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“You didn’t tell me your co-worker was pregnant. What’s her name again?”
Frank was unpacking a paper bag full of groceries. About a hundred individual pieces of fruit leather for the kids, who ate at least three a day each, a bevvy of produce, a pink slab of salmon. He stopped for a second, back to her, the fridge door hanging open like a gaping maw.
“... Which co-worker?”
“You know,” Abby was annoyed immediately. It should be obvious which co-worker. His co-worker. The one he never shut up about. Which was why she’d found it odd that he hadn’t brought it up, “braid and glasses.”
“Oh,” he laughed, breathless and uncomfortable, “yeah. Mel.”
“Why didn’t you say anything about it? Is she having a baby shower? Do I need to buy something?” She scribbled in the corner of her planner, which she had spread out on the counter, looking at the days and weeks ahead. Mel. Mel, Mel, Mel. Her husband never stopped talking about Mel, so why had it never come up that Mel was having a baby?
“Uh,” There was the crinkle of paper as he folded up the brown bag to toss into the recycling bin, “I don’t know. I haven’t asked. Guys don’t ask about that stuff.”
Abby wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like this answer. She didn’t like anything about this. It was giving her a very bad feeling, “Well, she looked pretty pregnant to me. So, you should ask.”
Frank ran his hand through his hair, something he did when he was anxious. Abby catalogued the movement in a file in her brain she called: Frank Fuck-Ups.
“Where did you run into Mel?” He grabbed an apple out of the fridge and took a bite with a noisy crunch.
“I saw her at the Dollar Tree. I think she was with her sister, or something,”
“Becca.” Frank supplied, taking another greedy bite.
“Whatever. They were buying those little confetti canons. It was kind of weird, Frank,”
“What’s weird about buying confetti canons?”
Abby bristled, breathing out sharply through her nose, “It wasn’t weird that they were buying them. It was weird that the kids seemed like they knew both of them. When would they have met her?”
“Oh, y’know,” Frank wiped his mouth messily, looking anywhere but at Abby, “Mel’s good with kids. I think they met at the PTMC potluck last summer, or something.”
“I didn’t think she was married. Is she seeing someone? Is this an immaculate conception?”
“Abby,” Frank said, scolding her, “c’mon.”
“What?” Abby hissed, “It’s a normal thing to wonder! It’s not like she’s here in our kitchen!”
“It’s rude. It’s not our business.”
Abby’s cheeks burned, “Fine.”
If that was how he was going to be, she’d drop it. Surely Dana would be happy to grab coffee with her and fill her in.
“Hey,” Frank said after an uncomfortable silence.
“What?”
“What color confetti canons were they buying?”
Abby frowned, eyebrows furrowing, “I don’t know. Pink?”
Frank grinned.