I know, I know! I said I'd be quicker uploading but getting ready for a journey takes more time than I thought. It's short but there's another, longer chapter ready to go – just fiddling with the final couple paragraphs. It will be up within three days, promise!

With thanks to Alfonsina, Dee, JannyB and Magdalync. I absolutely depend on them to toss the rubbish back in my face and demand better of me.

Thanks for every review. They are great motivators so keep them coming.

Disclaimer as always: The characters aren't mine (with the exception of Hank and the incidentals who appear in this chapter, and Paco, and the storyline is mine, too) and I use them without permission. I make no profit from their use.

The Usual Mayhem

Chapter 21: Reality Check

Mary Lou allowed me just one lousy margarita to take the edge off and threatened to call my mother if I didn't start talking. That was below the belt. A threat like that almost broke the BFF code. Plus, I was miffed that she refused to give me the tequila bottle until after lunch. On the other hand, she managed to get Lenny and all three kids out of the house until three in the afternoon and the whole point of coming over was to spill my guts and let her play oracle.

So now Mary Lou was staring at me with her eyebrows meeting over her nose and her mouth in that little moue that meant she was going to sock it to me. "What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

She rolled her eyes. "That's a big crock of crapoli. You didn't come over here just to tell me you agreed to marry Joe but are in love with Ranger?"

"I didn't realize I was in love with him."

"You do now. And you almost did the old horizontal mambo with him last night." Mary Lou's eyes glazed over and she did that fanning herself thing with her hand. "I can't believe you let him stop."

I sighed. It was hard to concentrate. I was so nauseous it was a struggle to keep my margarita down – and seeing I wasn't getting any more until after lunch, I really needed that tequila to cope with the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to look reality in the eye.

"I told you so. I said sort out your feelings about Ranger before rushing into anything with Joe."

"Lou! You're not helping." I glared at her, but it was a poor imitation of my patented Jersey Girl glare because I felt like throwing up.

"Sorry. Couldn't help it, it's human nature to say it at least once." She looked apologetic for a nano-second. "And I'm trying to help but you got your fingers in your ears singing la-la-la! You came here for a reality check and it's my job to give it to you. I'm serious. You can't keep doing this, Steph. It's a slow descent into madness."

"I know. But Lou, I'm scared to lose him."

"Which one? You can't keep them both, like a matching pair of fuzzy dice." Mary Lou always was a smart mouth.

"You're not cutting it as Dear Abby, you know that? I don't have them both. Nothing's changed with Ranger just because I had a moment of clarity. He doesn't want a relationship with me and he's been honest about that. But Joe..." I sighed. "He's always been there, Lou. Since I was six years old. I can't just end it."

"Wait. You're going to marry Joe because you played choo-choo with him when you were six? Have you lost your mind? You didn't want to marry Eddie just because he had his hand up your Confirmation dress. You don't get married because you're used to a man; you get married because you can't breathe without him."

I didn't stay to argue. Her comment had slipped under my guard and punched me in the gut. I lurched off the couch and stumbled down the hall with my hand over my mouth.

Mary Lou's pink high tops dashed past me, squeaking on the wood floor all the way to the powder room. "Hold on! I'll get the door."

Thanks to Ella's breakfast, there was more in my stomach to heave this time. Mary Lou stood behind me to lift my hair back while I clung to the porcelain bowl, supporting me as only a best friend can. It reminded me of our misadventures in high school. I decided to forgive her for threatening to call my mother.

"Hold on, honey." She sped up the hall again, banged a couple cupboard doors and reappeared with a wet cloth and a spare toothbrush. "Here you go."

I cleaned up then put down the lid on the toilet to sit and recover while Mary Lou leaned against the doorway.

"I told you tequila before lunch was a bad idea."

"Would you stop saying 'I told you so'? Besides, it wasn't the tequila. This is the second time around today. I've been feeling nauseous for weeks."

Mary Lou stared at me, her eyes widening and looking scary-intense.

"What?" I asked.

"How many weeks, exactly? Is your period late?"

My marrow ran cold and someone must have plugged a needle into a vein and was draining me of every drop. Little black spots danced in my vision. The light-headedness made me slump sideways onto the wall next to the toilet for support.

Mary Lou knew as well as I did that my monthly cycle was precise. I could tell the date and time by the arrival of my period. Twenty nine days, cramps after dinner, every month since I was fourteen. Eyes shut, I did a rapid-fire calculation.

"Oooooh, shiiiit!" I wailed. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Don't panic. Maybe you had a virus or something. And you're real stressed."

"Lou, it's six days. I can't believe I lost track."

Mary Lou's brow wrinkled up but her mouth was set in a determined line. "Let's go upstairs. I've got a pregnancy test from a couple months ago I didn't end up using."

With an arm around me for support, she hustled me upstairs. She found the test kit in the bathroom cabinet and handed me two wrapped sticks.

"Use both of them – we want to be sure. Pee on them mid-stream, then we wait for seven minutes. I'll be next door."

My hands were shaking so badly it was hard to hold the sticks still when I peed. I joined her in the bedroom and we sat on the edge of her bed, staring silently at the two little indicator windows. I couldn't breathe. A vice squeezed my chest so tightly my heart had to pump like crazy against the constriction. Slowly, little blue lines appeared.

"Blue line. That's negative, right? It's negative. I'm not pregnant, right?" I had never wanted to flunk a test as badly as I wanted to flunk this one.

"You're not pregnant."

"Definitely?"

"The test is accurate if you're even one day overdue. Absolutely, definitely not pregnant."

I collapsed backwards onto her bed, limp with relief, with my hands over my eyes. "Thank God!"

After weeks of burying all my anxieties, this was too much. I broke down into deep, rasping sobs, gulping breaths in between. Waterworks exploded, tears dribbling down the sides of my face into my ears and onto Mary Lou's bedspread.

Nightmare visions had flashed through my mind of a pregnant me, barefoot, with a huge belly, cooking pot roast in Morelli's kitchen – Grandma Bella pointing her finger at my belly and prophesying fruitfulness – a troop of black-haired Morelli boys with clever, wicked eyes calling me mom and playing choo-choo in our detached garage with all the little girls – a small yard, clean windows, burg gossip – a programmed life of ordinary, suffocating predictability, bound hand and foot until I was old, with gray sausage curls and red leather hot pants inherited from my grandmother.

When the nuclear storm was over, I plucked tissues from the box Mary Lou handed me to wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Those seven minutes of waiting had freaked me out but they brought a cold, hard certainty.

"I'm not going to marry Joe."

Mary Lou lay down next to me, curled up on her side and supporting her head on her hand. "When are you going to tell him?"

I stared up at her ceiling. "Joe's coming home tomorrow. I'll put on my big girl panties and tell him when I take Bob over." The hollow pull of sadness tugged at my heart. "Maybe I'll go early so I can pack my stuff and clean up the house a little. It'll make it less awkward later for both of us. It's going to be hard enough for Joe without me drawing it out even more."

I plucked some more tissues to wipe my face and turned to look at her. "I don't know what to say to him. No matter what I say, it'll be bad."

"It'll be worse if you don't say anything."

"I know." I looked back up at the ceiling, sniffing. "I don't want to marry him. I don't want the kind of life he wants. He's a good man, and I'm going to miss him, but he's just...not the one. We don't fit."

"What about Ranger?"

I shook my head and blew out a deep sigh. "That's a whole 'nother flavor of Ben and Jerry's. I need to face Joe before I can even think about Ranger."

Easy to say. I sat up, my head now full of Ranger again. He's a force of nature; impossible to avoid or ignore.

"Steph, if you chew a hole in your lip you'll start that herpes rumor again."

I released my lip and looked at Mary Lou, still sniffing. "I don't think I can do it, Lou. I don't think I can have a casual, no-strings affair with Ranger. I love him; I can't be his sometimes-lover. That's all he wants but I need more. He won't give it to me. Maybe...I should step back from him."

"You're giving up both fuzzy dice now?" She shook her head. "You're making a lot of fast assumptions here, Steph. Are you sure he still feels that way? From what you said, it sounds to me like he's been making a lot of moves to get closer to you and open up – all those phone calls, and the photos. And he hates the ring! While you've got your big girl panties on, maybe you should talk to Ranger, too. Lay it all out."

I stared at her, considering Ranger's recent behavior and weighing my need to know against my fear. I replayed our last phone conversation: This is a big bed and I want you in it. And then last night: I told you what I want on the phone. How can you not know?

Nope. No hint of relationship there. Even if he was seeking more intimacy, in the end it was still limited to sex. My wants and his wants didn't match. I couldn't bear another iteration of Ranger's rejection. Then I'd have no choice but to walk away for good. I sighed at my own conclusions.

Mary Lou sat up. "Tell you what, we were going to the day spa for your birthday at the end of August. How about we do it early? If you're broke, I can make up the difference. A girls' weekend, to rest and recuperate and you can think things through."

"Really?" Our annual spa indulgence for my birthday was a highlight of the year for both of us. The prospect of escape, even if it was only temporary, was tempting but laced with guilt that I'd be running away while leaving Morelli crushed, picking up the shattered remains of his dreams. "I don't know. Do you think I should? Just run away? When would we do it?"

"We can go this weekend, if we can get a booking on short notice. Otherwise we'll make it the weekend after, now you're cancelling the housewarming."

The logistical implications of my decision to end my relationship with Morelli suddenly hit me and I groaned. I had to cancel all the invitations. I had to face my mom. Ranger had rearranged his plans for the weekend because I begged him to – I wondered if he'd be annoyed.

Morelli and I would both have to deal with the burg repercussions. The weight of guilt increased when I considered that Morelli would suffer the consequences of my decision alongside me. I should never have said yes.

And I had to call Dillon to make sure my apartment wasn't rented out! Actually, that was good news; maybe I was broke, but I was going to be independently broke.

A sudden rush of energy lifted me as the weight of dread shifted. I leaned across to hug Mary Lou. "Thanks, Lou. Let me think about it."

My stomach growled and she snorted. Mary Lou let go of me to stare down at my belly. "You think your stomach will cope with food?"

My gut still felt tender but there was no nausea. None at all. The overwhelming sensation was hunger. "Bring it on."

"Time for lunch. I'll check the fridge for leftovers while you go clean up your panda eyes."

"Lou?"

"Yeah?"

"I hope you've got cake."

TBC

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