Page 88 of The Friend Zone

“Who are you dating?” She cocked her head to the side.

I rubbed mud on my arms, watching it smear over my skin so I wouldn’t have to look at her. “I went on that one date with Tyler,” I said lamely.

She scoffed. “That’s what I thought. What if he’s having sex with these other women? Doesn’t that bother you?”

The very suggestion of it felt like she’d reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. Yeah, it bothered me. I tried not to think about it. Josh would have sex with other women, and one day he’d have babies with one of them. And that was just the way it was.

I shrugged. “He’s single, so he can do what he wants.”

“Hmm. And so why don’t you do it too, then?”

She knew why I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be with another man. I didn’t want anyone else.

I stuck my finger in the pile of red mud on the pedestal. “I won’t be having sex with anyone else until after the hysterectomy.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked, eyeing my stomach.

I wore a T-shirt over my bathing suit to cover my belly. Even though it could be mistaken for a large lunch, I was too self-conscious about it. I knew what it was. And if even one person asked me when I was due, I would lose my shit.

“Well, the IUD kicked in. The doctor said it would take a few months to start helping with the bleeding, and I finally see the difference. It’s been huge, actually. I only spot now.”

Her smile was extra dazzling under the red clay on her cheeks. “Really? Could you live like this? Maybe put off the surgery?”

I shook my head. “No, I can’t live like this. I’m still bleeding almost daily, the cramps are horrible, and I look three months pregnant. Look.” I pulled my T-shirt tight around my waist and showed her my distended stomach.

She looked mournfully at my belly.

I think of everything, my swollen stomach was what made her get this. She had a beautiful hourglass figure, and what my uterus was doing to mine was her nightmare.

“I’m so sick of this being my normal, Sloan.” I let the shirt drop. “Every day of my life for the last twelve years, this uterus has made me miserable. It’s never done anything for me but give me grief, and it never will.”

It occurred to me that pain was literally a daily part of my world. I took it for granted. I lived with it like someone learns to live with background noise. And I was done doing it.

My doctor had suggested writing a thank-you letter to my uterus before the surgery. To give me closure, he said.

Fuck my uterus.

I had nothing to thank it for. It had ruined my life a thousand times over in a thousand different ways. Every time I bled through my pants in public or vomited from the pain. All the times it stole my energy and robbed me of milestones and opportunities. It ruined relationships and vacations, special moments and dreams.

And it wasn’t done. It would never be done taking from me. When it was gone, it would still take.

She sighed. “How do you intend to explain the surgery to Josh? I mean, the man works in your garage. He’s going to know.”

I looked away from her at the palm trees and birds-of-paradise that lined the mud pool. I did have a plan. I’d given it a lot of thought over the last two weeks.

“I’m going to fire him and break things off the day after your wedding.”

Her eyes flew wide. “What?”

“I was going to end it after that night at karaoke. But then I realized if I did it before the wedding, it might make things weird, and I didn’t want to ruin your special day.”

With the wedding coming up, the four of us were going to be thrown together. Big-time. I couldn’t vouch for how Josh would feel about the end of our arrangement, but I knew I’d have a hard time pretending to be happy once we were done, and Sloan would definitely pick up on that. There was no way that wouldn’t affect her.

So why make things awkward or tense? What was one and a half more weeks? I’d just stick to my rules, like I always did—when I wasn’t drunk—and it would be fine. It was just eleven days.

I looked at Sloan. “I figured we’d get through the wedding and then I’ll tell him I can’t see him anymore. I’m already putting out ads for carpenters. I need to find someone else anyway. He’s been gone for two weeks, and I had to put my stairs on back order.”

She sighed. “Oh, Kristen.”