. I sigh in relief.

“OK, bye.” Wendy waves, as if Bobby can see her. “Talk to you soon.”

“What did he say?” I demand the second she hangs up the phone.

“He said to tell you he’s sorry he hasn’t called yet, but he’ll call you soon.” She smirks. “I told you so.”

I roll my eyes. “You did. What else did he say?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“I had to try, though.”

The door opens and Randall walks in. “The food has arrived!” He holds up the bags and kicks the door shut with his foot.

“I told her,” Wendy tells him without explaining what she’s talking about .

“Oh, good. Because there was no way I was going to be able to keep our big secret through an entire evening. It was hard enough at the wedding, and I’ve hit my limit.” He’s beaming even more than Wendy, which I didn’t think was possible.

I push off the couch and throw my arms around him, bags and all. “I’m so happy for you guys!”

“I knew you would be. I wanted to tell you at the wedding, but this one,” he jerks his head toward his wife as I let him go, “refused to let me.”

“That’s not true.” Wendy tosses a throw pillow in his direction, but it falls short. Athletic, she is not.

“You’re right. It’s not.” He drops the bags on the small kitchen table. “We decided ahead of time to only tell Ash and Leslie. Didn’t want to overshadow their big day.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” I hold out a hand to Wendy and pull her up off the couch. She’s already acting like she’s gained fifty pounds with this pregnancy, which is kind of cute.

“So you know our secret.” Randall grabs plates out of the cabinet and sets them on the table. “Now it’s time for us to hear yours.”

“My secret?” I point to myself. “What secret?”

“About what you and Bobby got up to at the wedding.” He grins as he pours water into glasses.

My face burns. “Um, you saw us coming out of that office.”

“Yes, and coming out of your car.” He chuckles. “Anything else to share?”

I sigh as I unwrap my burger and put it on my plate. “No. We each went to our own rooms when we got back to the hotel, and then when I opened my door early the next morning, it wasn’t him but Diego standing there. That’s the end of the story.”

“It’s not.” Wendy dumps the entire container of French fries onto her plate. “He left you a note. And he just now told me he’s going to call you. In time.”

“Bobby called?” Randall tries to grab a fry off Wendy’s plate, but she smacks his hand away.

“Yeah, I’ll fill you in on the details later, but he told me to tell our impatient little friend here that he’s sorry he hasn’t called yet, but he’s going to.”

Wendy heaves herself out of her chair with a groan and takes the few steps to the refrigerator. After moving a few things around inside, she holds up a container of mustard like it’s the holy grail. Then she empties what must be half the bottle onto the fries.

So much for me trying to steal any fries away from her. “That is disgusting.”

She holds a mustard-laden fry aloft. “It’s delicious. And now neither of you will try to pilfer any of my fries.”

“They were supposed to be all of our fries,” Randall mutters.

“What did you say, dear husband?”

“I said I hope you enjoy your fries, my gloriously beautiful Glinda.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“So, Melissa,” Randall’s attention turns back to me, “are you prepared to move to L.A. if things work out with you and Bobby?”

I nearly choke on my burger. “What?”

“He lives there. You live here.” He points in opposite directions. “Somebody’s going to have to move if you want to be together long-term. Are you willing to move out west?”

It’s not like I haven’t thought about the long-distance aspect, because it’s been top of mind, but I haven’t thought seriously about whether I’d be willing to move to California. “I don’t know.”

“You just moved back here a year ago,” Wendy says. “It’s understandable if you don’t want to move again.”

I shake my head. “It’s not about moving, in general. And it’s not even that I’m opposed to living in California. It’s that I moved back here because it’s where my parents are. I don’t really want to leave again, especially with my dad not in the best health.”

“I get that.” Randall gets up and grabs a beer out of the fridge. “But what if Bobby can’t move here?”

“Randall.” Wendy’s tone is terse.

“What? I’m just asking. ”

I look back and forth between them. “What I’m reading between the lines is that Bobby isn’t in a position to move here. Is that right?”

“Maybe,” Randall mutters.

“Okay, fine.” Wendy points a yellow fry at me. “But you can’t tell Bobby we let this slip, even if we didn’t technically spill any beans.”

“Just tell me.”

“You’ll understand when you talk to him, but no, I don’t think he’d be able to move here.”

I groan. “The man just needs to tell me what’s going on.”

“We know.” Randall takes a sip of his beer. “We’ve all told him. Multiple times.”

“He’s being a chicken.” Wendy picks up two fries and holds them in front of her mouth in what I assume she’s pretending is a beak. “Bawk-bawk!”