Page 110 of Office Hours
She bounces in her seat, genuinely excited. “Wait, does he know yet? Are you gonna tell him?”
“I haven’t even processed it myself,” I say. “I walked around the city for three hours after the appointment. I just… I’m still in shock.”
Andie gets serious again, picking at the edge of her cup. “Do you want to be a mom? Like, for real?”
It’s a good question, and I let it settle. “Yes. But I just started my master’s, and?—”
She nods, lips pursed. “Yeah, that would be a lot.” She leans in. “But whatever you do, you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll help.Hell, I’ll be the cool aunt. I’ll teach your baby to swim before they can walk.”
The sincerity in her voice almost breaks me. I look away, blinking hard.
Andie, in true form, switches tracks before I can spiral. “Speaking of babies, you’ll love this,” she says, her tone slipping back to its default: chaos. “Remember Stella, from down the hall?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I’ve been boinking her dad.”
I squint at my pretty friend. “Yes, you told me. He’s the older man you’ve been hooking up with.”
Andie smirks. “Yeah, and it’s amazing. We go at it like rabbits. Middle-aged men are so much more fun. They’re all, like, hardened and throbbing.”
The visual almost makes me choke. “You’re out of your mind.”
“Not really. Thomas is divorced and knows a lot about life. Plus, he gives me better relationship advice than my therapist.” She winks. “But we’re careful. Don’t want a surprise baby myself.”
The irony is not lost on me, and I can’t help laughing. The tension dissolves, just a little.
I give her a look. “You use condoms, right?”
Andie rolls her eyes. “Of course, Mom. But honestly, we do anal a lot to be safe. Not all the time, but, like, a lot. So I’m fine.”
The way she says it—so airy, so matter-of-fact—makes me crack up for real. “That’s your plan? The back door is birth control?”
She deadpans. “Worked so far. Besides, it’s fun.”
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. “You’re insane.”
She reaches across the table and grabs my hand. “You love me for it.”
I squeeze back, and in that moment I do. I love her for always bringing spark to our conversations.
We finish our drinks in silence. The world outside glows with the blue hour, everything saturated and surreal.
Finally, she breaks it. “So what are you going to do about Liam?”
I don’t answer right away. I watch a group of undergrads pass the window, all limbs and laughter. I think about Liam, about his face when I tell him, about the mess of wanting and not wanting.
“I’m not ready to tell him,” I say, quiet.
Andie nods. “You don’t have to be. Just let me know when you want me to tell him for you,” she jokes.
I grin. “Deal.”
She stands, collects our cups, and heads for the trash. On her way, she shoots me a look—half-conspiratorial, half-mother hen.
“You’re going to be okay,” she says, and for a second, I almost believe her.
I linger a while after she leaves, letting the hum of the café seep into my bones. I listen to the clink of spoons and the low murmur of strangers, and for the first time all day, I feel like the ground under me is solid.
