I jog/leap over and swing open the door before she can knock again.
“Jen, hi!” My tone is a Pollyanna level of bright. “This is such a fun surprise.”
Jen is instantly suspicious. “I was meeting one of my sorority sisters for lunch and decided to take a chance. You’ve been missing in action the past couple of days.”
“Yes, sorry, work stuff. Come on in. Do you want something to drink?” My Stepford-Sister-smile remains in place as she crosses the threshold into the apartment.
“Some water would be nice.”
I’m about to head for the kitchenette when I hear Duke scuffling around inside my bedroom. “Better yet,” I say, moving back towards Jen, “why don’t we go out? There’s a restaurant a couple blocks away that has amazing water.”
I sound insane even to myself.
“What? No. I just got here, and my feet are killing me.”
“Right, sure.” I give a nervous glance to my bedroom door, moving back towards the kitchen and opening the fridge.
“Did you drink that whole bottle of wine by yourself?” I hear Jen ask.
I look over at the counter and see the empty bottle of Riesling that Ryan and I finished off last night.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Going a little strong for a weekday, aren’t you?”
I replay the events of last night over in my head. “The alcohol was necessary.” I close the refrigerator and hand her the water.
“If you say so. Just bear in mind that if this becomes an issue, I’m not visiting you at some fancy rehab facility upstate.”
“I’m not an alcoholic, Jen. Relax.”
She thankfully lets my potential substance abuse problem go and walks into the living room, plopping down onto the couch with a contented sigh. I follow after her, settling down into my reading chair.
“So...” I say, trying to think of small talk.
Jen takes a sip of water and looks back at me with a studying eye. “What’s going on with you today?”
“What do you mean?”
“Something’s weird.”
“Nothing’s weird.”
“Yeah, you’re being weird,” she says. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong. I’m perfectly fine. How are you? You still puking every morning?”
“Yes, I still have morning sickness. Stop trying to change the subject. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“You’re lying.” She places her water onto the coffee table and sits back, crossing her arms. “Are you in trouble?”
“No,” I assure her.
“Are you sick?” Tricky one. Physically no, but mentally, that’s debatable.
“Nothing is wrong with me, Jen. You’re acting crazy.”
“I’m not acting crazy. I just know you and I know you’re lying to me.”
“I’m not lying to you. I swear, I have nothing to hide.”
And this is the exact moment Duke chooses to start barking. The traitor.
“What was that?” Jen asks, her gaze now locked on my bedroom door.
“That was the neighbor’s dog.”
“It came from your apartment.” She doesn’t hesitate before standing up to investigate.
Are there legal ramifications for physically restraining a pregnant woman?
“I have thin walls. A concert pianist lives two units over and I hear him all the time. He’s still struggling with Brahms’s Rhapsody in B Minor but his Schubert is legit.”
My sister walks past me towards my bedroom. I don’t try to stop her. There’s no getting in the way of a determined Jen once she’s in motion. She opens my bedroom door and steps inside. I close my eyes and wait.
“Kara?” she asks calmly.
“Yes?”
“Why is there a humongous bulldog standing on your bed?”
I get up and join her in my room, accepting the fact that I’m sunk. “Someone left him at my doorstep in a basket this morning. I’ve decided to raise him as my own.”
“Of course you did.” She continues inspecting the room, then peeks just outside to see Ryan’s bag sitting beside the bathroom door. “And were these men’s clothes left in the basket, too?”
Duke is pacing all over my bed, desperate to jump into Jen’s arms if she would only open them to him. He’s panting uncontrollably and staring at her, trying to send the message that if she doesn’t pet him soon, life will no longer be worth living.
“The clothes are mine,” I say.
“Really? You wear men’s clothes now?”
“I lead a double life.”
“Kara!” Jen shrieks. “Just tell me the truth!”
“Fine,” I shout back. “Ryan is staying here. That is his dog and those are his clothes. He’s staying here until Cristina’s wedding is over and then he’s leaving and that’s it.”
Silence ensues.
“Wait a minute. Ryan?” she asks. “As in college Ryan?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“How did that happen?”
I look up at the ceiling before meeting her curious gaze. “I ran into him at Cristina’s pre-wedding party. He’s friends with Jason and that’s how this all got started.”
“So,” Jen says, taking everything in, “he was the guy you were talking about with me and Mom the other night? The guy you were texting?”
“Yes.”
She finally sits down on the bed and pets Duke. He drops backwards into her lap in exhausted relief. “I need to hear more. Start over and elaborate.”
Jen swings her legs onto the bed and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Duke snuggles into her, having no intention of ever leaving her side again.
I groan and belly-flop onto the bed. It takes me a good half hour to get through the entire story, beginning at Cristina’s party and ending last night.
“So you’re still not over him,” Jen says.
“Apparently not.”
“And you need him to finish your novel.”
“It would seem so.”
She nods, mulling over my confession. “What’s your next move?”
I let out a short, empty laugh. “My next move is no move. I’m remaining immobile.”
“Unacceptable. Where’s the list Maggie wrote?”
I begrudgingly get up from the bed and go over to my bedroom bookcase. I pull out my old tattered copy of The Devilish Duke and open it, finding the list folded up inside where I stashed it. I hand it to Jen and
