22. Izzy

CHAPTER 22

IZZY

L ola's place was tiny, barely space to stretch out. Her bedroom was smaller than a good-sized closet, and when she folded out her sofa bed, her living room disappeared. Her kitchen was a tiny nook off to one side, a dollhouse-sized fridge and a postcard-sized counter. How she did any cooking, I couldn't imagine. Probably, she didn't. She mostly went out.

I lay on the sofa bed watching her in her bedroom, doing her makeup at her vanity. She did things with her eyeshadow I'd never thought to attempt, dramatic swoops and washes of color. She'd missed her calling, I thought, doing HR. She should've been an artist, a painter maybe.

"He's so thoughtful," she said, trailing gold above her lashes. "We went to this restaurant on our second date, and I loved the sauce they had, this spicy horseradish. I was gushing about it, how good it was, and you wouldn't believe what he did on our next date."

I made a grunting sound, nodding go on .

"He made us this picnic, and— oh! That's him now." She snatched up her phone and her whole face lit up. "‘Can't wait to see you,' then a whole line of hearts. Isn't he the sweetest?" Lola leaned in to inspect herself in the mirror. "Don't you hate how some guys won't say what they're feeling, like if they don't show it, we won't know they have feelings? Yeah, well, guess what? Feelings are like assholes. Everyone's got 'em, so why hide 'em away?"

I burst out laughing. "Why hide our assholes?"

Lola frowned at her reflection. "I think I mixed up my sayings."

"I'll say you did. Please keep your pants on."

"You know what I mean, though. If you love someone, say it. Send them ten hearts on text if that's how you're feeling."

I tried to think if Spencer had ever sent me a heart. He wasn't much on emojis, or really on feelings. He had them, I knew, but he wasn't much good at naming them. He'd laugh if he was happy, yell if he was mad, but if you came out and asked him, Spencer, how are you , he'd sort of grunt back. Okay, I guess .

Lola's face fell. "I'm being a jackass."

I laughed. "No, you're not."

"No, no, I am. You're fresh off a breakup, or whatever you'd call that, and I'm sitting here gloating over ten stupid hearts."

"I'm not so small-minded I'd want you sad too." I tried to sit up, but the sofa was old. Its springs folded under me and I sank into its depths. "Besides, me and Spencer were never a thing. Not like you and your man. We were messing around and I got carried away, and now it's over. And, uh…"

"And what?" Lola glanced back at me, over her shoulder. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes. I'd hoped a time-out might help, some distance from Spencer, but all I could think of was how he was doing. He'd lost his last game. His shot at the cup. Coming that close then losing had to hit hard.

"Don't call him," said Lola. She wagged a finger at me. " He's the one needs to come crawling to you. He's in the wrong, and it's him who dumped you. You need to give him time to realize what he's missing."

"It's not that," I said, wriggling free of the sofa. I rolled to one side and swung my legs off the edge.

"It's not what? You don't want to call him? Don't think I don't see you checking your phone."

I'd reached for my phone, but I pulled my hand back. "I feel bad that he lost, but that's not the problem. It's not that I miss him. I'm not even mad. I mean, I was, but not anymore."

Lola cocked her head. "Then, what is the problem?"

The problem was, I kept picturing us as a family, me and Spencer and our little girl or boy. I'd had a dream last night where it was a girl, and Spencer was trying to dress her in leggings, laughing as she squirmed and kicked herself free. It had felt so real, her giggles, his laughter, her short chubby legs chopping the air. I'd woken up crying because it was so perfect, and kept on crying because it wasn't real. Maybe it could never be. Would Spencer even want that?

"I don't know," I said.

Lola frowned. "Sure, you do. What aren't you telling me?"

I dug back through the years of my friendship with Spencer, trying to think, had we ever talked about kids? Having them? Wanting them? Did he even like them? He'd done a few wishes, the ones for sick kids, where they wished to meet Spencer and he came to visit. He'd even brought one of them on the ice at a game, and coached him through slapping the puck past the goalie. But had he liked that, or was it part of the job? Had it been his idea, or had it been Nelson's?

Lola snapped her fingers. "Hello, space cadet."

"Sorry," I said. "Just trying to think."

"Well, what's that about two heads being better than one? Tell me what's happening. We'll figure it out."

I stood up, then sat down, with nowhere to go. I shuffled my feet on the carpet to vent my frustration. It didn't work very well, and I huffed a harsh breath.

"I don't know what happened," I said at last. "It started so simple, just this fun fling. We'd go and play squash, then go home and make out. Try and sneak in a quick one before our roommate got home. It felt like a game until somehow it wasn't."

"You caught feelings," said Lola.

I shook my head. "More than that. I think the feelings were always there, at least on my end. Ever since I met Spencer, he made me feel safe. I always felt good with him, like I could be myself. You wouldn't think he'd be funny, but he makes me laugh. He's so warm, good-natured. He never gets mean. He'd be such a good father, but…"

"A father?" Lola gasped. "Izzy? Are you pregnant?"

I couldn't look at her. I stared at my feet. "I don't know what happened. We used protection every time."

"Yeah, but nothing's one hundred percent."

I chuckled without humor. She could say that again. I'd taken three more tests in case that applied to them too, but they'd all come back with the same result: two lines. Plus signs. I was one hundred percent pregnant, no doubt about that.

"Have you told him?"

I bit my lip. "No."

"Well, why not?"

I felt like an idiot telling her the truth. "Because I've fallen hard for him. I've been having these dreams. We're together, a family, me and him and our kid, and everything's perfect. Everything's great. As long as I don't tell him, that could still happen. He could still sweep me up when I tell him the news, and ask me to marry him, and swear he's all in. That could all still be real till the moment I tell him. Then he'll say something back to me, and it might not be that. It might be something awful, like ‘are you sure it's mine?' Or he might walk away from me, or pull out his checkbook."

"Or he might not." Lola got up from her vanity and edged around the sofa bed. She sat down beside me and set her hand on my shoulder. "I haven't met Spencer, but I know you pretty well. You know a jerk when you see one. You wouldn't fall for some loser."

"I don't know," I said. I buried my face in my hands. "He said things the other night, when we broke up. Things I'd never have thought would come out of his mouth. He practically blamed me for his game going south."

"That's different," said Lola. "That was a breakup. People get hurt, they say all kinds of things. But a baby is different. A baby's good news."

"To you and me, maybe. But what if he doesn't want one? Or what if he does, but not with me?"

Lola rubbed circles high on my back. "What's the absolute worst he could say if you told him?"

I bit my lip. "I don't know. The possibilities are endless. Every time I think I've come to the worst, I find a whole worse worst buried under that."

"That's the thing with these rabbit holes. They go on forever. Once you tell him, you'll know, and you can move on from there. Until you do that, you're stuck with all of those worsts."

I wanted to argue, but I knew she was right. Spencer did need to know, and sooner was better. But if he did let me down, my heart would just break.

"He might surprise you," said Lola. "Or, hell, not surprise you. You've known him what now, going on ten years?"

"Yeah, around that. We met back in college."

"So think of the man you've known that whole time. The one who's been your friend, who's been there through so much. Would he want to hurt you? Has he ever before?"

I let my hands drop into my lap. "No, not on purpose. I mean, we've had our moments. We've disagreed here and there, sometimes quite loudly, but we've always cooled down and figured it out."

Lola nudged me in the arm. "And how about now? Your head feeling cooler?"

I started to say it wasn't — I was still pissed — but the truth was, my anger had mostly burned out. What I felt now was sadness and hurt and confusion. Why had Spencer, of all people, pushed me away? It felt weird not talking, not having him around. Not shooting him a text when I heard something funny. Maybe Spencer was the same by now, feeling my absence. Feeling stupid and dickish for the things he'd said.

Or maybe he wasn't.

"Talk to him," said Lola. "You love him, right?"

I let out a pained sound, half sob, half sigh. In the end, it came down to that: I did love Spencer. Maybe I always had, since we'd first met. Even if he ended up not feeling the same, wasn't love worth fighting for? At least speaking up?

I closed my eyes and thought back to my dream, me and Spencer, our baby. Our family. The air filled with laughter, his, mine, our baby's. That future might never be, but it still could. If he didn't feel how I felt, we could do it as friends. Raise our baby together, coparent, whatever. The Spencer I knew would find a way to be there.

"All right," I said. "All right, I'll tell him."