Series: Like Us Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174544 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 873(@200wpm)___ 698(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
It slams into me.
Luna’s seeing another guy already.
She’s been out at a club kissing someone else.
She’s secretly hooking up with O’Malley.
That last thought—makes no sense. But it douses me with gasoline and sets me on fire.
“Alright,” I breathe. “What is it?”
“At the Fanaticon Convention, she’s planning to meet up with another guy.”
My nose flares and stomach overturns. “Who?”
“I don’t know his name, but I call him Wonder Bread.”
“‘Cause he’s a basic white boy?”
“No, it’s because his username is StaleBread89.”
Pure fucking relief.
I end up laughing. Shouldn’t have doubted Luna. I feel badly about that, but in this second, I could literally walk on the moon.
Frog scrunches her face at me. “What? It’s not funny.” She comes in closer and whisper-hisses, “I thought you like her. I know I assumed it, but I’m usually not that far off. And she’s awesome. You should love her, actually. She’s that amazing, and she’s way better than you, honestly. Fuck you—”
“Frog,” I laugh, touching my chest. “I’m Wonder Bread.”
Her mouth drops. “Shut up.”
“I’m not basic though.” I can’t even explain anything else yet—my laugh fades and smile vanishes. “They turned left.” For the briefest second, I don’t have my eyes on Jane or Luna, and before I kick myself too hard, we turn and they’re in view.
They’re alright.
I breathe out.
Frog surveys the new lush surroundings and our clients.
We’re in the center of the maze.
Ivy spindles down trellises, and stone benches surround a sculptural fountain, one of a goddess with a bow and arrow. Water trickles out of her palm, splashing in the pool.
Jane is meandering around, taking notes, and Frog does a good job scouting potential exits. I watch Luna sniff a rich orange flower—what I think are mums. She slips a tiny glance my way. It swells inside my chest. I pull my eyes off her to inspect the pathway we just left—but I look back, just as she does too.
As we walk around the center of the maze, the fountain between us, we steal glimpses of one another. Our eyes catch in quiet, tender seconds, and I almost hear music. I like thinking that moments carry melodies, and being with Luna is like listening to the exultant hum of my soul.
I’ll never get tired of the sound.
She begins to smile, but the heartache and longing inside it is tearing through me.
Can’t be together.
I’m working on it.
Then I look to the exit, to Frog, back to Jane. She hasn’t said anything in the past five minutes or so. For someone so chatty, it’s like red skies overhead, warning of a storm. She’s also starting to pace.
Luna sees. “Jane? Everything okay?”
“I think this’ll work…for the cocktail…party,” Jane says, red-cheeked and wincing a little. She’s on her phone. “I mean, hour. Cocktail…hour.”
“You want to sit down?” I ask, my concern suddenly spiking. She’s two weeks from her due date, and to take extra precaution, she had a doctor appointment yesterday just to clear her for this garden-outing.
“I passed with flying colors,” Jane told me with a wide grin like she aced an exam. She patted her round bump like the baby was also an honorary grade-A student.
So I try not to think the worst. Though it wasn’t Farrow checking on her yesterday, and he’s the only guy with an MD that I trust. I run a hand through my hair, and watch Jane’s face contort into a more pained wince. Not good. So not good.
Frog whispers to me, “Is she going into labor?”
Holy shit, I hope not. I swing my head back to one of the seven hedged archways, only knowing the path we came from. What if she can’t walk? I could carry her. Is it safe to carry a woman in labor? Probably not, I’m thinking.
I run another tensed hand through my hair. It’s not labor. There are a million other things it could be. But any way I toss it, pain isn’t a good sign for a pregnant woman.
“Yeah, here, sit,” Luna tries to guide Jane to a bench, but Jane just plops down on the nearest perch: the fountain’s ledge.
She’s tapping at her phone screen, more distressed. “Does anyone have cell service?”
We all take out our phones.
Luna shakes her head to me.
Frog frowns too.
I’ve got nothing. Why are the satellite gods fucking with me today of all days?
“No? Yes?” Jane asks through her teeth, clearly in pain.
My nose flares, and I pocket my phone while I try comms, but the connection is poor too. “I had signal earlier. Back further in the maze.” I received and sent texts. “I can go back—”
“Call Thatcher,” Jane grits out, then screams, buckling forward with her hands on her belly.
Noooooo. I jolt towards her but there’s nothing I can do for pain. I’m not even carrying a damn Tylenol on me. Gonna start doing that from now on.