Amber Sky by Cassia Leo

Author:Cassia Leo
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gloss Publishing LLC

Ask Me Anything

Four months earlier

Lina opened the front door of our townhouse for me. “Watch your step,” she said as I clumsily traversed the threshold.

The black console table in the foyer was piled high with Amazon packages—I tried to fill the hole in my heart with an online shopping spree a couple of days ago. The coat rack next to the table stood empty. Marc wasn’t back from the office yet. Today was supposed to be his last day as a lawyer. I thought I’d get a jump on the celebration by getting my first and only tattoo.

It took a while to find a tattoo shop that would take my business. You’re not supposed to get inked while you’re pregnant. But I finally found a little place downtown with an artist who’d loved my father’s books as a child. When I described the design I wanted tattooed on my arm, she agreed to help me out.

I didn’t expect the pain and the sight of my blood being continually wiped away to make me so queasy. I managed to hold in my vomit until the tattoo was finished, but I didn’t think I could drive myself home. When I told Lina where to pick me up, she was significantly less angry with me than I expected.

“You have to drink lots of water,” she said, guiding me toward the staircase. “I’ll take you upstairs so you can rest.”

As I climbed each step very carefully, Lina stayed right behind me. “You’re my best friend,” I said, my voice thin and raspy from the vomiting.

“Marc is your best friend,” she replied. “I’m your number two.”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t know him. We’re basically friends with benefits.”

She guided me toward the bedroom, passing the nursery on the way. “You painted the baby’s room?”

“Marc did.”

“Would a friend with benefits paint your baby’s room for you?”

I shrugged as I entered the bedroom and saw the unmade bed where Marc and I had made love this morning. “Maybe he would if he’d knocked me up.”

Lina dropped her purse on top of the gray velvet armchair in the corner. “Get under the covers. I’ll bring you a barf bowl.” She always loved ordering me around. “Are you hungry? I can order something.”

Lina couldn’t cook a pot of chicken soup if her life depended on it. But no one could order takeout or delivery as expertly as she could. Leave Lina in charge of the food for an event, and we’d end up with a sommelier and a caterer carrying a list of everyone’s food allergies and preferences. She had at least a dozen of her favorite Philly restaurants on speed dial. She’d always hated our trips to rural Pennsylvania to visit our grandmother, because there were no McDonald’s chicken nuggets nearby.

Lina, Carter, and I all had our special “needs,” which were taken care of by my father’s wealth. Lina had a live-in housekeeper who cooked all of the family’s meals. Carter had multiple rental properties across the city, which generated enough income for him and his boyfriend to travel ten months out of the year.

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