Like dominoes, one by one, every person at our table craned their neck to see her. As though she knew she was being watched, Catherine turned toward us. When she landed on me, her eyes widened in outright alarm.
Elise raised her hand, beckoning her over. “Hi, Catherine!”
When our mother died, I’d dropped out of Stanford so I could return home and become Elise’s guardian, and I’d never once regretted it until now. If Elise had had to tough it out in a group home or something, she wouldn’t have been so goddamn friendly.
Catherine stopped on the other side of the fence, which only came up to the middle of her thighs. “Hello, everyone. Fancy seeing you here.”
Elise hopped up, glancing around at the surrounding tables. “We were just talking about you. Come join us. Surely we can find another chair.”
Miles pushed away from the table. “It’s cool. I can stand. It helps digestion anyway. And everyone knows pancakes are easier to eat while standing.”
Catherine waved them both off, giggling softly. “No, I couldn’t possibly. All of you look so nice, and I look like a complete slob. I don’t want to drag you guys down.” Her cheeks were flushed, and she avoided looking at me. She’d done a lot of that the last few weeks. Avoidance was her art form.
“Are you kidding me? You look adorable,” Elise cooed. “Please, come sit with us.”
Catherine held up a shopping bag. “I’m just on my way home and have my hands full, so I’d better go. Thank you, though.”
Catherine continued on her way, though she wasn’t moving fast, which made sense given the size of her belly. It had gone from a subtle swell to having its own gravitational pull. Sometimes, I debated asking her if there were twins in there, but I wasn’t stupid enough to let that question leave my mouth. I’d already stuck my foot in it enough times.
Unexpected disappointment gnawed at me as she made her way down the sidewalk. The way she’d called herself a slob while avoiding eye contact with me stuck in my mind.
I stood, throwing my napkin on the table. “Excuse me. I have to speak to her. I’ll be right back.”
By the time I caught up with her, Catherine was at the corner. She watched me approach with wary eyes, her bag clutched in front of her like a shield.
“Come back. Elise will skin me alive if I let you leave.” I stopped in front of her, peering down at her. I always forgot how short she was since she didn’t seem short. Then again, this was the first time I had seen her outside a work environment. She was normally pressed and pristine, with neat hair and simple, classic clothing. Today, her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy, unruly bun, and she was cozy in a hoodie and leggings.
“Please tell her I already ate.” She tugged at her hoodie, which was oversized everywhere except where it stretched over her belly. “I really feel way too schlubby to go to a restaurant, and all of you—”
“You look nice. No one’s going to judge you for wearing a hoodie when you’re thirty-seven weeks—”
“Wait, you know how many weeks I am?” Her brow knitted in confusion.
“Of course. You told me five weeks ago. Five plus thirty-two equals thirty-seven. It isn’t difficult.”
“Oh.”
She blinked, and it was then I really noticed how tired she looked. Maybe she wore makeup to work to disguise the dark circles beneath her eyes and she wasn’t now, or maybe she’d had a bad night. Either way, she looked like she needed rest. And soon.
“Please, come,” I urged, uneasy with keeping her standing here longer than necessary.
She shook her head. “No, I honestly wouldn’t be comfortable.”
I cocked my head. “Is this my fault? Because I made one comment about your clothes?”
I’d known right away I had hurt her feelings, but it hadn’t been intentional. She’d appeared uncomfortable in her dress that had barely fit over her bump. Seeing her yank and tug at her dress had been like nails on a chalkboard to me. I’d wanted her to remedy it so I didn’t become consumed with her comfort when I had ten thousand other things I had to deal with.
“It’s nothing like that.” She blinked again, slower this time. “I’m going to go. I’ll see you Monday. Have a nice brunch with your friends, Elliot.”
“Wait. One more thing, then I’ll let you go.”
She lowered her chin into the fabric of her sweatshirt, waiting for me to proceed.
“Girl or boy?” I nodded toward her middle.