It's a stupid party that CeCe has to go to for some sort of, um, show premiere thing. She doesn't really want to go, but Sarah's trying to make her all, still out there, and proud and happy and stuff, about what's happening now that the whole world knows about it. It's for a movie—um, a Disney movie, or no—it's an action? She doesn't know, she didn't actually go to the showing, she had a doctors' appointment that took longer than it was supposed to because the doctor wanted to take her blood and run some sort of test, or whatever.
She's dressed in a green dress that has an elastic waist that Sarah bought—and she can't decide whether she's annoyed or thankful, because it's comfortable, but, elastic waisted clothes, oh my Gosh, really?—and it really doesn't show to much of her stomach (because she'd refused to do that, no, no, no way). People flash their cameras at her when she gets out of her car, and she smiles awkwardly as she walks through the red carpet area. Everyone yells at her to stop and pose for a picture, and then more and more questions are asked—some about the show, but mostly about the baby, and over and over again Who's the other father, CeCe?
She smiles and shakes her head and says, "I can't, um, answer that question."
She hasn't told Gunther, or her family, or her manager. She's not going to tell some random reporter either.
The thing is though; she wasn't expecting Gunther to be at the party. She sees him the minute she walks in the room, because, well, he and Ty aren't exactly, um, difficult to spot. She kind of ducks out of the way and tries to find somebody else she knows. She hasn't talked to Gunther in a week, not since that phone call, when he had tried to figure out what was going on. Since he called to find out if he was a father and you lied to him, CeCe thinks, and cringes.
Tinka yells at her from a few people down through the room, and CeCe sinks into a chair at her table with relief. She's smiling and asks things like Is it a boy or a girl? and When's the due date?, but it's way better than Is it— and CeCe answering Don't worry, it's not yours.
She's not sure what the point of the party is, really. There's an actor from the show there who comes over to talk to her for a few minutes, and CeCe has to pretend she loved his character, but cuts the conversation short when she sees Gunther looking at her through a few groups of other people. He has—he has an expression on his face that CeCs doesn't really know how to describe. Maybe—hurt? Or maybe even mad. Or possibly confused? Or she might just be freaking out because she doesn't know how she feels around him.
We were never dating, she thinks, walking quickly towards the building's exit. They were never dating, it was all just casual—so casual they never talked about it except when it was actually happening. But now she's carrying Gunther's baby. It shouldn't matter—for Gunther, that is, because CeCe has no intentions of telling him it's his. So their relationship shouldn't be changing at all, except that they're not going to, um, have sex anymore.
But everything is off. It's awkward and confused and—and she's not watching where she's going. Somebody spilled something on the floor near the exit, and it's red and sticky. CeCe slips before she realizes it's there.
She's expecting to fall on the tiled floor, hard, and instinctively pushes an arm out so that she doesn't land on her abdomen, except she doesn't hit the ground at all, Gunther catches her, grabbing her around the upper waist and holding tight, carrying all of her weight.
CeCe breathes out a long sigh, and when she gets her balance back, pulls away from him and turns around to say, "Hey, Gunther."
He looks at her for a second, before he smiles. It's not his regular big smile, CeCe can't help but notice, but it's still—he's still smiling. "CeCe. Come on, sit down a minute." His eyes slip down to her stomach, and she wants to cover herself up. She barely manages to hold back, folding her hands into fists at her side.
"Yeah," she says, and they end up sitting down at a nearby table.
CeCe isn't sure how they end up talking for two hours, but it's probably because Gunther jumps into talking about his clothing business, and then CeCe's dancing, and it's the first time in what feels like months that she hasn't been talking about the baby. And—she's missed him. She likes Gunther, he's one of her best friends. It's nice to just sit and talk to him, and not be afraid of it somehow turning into sex or Gunther finding out the truth.
She's laughing at one of Gunther's stupid jokes when she leans back, and not thinking about it, isn't folding her arms across her stomach. She doesn't notice until Gunther chokes off his laugh, and CeCs follows his gaze down to where her dress is stretching across her stomach from the way she's sitting. She sits up immediately, and bites her lip, because it—it looks awful, like she's hiding a ball under her shirt, and she's just—she doesn't mind not being attractive, she doesn't think she really is anymore, but—
This is Gunther, and he's seen her naked, sweaty and gripping him as they move together under sheets, and this is—CeCe doesn't want him to see her like this, gross and bloated and fat. It's stupid. She doesn't—she can't have sex with him anymore, why should she care if he doesn't think she's—if Gunther doesn't want to? Stupid—stupid pregnancy hormones, this is their fault, it has to be.
"CeCe," he says, quietly. He bites his bottom lip. "How is—" He breaks off, takes a deep breath. "How's the baby? I mean—I've heard—"
"She can hear you," CeCe blurts out, a little kick in her low abdomen suddenly reminding her. "Talking about her, I mean. She can—do you want to—" Scouring up her courage, CeCe reaches out takes Gunther's hand, and pulls it up against her belly, over the dress. She stretches her hand over the top of it, and it only takes a moment before Gunther's eyes widen and he jerks back. He puts his hand back right away though, and leans forward.
"Jesus Christ, she's kicking already? That's—" he looks at CeCe, who smiles back softly, heart beating fast. "—that's incredible, CeCe."
"I—do you remember, um, a while ago? I called you, like, in the middle of the night freaking out?"
Gunther smiles. "Yeah."
"That was the first time she kicked," CeCe admits.
Gunther's grip tightens a little, but it's more comforting than anything else. She contemplates right then, just for a moment, telling him everything—that the baby is his. She doesn't though, just smiles instead.
Later, when Gunther takes his hand back and stands up, CeCe can barely stop herself from reaching out and grabbing him, pulling him back close, wanting him to stay there. She does manage it though, and they wave before separating ways, going home.
The interviewer—a man CeCe's been interviewed by before, and he's really nice—keeps saying weird things. Like So, Nolan Paul was kicked off of the show a few months ago, and Didn't you go to a Ty Blue concert about seven months ago? with like, he's all, winking, and stuff, and oh my Gosh, he's totally implying things, and CeCe is the worst at answering things like that.
"Um—" she says, a lot, and "No, actually—" and more of "Oh my Gosh, no," than she thinks she's ever said in one sitting ever before. Like, in her entire life.
Eventually—thank goodness—they get around to talking about David's career, and she gets to say that her position has been temporarily replaced, but will definitely still be there when she is ready, it'll just be a little different—shorter, and her Mom is going to help with the baby.
She totally shouldn't have figured that was it on the baby talk. That's never it on the baby talk.
"So we saw you—and by we, I mean some guy with a camera who needs to get a life, he's totally not employed by us—that you were hanging out pretty close with designer Gunther Hessenheffer at the Double Weapon Flight premiere last week."
He winks again. CeCe is kind of hoping it's like, a medical condition, or something.
"Um, yeah," she says, slowly. "Gunther's still a good friend of mine, and he's a great guy. We just ran into each other, so we decided to, kind of, just catch up a little? Nothing, like, suspicious or whatever."
"So he's not the Dad either?" He actually looks a little dejected now, like Gunther was his secret card or something.
CeCe frowns. "No, um—no, he's—but he's going to be an awesome Uncle, if that makes you feel any better?"
The interviewer pauses, and then nods. "Slightly. But just because you're adorable and pregnant."
CeCe throws her hands up, and goes, "Oh my Gosh, don't say that," and then even the lady behind the camera laughs, and it's like, a total lost cause. It's not the worst interview ever, but it sort of feels like it at the moment. (She totally doesn't let the guy touch her stomach when he asks a minute later.)
CeCe is tapping her feet against the couch's arm, fidgeting constantly. Her phone is hooked under her ear, and for some reason, she's been talking to Gu for three hours. The baby's kicks are kind of—it's like there's no rhythm to them at all, and they're completely random. CeCe's thinking a soccer player maybe, but definitely not a musician. She says so to Gunther too, kind of like—grumbling, and complaining. She shouldn't complain so much, and she generally tries not to, it's just, Gunther is so nice. And he doesn't mind when she complains, or gets annoyed, and needs to throw pillows and groan and cross her arms while pouting for an hour.
The mood swings are a full-time job, is what her mom said, when she'd asked her. Gunther just chuckles and smiles and makes really awful jokes that shouldn't be funny but end up being hilarious at two in the morning when CeCe's taken the new medication the doctor gave her, and—really, it's just, Gunther is really easy to talk to.
It started a few days after the movie premiere, when Gunther texted her at like, eleven, and was all, "Cinderella or Winnie the Pooh?" and CeCe called back to go, "What?" because she couldn't sleep anyway (she'd even tried warm milk, but the baby is like, nocturnal or something). And then she found out Gunther was totally Christmas Shopping for the baby, like, what. (And he had totally let her think he was shopping out, like, real, not at home on the computer because he was bored or whatever, and CeCe had flailed and said, "Gunther, Christmas is a month away, why are you midnight shopping!" before he finally told her the truth.)
She's not sure how smart that is, actually, but—biology aside, Gunther is her best friend in Chicago. Why should that change just because of a baby?