Chapter 55: Chapter Fifty-Five

RAE

I learned an important lesson today. Do not, under any circumstances, go more than four days without seeing Zoe Anne Bridges. Because she’ll get really mad, and Zoe is scary when she’s mad. Really scary.

“Hey, Logan?”

He’s selecting classes for the culinary program he’s starting in the fall. I shouldn’t interrupt him.

But based on the last eight texts Zoe sent me, I’m pretty sure she’s going to murder both of us and our unborn child if my pregnant ass—her words, not mine—doesn’t show up at apartment 415 in the next fifteen minutes.

“What can I do you for, my lady?” he asks in a terrible British accent.

I snort. He’s going to embarrass the shit out of our kid someday. I love it. “Would you mind giving me a ride to my apartment?”

I technically still live with Zoe, but I haven’t spent the night there since I found out that I’m pregnant.

I’m paying rent and all that, and most of my stuff remains in my bedroom, but I’ve really had to lean on Logan these past two months.

Between all the hair-holding and my crazy mood swings, I’m definitely doing Zoe a favor by staying at Logan’s place, but she misses me. A lot.

I miss her too. A lot, a lot.

And now that morning sickness is finally a nightmare of the past, I really should stop by more often. The mood swings haven’t ceased, not even slightly, but Zoe handles my ups and downs better than anyone.

I’ve been dragging her along my emotional roller coaster since middle school.

“How’s Zoe?” Logan laughs.

“Needy.”

“We’d better get going before she commits arson to smoke you out of here,” he mutters.

Their friendship remains a work in progress. I think Logan secretly appreciates her, given how much she helped when I first found out about the pregnancy.

She came around to him a while ago, so it’s really only a matter of time.

“What’s she got planned for you two?” he asks in the car.

“No idea. Probably hang out at the apartment and order in. I haven’t seen her since Tuesday, so we have a lot of catching up to do.”

Logan laughs, but I’m serious. Three strangers have rubbed my stomach since I last saw my best friend.

As much as Logan tries to commiserate with me, nobody gets fired up about personal space violations the way Zoe Bridges does, and I’m in desperate need of a shit-talking session.

I also got a sweet new assignment I need to tell her about, ~and~ I require her wisdom to figure out what the fuck to do with Mom and Miles.

I miss her so much. I could cry.

“Rae, are you alright?”

~Oh~. I am crying.

“I love Zoe,” I sigh. Noticing Logan bite his lip, which means he’s suppressing a chuckle, I add, “You can laugh.”

He shakes his head all lovingly, and I want to cry again. “We’re here. No need to cry.”

I kiss my perfect boyfriend goodbye, half-sniffling, half-giggling, and stroll into Elmwood Square, bracing myself for the elevator.

Stairs have become more exhausting than social interaction, and I’m only four months into this ordeal.

I almost knock on my front door, but then I remember that I have a key, so I let myself into the apartment I technically live in.

Then, I collide with a wine glass full of sparkling grape juice.

“Rae-bae!” Zoe screams. Yes, screams. Not squeals. She doesn’t squeal when she sees me the way Courtney does. Zoe actually screams like I’m a ghost or an axe murderer coming to kill her.

“Zoe!” I yell back, wiping juice off the tip of my nose.

“I hope the NSA doesn’t read our texts,” she says thoughtfully. “I wasn’t actually going to burn Logan’s building to the ground.” She pokes her phone. “You hear that? It was a joke.”

“She wasn’t joking,” I tell her phone and possibly the U.S. government.

“If I go down, I’m taking you with me. Baby or not,” she warns.

“She was joking,” I tell her phone (and possibly the U.S. government).

“So,” she says in her I-have-an-announcement voice, “I made plans.”

I blink. Zoe’s not much of a planner unless it involves going to bars. She never schedules anything for the daytime. Ever.

“I know, I know. I wanted to celebrate the end of your two-month-long stomach bug, so I’m bringing you to the diner that opened up near Liberty Park.”

I narrow my eyes. This has to be a trap. She’s definitely dragging me somewhere else.

If Zoe wanted a no-more-morning-sickness celebration, she’d cook something, probably bacon, which I can finally stand the delicious smell of again.

“I’ve also been kind of cooped up. Don’t apologize—” She flashes me a warning glare when I open my mouth “—I wanted to go on a walk and talk. A walkie-talkie.”

I’d prefer to plant my ass on the couch and order takeout, but I can’t tell my best friend no. “Definitely,” I say. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a terrible roommate.”

“If you start crying, I’m going to push you in the duck pond at the park.”

“Okay,” I sniffle.

Zoe catches me up on four days’ worth of Steven news on the drive to Liberty Park, a larger, nicer version of Pioneer Park. He got promoted, which we both agree he deserves.

He’s also taking Zoe on a trip to Hawaii with his promotion bonus, which we both agree she deserves.

We decide to walk the park first, because there’s a solid chance I fall asleep immediately after breakfast-for-lunch, and Zoe really wants some fresh air.

I don’t even notice that we’ve done two laps—it’s a big park, promise—until Zoe asks if I’m going to get waffles at the diner.

~That’s~ how much we had to catch up on. I forgot about waffles. While exercising.

Zoe orders decaf with me in solidarity. The whole no-caffeine thing is quite possibly the worst part of pregnancy. I sigh. She really is the world’s greatest best friend.

I sip from the mug with closed eyes. That’s how I’ve been drinking my decaf lately. If I don’t see the beverage, I can pretend it’s caffeinated.

I’m fully aware that coffee looks exactly the same regardless of caffeine levels, but when it comes to coping mechanisms, I take what I can get these days.

“You look like you’re about to make out with the mug.”

I open my eyes. Yeah, I definitely do. My lips are brushing the edge while I inhale its intoxicating aroma. “Wow. I’ve gotten a lot less self-conscious, haven’t I?” I realize.

“Yeah, because you know you’re a badass bitch.” She winks. “And I think Logan deserves a bit of credit. Two percent, tops.”

I love her. “So do you, Zoe.”

“Rae, you’re making me blush,” she whines.

I wink aggressively. Too aggressively. I knock an eyelash loose, and it plunges into my eyeball.

A couple of months ago, I would have fled to the bathroom if my eye started twitching and watering in the middle of a diner.

Today, I dissolve into hysterics with Zoe and wink even more aggressively until it makes its way out with the tears of laughter streaming down my face.

***

“I missed you so much,” I groan in the elevator to Elmwood Square’s fourth floor. “I’m going to stay over tonight.”

Zoe clears her throat. “Rachel Jean Olson, you’re my best friend. You always will be. At this point, you’re basically family, and if I could change my last name to Olson, I probably would.

“That means I’m okay with you moving in with Logan. I’m happy you found your perfect guy.

“You know I don’t believe in that soulmate shit, but you guys are right for each other, the way we’re right for each other as best friends, you know?”

We’re both crying as we step out of the elevator.

~I know~. Zoe crying. Real tears. They only last for a few moments before she’s grinning. “Besides, I’ve kind of gotten used to having loud sex with Steven, and I really don’t think I can go back.”

“Who am I to stand in the way of—” I stop mid-sentence because… Oh. My. God.

This is not the apartment we left a couple of hours ago.

This apartment is filled with twinkling candles and—I look down—rose petals.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Hi, Rae,” Logan says softly. “Zoe let me redecorate a little. I hope you don’t mind.”

I squeak.

“Let me show you.”

The wall behind our couch is home to a world map with pins depicting every city Zoe and I have visited. My pins are bronze. Hers are silver.

None of them are on the wall right now. The map is gone, replaced by fifteen Polaroid photos.

The first shows two triangle-shaped rocks lying on the sand. The second is a sunflower. The third contains a massive tree casting a dark shadow across the grass.

The fourth is two pieces of driftwood, placed together at a right angle.

~W. I. L. L~.

I scan the rest of the pictures.

This can’t be happening.

I squeak again.

I turn around, and Logan is on one knee.

“Rae, you sparked something in me the day we met. You came into my life when my world was pure chaos. I felt like I was drowning, and then you came along, and you inspired me to swim.

“You convinced me that I’m worth it, that my life is worth enjoying. For the first time in my life, I wake up happy every morning, and that’s because I have you.

“I love every last thing about you. I love your giggle. I love the sarcastic things you say under your breath when you think no one can hear. I love the way you feel in my arms.

“I love our conversations, how we can go from arguing about tacos one moment to discussing mental health and our families the next. I love how you scoff at me when I put myself down.

“You’re the most vivacious, intelligent, compassionate, funny, kind, and beautiful woman in the world.

“I bought this ring the first week of December because I knew you were it, and I think the universe agreed, because it put our little bean inside you not long after.

“You’re the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. Rae Olson, will you marry me?”

I gasp for air as I nod. I’m incapable of speaking, but Logan understands, and he doesn’t make me tell him yes. He just slides the ring onto my finger because he knows, and he always has, and he always will.