Page 20 of Betsy
“I really don’t—”
Oh, okay. I’m touching another woman’s stomach.
Tricia had her fingers wrapped around my wrist, forcing my hand against her taut skin. Seriously, her skin felt like a rubber band ready to snap. Had to be super uncomfortable for her.
Kind of like I felt at this exact moment. A light tugging of my arm proved her grip solid. I wouldn’t get my hand back without hurting her feelings. Time to let a fetus use my palm as a soccer ball.
A hard shove against my fingers had Tricia squealing. “Did you feel that?”
She finally let go of my wrist, and I pulled my hand out of her reach.
“She’ll grow up to give Lionel Messi’s record a run for its money.”
My heart twisted, memories flooding over me and making me feel like a piece of threadbare cotton being raked over an old-timey washboard. I couldn’t help but compare Tricia’s excitement and exuberance at the life inside her with my sister’s depression when she’d been pregnant. She was better now; we were all thankful. The birth of my niece, Charlotte, had seemed to lift her out of her despair, but there had been months there when we’d all held our breath. When we weren’t vocally calling down curses on a certain poor excuse for a human, that is. But Bella should’ve had this joy that radiated from Tricia’s countenance. She’d been robbed.
And it was all my fault.
“You guys should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Dave and Asher sat across the table from me, but I pictured a third person there. Someone who deserved more than just a tongue lashing. I shook my head, trying to dislodge him from my mind. There were similarities, sure—musicians and a woman on the cusp of motherhood—but I had to remind myself the situations were also different. Otherwise, I might lunge across the table and—
It didn’t matter. There would be no lunging.
Dave’s and Asher’s eyes widened.
“Making Tricia travel and perform in her condition is completely selfish.”
“Woah. Hold on now.” Asher raised his hands, palms out. I’d seen Malachi make the same gesture to a startled horse he’d tried to calm down.
Do you think I’m not calm, Asher? I assure you, you don’t want to seenot calm.
“I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. I understood everything perfectly.
Tricia touched my shoulder. “They aren’t making me go on tour, Betsy.” She laughed a little. “In fact, they’ve all been trying to talk me out of it for months.”
Say what now? My arms fell at my side.
Tricia’s cheeks pinkened. “It’s sweet that you got so protective of me.”
Asher cocked his head. The way he studied me made it seem like he’d put on some type of x-ray vision glasses. He was peeling back the layers. Sweet? Sure, but he suspected more.
I squirmed in my seat. Where was the server with our food?
“The truth is,” Tricia continued, “I need the distraction. My husband is deployed and may not be back by the time the baby is born. I don’t want to sit at home worried about him or about having to bring this baby into the world by myself.”
“You’re not alone, Trish.” Asher smiled at her the way a brother would. “We’re your family away from family.”
Tricia dabbed at her eyes with a napkin and returned his smile with a watery one of her own.
The server approached with a tray of steaming and sizzling food. As she set down the first plate, she said, “Careful. It’s hot.”
Our meal wasn’t the only thing giving off heat. Chagrin burned in my gut. Was it possible that I had misjudged Asher? And if so, what exactly did that mean?
8
Asher
