There’s a kind of charm in ignoring your own problems to focus on someone else’s. It’s a lie. Obviously and one that will ultimately, in my case at least, be faced at some point.

But over the next few days I allowed the charm of my head buried in the sand to continue.

I slept over at Noah’s several times and one night he came to find me at my apartment after he’d finished while I’m asleep.

It’s a nice feeling to have him slide into my bed and cuddle me and whereas I’m in my own lie of pretending I don’t have any worries or fears creeping back in I enjoyed us. I enjoyed us a lot.

It’s only when I’m in between either being with Noah or working that my mind takes over.

I can’t help it. I seem to be a worrier. Who knew? I get it from my momma, who is so much better than me at these emotional issues. I wished I could talk to her. I even consider calling her and telling her everything but when I do I ended up asking a bunch of dumb questions about the family and her gardening and what happened on the last cookout at the fire station.

“I can pick you up,” Noah informed. His voice scratchy from sleep. He didn’t get home until nearly dawn and while he slept I crawled out of his bed, drank two mint teas, grabbed my ginger flavored lollipops and went across town to a bakery who wanted an overhaul doing on their computers with a comprehensive new filing system for the input and output of stock setting up.

It was straight forward work.

The unconcerned tone in his otherwise sleep-heavy voice meant Noah had no idea I’ve been in my own head for days.

I kept going back to that look Gabriel gave us in the restaurant.

Like the biggest shock of his life was seeing Noah with a woman.

Noah probably could have cut up a waiter with a butter knife and it wouldn’t have elicited more shock than it did seeing him kiss me.

I can’t stop thinking about his stunned expression.

Why the fuck am I obsessing over the opinion of a man I don’t even know?

I hefted my bag onto my shoulder and jaywalked across the street to where I’m meeting India for lunch. “I’m good to get home later, Noah. I thought you had that meeting in a few hours?”

About the restaurant with Tom the dick of all douches.

“I can still come for you. You shouldn’t be out in the cold.”

His sweetness buzzed my insides and still I found myself inexplicably snappy. “I’m a big girl,” I’m a block away from the café. I’m in coffee withdrawal. When someone knocked my shoulder, I growled instead of my usual smile.

“Sena…”

He meant he doesn’t want his baby out in the cold. The same baby I keep forgetting existed, if not for all the throwing up I probably would.

Some baby incubator I’m making.

I sighed. “I’ll be fine. I promise. Go buy restaurants, lion. I’ll see you later, okay?”

I can tell he wanted to say things by the length of silence he leaves it before telling me okay and to be safe.

Fuck this day. I’m going to have chocolate for lunch. Surely pregnant women can have all the calories. I’m going to get fat anyway.

It can’t only be me that's going through existential calamity in this world.

Of course not. Their shit is real, there's real troubles going on and here I am on selfish island of one emotionally drained woman.

It’s not as though I don't care, I do.

I give to charities, I volunteer, albeit usually when I'm back home in Beaufort. Never here, I realize. The city is too big and too self-absorbed. It’s a giant pulse of selfishness. For a city that never sleeps it only truly shows its care when a disaster happens. It all soon fizzles out once the media leave, when life gets back to normal. We all go back to our own selfish islands to obsess over trivial things that don’t matter in the grand scheme and yet we are consumed.

I’m absorbed in my own head.

I spotted a homeless man a few minutes later and once I’ve safely guided myself across the street I met him with a smile as he sat on his row of cardboard wearing two coats and a raggedy torn hat.

I smiled again and handed him forty bucks. He gave me a grin and told me thank you. I hoped he bought food.

It should make me feel better. That’s why we give isn't it? The real charitable truth, to make us feel better about our self-centred ways so we can check some invisible box and get back to our self-absorbed lives.

I’m still thinking about it when I enter Little Dollies café.

I take a tentative sniff of the air. Checking if I’m good with the food scents.

I smell caffeine right away.

I chose a table the furthest point away from the counter just on the safe side while I finished my hard lemon candy.

“I’d like to say you’re glowing, mama. But you look like you’ve been sleeping under a bridge with trolls. What gives? Your hubby not taking care of his baby-mama?” Asked India once she joined me and we each ordered a pink lemonade and a diet cola.

A snort left my mouth. India was never one to pull her punches.

Having come right from the office she's still in her work clothes. A gorgeous pin stripe knee length skirt, with a fitted red blouse to match both lips and nails and her blonde hair, a shade darker than ice white is in messy waves hanging loose around her shoulders. She's so delicately put together on her small frame I felt a touch trollish in her shadow.

“Noah is fine.”

She flipped me that don’t bullshit me glance.

“Really. Everything is good. Let’s order and we can catch up.”

We ordered sandwiches and chocolate drizzled scones. I told her most of everything since I last saw her, leaving out my stupid uncertainties. There’s no point in sharing those when they don’t make sense even to me. I don’t want to sound senile. Noah doesn’t give me cause for concern. This is all on me.

“And what about my godchild. How is she?”

Shit. Again, the first topic of conversation on my mind is not the baby. Seriously. How shitty of a parent am I going to be? I have big worries about that now. “That’s going fine, too. Besides throwing up. Noah has the nursey started with an interior designer coming out soon to size up one of the spare bedrooms in his penthouse.”

Her perfectly shaped brows curved with intrigue. We’re both wolfing down the food. “So, you’re moving into the shag-pad? That’s official, my southern beauty. I think I like your hubby’s style.”

“Noooo.” I insisted. “Well. We haven’t discussed it. But we’re in the same building, so it doesn’t matter, right?”

Does it?

It’s only in the last couple of days once we decided to tell our parents I’m pregnant since I’m heading towards my second trimester that he mentioned about the nursey.

I hadn’t given it a thought until then if we’d live together.

“Girl, you need to lock that down.”

I hastily changed the subject when the scones are brought to the table with sweet honey butter for slathering. It’s just like home and I eat three in quick succession.

“What about you? Any dates lately?”

She sighed like she hated life then she half grinned. “I swear all the decent men have vacated the building. This guy at work, he’s in marketing, a real Ryan Reynolds type. I thought there was something there. I saw him a few times. He was no Casanova in the sheets, let me tell you, he was more of a taker than a giver. But he made me laugh.” I showed my amusement while biting into a fluffy pastry. God. Everything tasted so good again now I could eat and enjoy.

“So, he got kicked to the curb. I have no time to teach a man how to work my body and helllooooo…. who is that tall drink of water staring over here at you, Sena?”

I swerved to where both her eyeline and saucy smile landed intently to see Gray Ellison entering the café with a briefcase in one hand and his specs in another.

I smiled and waved.

“Holy shit, you know this guy?” She whispered sitting up straighter.

“I do some computer work for him.” Gray returned both smile and wave with the hand holding his specs which he then hooked into the top of his V-neck sweater.

India shamelessly ogled the older guy while he waited in line.

“Invite him over.” She hissed kicking me under the table.

“What? And ouch!”

“Invite. The. Gorgeous. Man. Over. Sena.” She enunciated, obviously thinking I’m slow. Beneath my chuckle, I waited for Gray to look our way again before I waved him over.

“Hello, Sena. Good to see you.”

“Hi. If you’re eating in, do you want to sit with us? This is my good friend India. India this is Gray.”

I observed their quick eyeing of each other, spectacularly unapologetic. It was like watching two jungle cats eyeing up an opponent. The air became syrupy rich suddenly as Gray twitched the side of his mouth with a smile and pulled up a seat closest to India.

Interesting.

“I’d love to, thanks. I was just grabbing a bite before a meeting.”

“And what is it you do, Gray?” Inquired my friend who was giving my sometimes-client the seductive once over in a slow peruse of her gaze.

I admit Gray was something to look at.

He’s just never stirred me.

“Hello, friend India.” His steady slate colored gaze was penetrating.

There’s no other word for it. Even I felt it, so I don’t know how India was not reacting.

But she’s always been a ball buster with men she’s attracted to.

She doesn’t always show it right away even if she’s outwardly flirting.

Flirting is her friendly default.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he offered his hand and when they touch it’s longer than a handshake should last for and I saw Gray run his thumb against her knuckles. “I’m in boring sales.” He informed with a rogue grin and a shrug.

He sipped his espresso. Watching India.

“Don’t let him fool you. His place is amazing. We’ve both shopped at some of his online stores. Remember those boots last winter? You got the beige I got the pink.” I nodded towards Gray, dressed in a white T-shirt underneath the V-neck light gray sweater and worn denim jeans. He’s casual and yet looked effortlessly styled with his sweep of ink black hair like he just rolled out of bed with his designer stubble. “You were pissed you couldn’t get the Casadei rose gold pumps because they were sold out.”

India’s green eyes lit up and she nibbled on a corner of her mouth.

“I remember. That’s your website?”

She named it and Gray inclined his head modestly.

He’s being un-showy. I like that.

It’s nauseating when a person runs their wealth into a conversation.

Since I know how many online shopping sites he does own. The man’s net worth must run into the tens of millions.

“We sold out of the Casadei’s in under twenty minutes if I recall.”

India growled. “I’m still bitter.”

Gray chuckled, holding India’s eyes. I suddenly felt like a third wheel. A third wheel who was finishing off the scones with a sweep of my knife through the honey butter.

“My apologies. Maybe I can make it up to you. What size shoe are you?”

Offering a woman, a pair of shoes! It’s like he just offered himself on a silver platter. I waited for India to exclaim or declare she’ll have his babies. If there’s one thing I know about my friend, she is a shoe whore. What woman isn’t?

But India didn’t do what I expected. In fact, she scrutinized Gray as he continued to sip on his espresso with the kind of shrewd gaze that would normally frighten away a man. Too fearful of the challenge that is India. She’s brash and loud and I adore her to death.

Gray, however just smiled a little and awaited her answer.

I’m too invested in this conversation to even go to the bathroom which my bladder is screaming out for.

“You sound just like a sugar daddy.” She laughed lightly, tapping her red nails on the table. “Are you looking for a sugar baby, Gray?” India’s voice so soft and sultry as a chocolate dipped strawberry. I bit back my grin.

“I don’t know,” he replied instantly in the same amused tone.

With the most intense stare I’ve seen on him.

He’s eye-fucking India without shame or care if anyone else is watching this show. It’s attraction at its first stages.

“Are you looking for someone to take care of you?”

Ohmigod. What am I watching? The way he said even made my belly clutch. My heart rate increased with a fit of giggles I daren’t let out for fear I’ll ruin whatever sexy mood they’ve created with a few choice words.

It’s live verbal porn. Or at least, low level flirting. I nudged her leg under the table. She ignored me to eye-fuck Gray.

India sat back in her chair, pushing her breasts out in the silk blouse. Gray’s eyes flickered down to her chest but didn’t linger, he goes right back to her face. And that’s when I see it. India’s smile faltered, and she broke the eye contact first in favor of fussing with her hair.

She’s nervous.

I never see her nervous around anyone.

She’s always been my confident spirit animal.

She hummed a little and looked on from under her lowered lashes. “You never know with the state of the economy, right?”

Gray chuckled and agreed. The tension broke.

We go to safer, mundane topics of conversation.

At one point I don’t know what I find more delicious; the plate of donut balls I ordered or the powerful flirting words firing across our table.