Best Laid Plans

Sisterly Advice

Perrie

"Be ready by six," Jade says as she drops me off at her condo. She's dropping me at her place because I basically live there now since she escorted me back to the hotel to pack up my things. I went along with it because I like Tubbs and I figured it wouldn't hurt to spend a little time with Jade while I'm in town for the conference.

Also, Jade's place is nicer than the hotel.

But that's it. Those are the only reasons.

"Ready for what?" I ask, hand on the door handle ready to hop out of her SUV.

"Dinner."

"Whoa." I drop my hand from the door and turn to her. "Like you want me to have dinner on the table by six? Really, Jade. Just because you put an imaginary ring on it and put a bun in my oven doesn't mean I'm going to quit my job and spend my days cleaning and putting dinner on the table every night at six like a 1950s housewife, just so you know. And I'm not ironing your clothes. I might make biscuits every once in a while, though. If I stay. Which is still an if."

"Are you done?" she asks in unamused tone.

"Yes."

"Mrs. Lascola comes daily Monday through Friday. She does the cleaning, shopping and laundry. My dry-cleaning is delivered to the concierge desk, from where she retrieves it and places it in my closet. She brings the mail from the lobby and leaves it on the desk in my study. She also prepares meals and leaves them in the fridge to be heated."

Oh.

"So no," Jade continues, "I'm not expecting you to be my 1950s housewife, because Mrs. Lascola who gets very well paid by the way, is my 1950s housewife, minus your surly attitude problem. You, Perrie, are my twenty-first-century bride-to-be. What I expect from you is that you're doing everything you need to do to take care of the baby you're carrying. Besides that, I expect you to do whatever it is that you find personally fulfilling. I don't give a fuck if it's dusting, or knitting, or photography, or real estate, or running a goddamned empire. Are we clear?"

"Fine, yes," I huff. "God damn, you're dramatic."

She rolls her eyes at me. "You're one to talk. Be ready at six, because I'm taking you out to dinner," she says, stressing the words. She could have done that to start with. "On a date," she adds.

"Why?" I stare at her, a million questions running through my mind.

"Because we haven't been on a real date and I thought it would be nice, all things considered," she shrugged.

I wonder if it's sad that I don't quite know what to do with nice. That my first reaction is to wonder why the hell she's bothering when she's already got me. I'm not saying no one's ever taken me to dinner before but... I've never quite been in this situation either.

"Um, okay," I agree as I slide out of the car. "Have a good day," I add before I push the car door closed and watch her merge between cars on the street.

I think I'm going to say yes.

Yes to whatever we're doing for the sake of the baby. Or Jade. Or both, I don't know. Maybe it's a little for me too. Or more than a little. I can't deny having help with the baby isn't the worst idea. And Jade seems like a pretty responsible girl. She doesn't have rental insurance because she owns her condo, she explained that on the ride back, but she's got homeowner's insurance which is the same thing. Plus, she's overfeeding Tubbs so she probably wouldn't forget to feed our baby and oh god, I might be spiraling. Overthinking things is really not my jam.

Screw it. I turn and head inside. This building has a doorman who has already learned my name and holds the door open with a "Welcome back, Miss Edwards," as I pass through. It's a bit much, but it's not the worst perk in the world. If I stay, it'd be nice to have someone to hold the door when I've got a stroller, right?