Page 116 of Good For Me

River

Itake a moment in the Jeep, like I do every single damn day, to try and get my head right. To shake off some of the frustration that I always feel after work, to try and dispel the panicked feeling that claws at my chest every day before I go inside. To fucking breathe.

At least it’s the weekend,I remind myself as I climb out of the Jeep. I won’t have to go back there for two whole days.

It doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

But when I step up onto the porch, the noise I hear from inside makes all the tension and tightness in my chest go soft. Jasmine is in there, laughing.

And that’s why I’ll be right back in that office on Monday, no matter how much I might hate it. No matter how soul crushing it feels to sit in that cubicle. I would do much worse for her. For the baby.

And hating my job seems like a very small price to pay in light of how lucky I am in every other way.

I open the door and the sight that meets my eyes brings a smile to my face. Jas is stretched out on the floor, a bowl of chips balanced on top of her rounded stomach, while Everly paints her toenails and Bodhi reads something from the book in his lap.

“…the extra hormones can slow down your digestion and lead to particularly unpleasant gas,” he says, before looking up when I enter the room. His expression turns sheepish. “Uh, hey, Riv.”

“That’s a pleasant description to come home to,” I say, and Jas laughs, making the bowl on her belly jiggle.

“We’re playing a game,” she explains. “Bodhi and Everly are trying to find the grossest thing in that book. Whoever freaks me out the most, wins.”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face if I tried. I’d been a little worried, when she first moved in here two weeks ago, that she might not feel comfortable with Everly and Bodhi. They can be a little…much. They’re both basically the definition of extroverted and definitely over-the-top. Pretty much the exact opposite of Jasmine.

But I was wrong—she’s crazy about them. She laughs at all of their ridiculous behavior, goes crazy for the elaborate breakfasts Bodhi cooks, and even allowed herself to be roped into watching whatever stupid dating reality competition they’re currently obsessed with. It amuses her to no end to make fun of the show, knowing how defensive they both are about it.

“What’s the winner get?” I ask.

“Winner gets to pick where we get take out,” Bodhi says. He grimaces a little as he looks down at the book. “Though reading about this shit is kind of screwing with my appetite.”

“It’s better to be prepared now,” Everly says, swiping purple polish over Jasmine’s big toe. “Someday whatever woman you fall in love with is going to have a baby, and it would be pretty shitty if you’re like, gagging all the time when she talks about her pregnancy.”

Everly’s head is bent over Jasmine’s feet, so she can’t see his expression. Jas and I both can, though. I meet her eyes and see a wince on her face that I’m sure matches mine. The longing in Bodhi’s eyes when he looks at Everly is impossible to miss.

“There you go,” my cousin says cheerily, completely oblivious. “All done.” She pats Jas on the knee. “You should stay still for a few more minutes so it doesn’t smudge.”

“Fine by me,” Jas says, reaching for a chip from her belly bowl.

“You want a drink to go with that?” I ask, already heading to the kitchen. I try not to think about the six pack of pilsner I know Bodhi has in the fridge. Agreeing to give up liquor for the duration of Jasmine’s pregnancy right before starting a job I hate with my entire being was maybe not the smartest move.

“Sure,” she calls to my retreating back.

“If you’re making her one of those raspberry things, I want one too,” Bodhi adds.

I take the jar of muddled raspberries—which I make sure to keep a constant supply of in the fridge since Jas moved in—and start making four drinks, knowing Everly will end up trying to drink half of Bodhi’s if she doesn’t have her own. I’m just adding some ice when a pair of arms slide around my middle.

I don’t have to turn to know it’s her. I’d know the feel of these arms in my sleep. “I thought you weren’t supposed to smear your polish,” I tell her, covering her hands over my belly.

“You look tense,” she murmurs. “Wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Shit. The last thing I want is for her to worry about me.

“Long day,” I admit, not wanting to lie but not wanting to make her worry, either. I turn in her arms so I can look down at her, bringing my palms to her back. “Glad to come home to you.”

She studies my face more closely than I would like. “How’s work going otherwise?” she asks carefully.

I force a smile. “Pretty good.”

That’s not even a lie, technically. Do I hate it every minute I spend there? Pretty much. But as far as jobs go, I’m lucky. I like my boss and a few of my co-workers. There are a couple assholes who think the fact my family owns the company makes me a spoiled brat riding their coattails, but I’m used to that. There’s also Jeff, the annoying guy from finance who never stops asking me about my dad and trying to get me to go out to lame sports bars with him and his friends.