Page 18 of Ruin The Friendship
I groan, grab my phone, and look at the last messages I sent Jude.
Me
Hey, I had a great time last night. Would you like to get together again tomorrow?
Doing my best not to look at the pitiful message I sent, I type out a new one.
Me
Hey, Jude, it’s Lydia. Can we get coffee soon? There’s something important I need to talk to you about.
There. Easy enough.
Now, I just have to hit send.
Nausea roils in my gut, and it’s not from the baby. I have to put on my big girl panties and do this.
I click the little blue button, and the message goes off with awhoosh. There. I did it. I set my phone back on the coffee table upside down as I take a few deep breaths.
Now, the inevitable waiting period. If he doesn't reply, I can say I tried, right? It’s not like I’m going to creepily find his address and show up at his doorstep. That’d be way too much.
My phone vibrates against the table, only it’s a call. I flip it over, expecting to see Jude’s name, but surprise—my mom’s contact is on the screen. I rub my temples, a headache already forming from the thought of talking to her. But if I don’t answer, she’ll keep calling.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer with a tight smile.
“Lydia, how are you?” I must wait a second too long to answer, since she continues. “Wonderful. Your father and I are coming to town the weekend of the twenty-fifth, and we’d like to get lunch with you. Tell me when you’d like to meet.”
“Um.” I swallow the continued nausea. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to look at my schedule. I think Fletcher has a game that Saturday afternoon. Would you want to go?”
“You know your father hates loud crowds.” She sounds almost accusatory.
“Right.” I glare at the phone, willing this conversation to come to a swift end. “Sunday might work better then.”
She sniffs. “You don’t have to go toeverygame.”
“I know I don’t, but I already have plans with a few friends, which is why I thought you’d like to go, since we have the suite.” The one and only time I took them to a game of Fletcher’s, they were in a mood the entire time, andthey left between the second and third period, stating hockey had no decorum.
It was a pretty physical game, but clearly, they don’t get the same thrill out of watching fights. Calvin is more of a fighter than Fletcher, but every so often, he gets into one, and even though I’m always worried about him getting hurt, it makes things extra exciting. Losing a few teeth comes with the territory when you play hockey.
“Fine,” she says in a clipped tone. “Sunday it is. We’ll make reservations for eleven. I will text you with the location.”
“How long are you in town?”
I suppose if I have to tell them I’m pregnant with their first grandchild, there could be worse ways to do it.
“Friday evening through Sunday afternoon. We decided to detour and pay you a visit before our trip to Spain.”
“Oh, Spain?”
Considering my mother’s love of travel and her expensive taste, the trip doesn’t surprise me. Spain is one of her favorite places to be.
“Yes, Spain. Your father gifted me a month-long trip there for our anniversary.”
“That was nice of him.”
It would have been nice to know sooner, but oh well. My parents have never been fond of communicating—or rather, they don’t seem to care about communicating with me. Usually, I get around thirty-six hours’ notice before they arrive in town. This much time is pretty good for them.
“It was.” She hums. “We’ll see you then, darling. Wear something flattering.”
