That lump in my throat returns. “No, I don’t. But if you really want to go, Sam, it’s up to you.”

“Oh.” He looks between the two of us, unsure of what to do. Except isn’t it obvious what he’s supposed to do? He’s supposed to say “no” to the attractive twenty-three-year-old woman asking him to coffee! Any idiot would know that! I’d like to tell him as much, but I don’t want Monica to see me forcing him to turn down what would probably be an entirely innocent coffee.

Probably.

“Maybe just like twenty minutes,” Sam says. “Then I really need to get back to work.”

“Wonderful!” Monica beams at him. “I know the perfect place.”

We walk out together to the lobby, then Sam and Monica go together to the coffee shop while I hail a cab. I watch them walk down the street together, getting farther and farther away from me. They seem to be standing awfully close to one another. Isn’t there some rule that you’re supposed to stand at least one foot away from someone you’re walking with? Or did I just entirely make that up?

All right, I need to stop driving myself crazy. I trust Sam. And that’s all there is to it.

Chapter 17

If I didn’t need to go back to work after this lunch, I’d definitely be getting drunk right now.

Even so, I’m sorely tempted. Shelley and I managed to sneak away to the Mexican place down the block for lunch, and this place has the best margaritas. But I’m already skating on thin ice with Denise—I can’t afford to be performing at any less than my best. Also, if she smells alcohol on my breath, it won’t be good.

“You don’t look so good, Abby,” Shelley says. “No offense.”

Shelley is the queen of the “no offense” remarks. The game is you say something super offensive, then mitigate by adding “no offense” (but not really). For example, “No offense, but that dress makes you look like you should be jumping for fish at SeaWorld.” Or, “No offense, but you look like you’re old enough to be Monica’s mother.” But this time, it’s hard to take offense.

“I don’t feel so good,” I mumble. I stare down at my Diet Coke, wishing it would magically morph into a margarita.

“But I thought things were going well.” Shelley takes a chip from our communal bowl. “Monica got pregnant on her first shot, and you said that ultrasound was normal. So… good?”