What happens in those five chapters? I want to know. His characters have no names; he simply calls them He and She. He does this. She does that. It’s elusive, and his male character’s use of portmanteau words makes me smile. That’s Kit. Fralad for a fried chicken salad, which the character doesn’t think is a salad at all. Smust when he’s not sure if he’s smitten or in lust. Priend for an acquaintance that thinks they’re a friend. And then I find myself searching for myself in the woman, who Kit describes as being aloof, preoccupied, and disconnected from the world around her. Was I those things? Or was I self-absorbed to think she was me? It crosses my mind that my words to him last night could have struck an idea, and the similarities could be coincidental.

I text back. What is this book going to be about?

His text bubble appears as he starts to type, then abruptly it’s gone. It starts, then it’s gone again. He’s typing things then erasing them. I strangle my phone, then slam it on the bed a few times. It’s lying facedown on the comforter, and I lift the corner to peek at the screen. There isn’t a text. I go to the kitchen for a snack, then circle my bed a few times while I spoon peanut butter into my mouth from the jar. I’m scared that he’s texted. I’m also scared that he hasn’t.

“You chicken!” I yell. I lunge for the phone, dropping the peanut butter jar on the floor.

The first text message is from Della: CALL ME NOW!

All caps. We reserve all caps for emergencies.

Kit’s text is underneath Della’s.

K: You tell me.

I don’t know what that means. Is he telling me that since I inspired the story, I have say over where it goes? I call Della.

“The test was wrong!” she screams into the phone.

It takes a minute to register what she’s talking about. The test was…

“What?!”

“I took another one. I took five. They’re all positive.”

My head is spinning. I sit on the edge of the bed and put my head between my knees. I’m waiting for my feelings to catch up to my shock. Somehow I know they’re not going to be good feelings, happy ones. Though they should be because my best friend is having a baby.

“Have you told—”

“No,” she says quickly. “I haven’t told him yet. I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” I ask dryly. “You wanted this.”

“Yeah. But it’s not like we planned it or talked about it or anything. I don’t really know what he’s going to say.”

If she doesn’t know what Kit would say, she doesn’t know Kit very well. I could picture him being surprised, taking a few hours to let it process, then he would let resignation turn to happiness. Kit is the kind of guy who shows up.

“Wow,” I say. “Everyone is having babies.” It’s a stupid thing to say, and I immediately apologize. “Sorry, I’m just in shock. And obviously not everyone is having babies … just you and Sadie.”

I bite my lip waiting to see how she’ll take that one. I keep making stupid comments, and I don’t mean to. Honestly. I’m happy for her. I think.

“It’s not the same,” she snaps.

“Of course not,” I say quickly.

“Sadie got pregnant on purpose.”

“Yeah…” My voice trails off. God, I just want this conversation to be over.

“When are you going to tell…”

“I have to go,” she says. She hangs up before I say anything else. I stare at Kit’s text for a long time, trying to decide what to do. He’s going to have a baby with my best friend, which means I can’t cut him off completely. But I have to cut off some parts. Like the part where I’m sort of into him. So maybe this texting bullshit has to stop. And sending me stories. I feel genuinely depressed about that one. And the hovering thing he does at parties and such. And—okay—I have to stop showing up at his job. I delete his texts without reading the last one. Then I delete him from my phone. I send Della a text that I know will repair what we lost in the last phone conversation. She’s easy like that.

Let’s pick out names!

Her text bubble appears almost immediately.

Daphne, she sends.

Hell no! I type back.

She gives me an lol, and just like that we’re back on track. Helena and Della. The quirky one, and the pretty one.

Kit doesn’t text me again. I check in with Della three days later to find out if she told him.

Yeah, she texts back.

Well?! What did he say?

D: He was ecstatic. Couldn’t be happier.

Right away? I’m pushing it, but I want to see how right I was about him.

D: Yes, right away.

She’s lying.

Della loses the baby. Kit calls to tell me. His voice is even and somber. I’ve never been on the phone with him before, and I wonder if he always sounds like this or if this is his grieving voice. I leave work right away and drive the two miles to their house. I know Della asked Kit to call; it’s her thing. Makes the situation bleaker when you need someone to make your calls for you. I’m not being harsh; it’s how she is. When she got her period for the first time, she made her mom call to tell me something had happened. People never really change, do they? When I arrive at 216 Trinidad Lane, her whole family is congregated in the living room. The sight of them all sitting there depresses me. It’s like a wake. Each of her family members hugs me in turn, then I am sent off to Della and Kit’s bedroom where she is lying on her bed in the dark.