When Ava called me and said she had invitations to the opening of an exclusive night club, I didn’t think twice. Although pregnancy was uncharted territory, I wasn’t delusional—soon, my party days would be over. This event with the girls might be one of the last parties I’d attend in a long while.

We met at Ava’s place to get ready. I sat on her bed applying makeup while Isla twirled in front of a full-length mirror.

"I'm not lobster red this summer. I can’t believe I’ve got a nice tan for once.”

"Thank the modern generation of sunscreens," I said, swiping a mascara wand over my lashes. "By the way, what do you think of virgin margaritas?"

"I tried them once." Ava stepped into a short black dress and pulled it up her legs. "They're not bad."

I huffed. "As long as they're not as crappy as sex with my ex, I'm sold. I was bored yesterday, and I made a list."

Isla slipped her feet into a pair of golden sandals. "What list?"

"The orgasms he gave me versus the ones I gave myself. Guess I don't have to tell you which one was longer, and wow, Ava." I whistled as Ava giggled, smoothing her hands over the front of the tiny black dress that was bolder than anything I’d ever seen her wear. She had a beautiful toned body thanks to running—she definitely needed to show it off more. Jim was still in Paris. My wild guess was he’d receive plenty of sexy pictures tonight.

"Sexy." Isla grinned. "You too, Ivy. I know a tattooed someone who's gonna drool at your photos."

My heart stuttered before squeezing painfully. I’d convinced myself my decision to block Jay was for the best, and it was, but reminders of him filled me with inexplicable sadness.

"I blocked his number," I  blurted, pausing my mascara application.

Isla gasped. "You what? But why would you?"

Instinctively, I rubbed my stomach. "This is why,” I whispered. “I'm going to be a mom. I won't have time for nightclubs and parties, and that's what he likes. That's what we both liked. Well, that and lots of other things, but I can't lead him on when I know we don't have a future. I'd rather he thought I felt guilty and I’m happy with my boyfriend."

"He'll find out when you start showing," Ava said.

I closed the mascara and tossed it into my makeup bag. "Jim can't know, either, Ava. Okay? If Jay finds out eventually, it has to be because he ran into me somewhere, and let's be honest, the chances of that happening are close to zero. We don't move in the same circles."

"Except now we kinda do," Isla said. "Ava and Jim are dating; we'll see the guys for sure."

Shrugging, I grabbed the boldest red lipstick I owned. "I'll bow out of it. Shouldn't be that hard."

Isla eyed me skeptically while I applied it. 

A few minutes later, Ava put on her high-heeled sandals and fetched her clutch from the chair by the desk. "It's up to you, Ivy. I'm ready when you girls are."

☆☆☆

Starlight was stunning. Multicolored lights reflected off the shiny bar, and smiling waiting staff dressed in crisp white shirts and black dress pants tended to the guests in flashy designer clothes. It seemed as if they competed for the title of the most extravagantly dressed person. 

After skimming the list of cocktails, I ordered a virgin Sex on the Beach while Ava and Isla went for some champagne. Thanks to the invitations Ava had, we didn't need to pay for drinks, which was amazing because one look at the price list was enough for Isla to stare at me, wide-eyed.

We sat on a burgundy couch. I took a sip of my more-than-decent cocktail as Isla pointed at a blond guy at the bar.

"I've seen him on TV.”

He was a reality show star, and I'd already spotted a few models and actors. "The club is packed with freaking celebrities,” I said. “Too bad I blocked Tasha's number. I would've sent her a picture otherwise."

Tasha was our ex-friend obsessed with status, money, and men who had both. She tried to come between Jim and Ava, which immediately earned her a spot on my exclusive shit list. Other women’s men were always off-limits, but it was extra shitty to go after your friend’s partner.

"She might still see stuff on your Instagram." Isla giggled. "Love the new username, by the way. Like the league. It fits you."

I snorted. The girls knew Jay called me that, and although the silly nickname got on my nerves at first, I came to like it because it reminded me of Jay and his over-the-top cockiness.

I caught myself thinking about him and refocused on the music. Someone in my proximity said something about Rebellious Hearts, and barely a second later, a deep, velvety voice filled every corner of Starlight.

I knew who it belonged to—and it wasn't Jim O’Brien. Why didn't Jay mention he could sing? I listened, enraptured, greedily drinking in every word of the lyrics. 

“One night, one touch, your eyes, and I was riveted,” he sang before an instrumental bridge. The crowd went wild. It was clear the new song of Rebellious Hearts was already a success.

I wondered who inspired the lyrics while a small voice in my head whispered I already knew the answer.

***

It was four in the morning when I let myself into my apartment. My feet hurt from dancing, but it was pleasant exhaustion. I needed a break from the never-ending doubts and fears pregnancy gave me. Going out with the girls helped me relax.

“Ivy?” Mom called from her study.

I took off my sandals and went to see her.

“What are you doing up?” I said, stalling in the doorway.

Mom pointed to a chair. “Sit. You must be tired. I am too, but I needed to do some work. How was the club?”

“Great,” I said, sitting. “It felt nice to pretend nothing changed.”

Mom sighed. “My poor sweetheart. It must be overwhelming.”

I swallowed the unwelcome lump clogging my throat. “I’m doing okay. Mostly. I just…” 

Mom waited for me to speak, and although I didn't plan to, I told her about Jay, our non-date, and the song that reminded me of that night.

When I finished speaking, she clasped her hands under her chin. “Do you regret blocking his number?”

I shook my head. “It’s for the best. The timing sucks. You know dating will be the last thing on my mind for a while. What's the point in getting to know him if I can't offer him anything?”

Mom leaned back in her chair. “You're right. I'd love to tell you he won't mind even though the baby isn't his, but that's a lot for a new relationship.”

“I need to focus on the baby,” I said. “And myself. But I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t wonder whether we’d be good together.”

“Everything will work out.” Mom rose to her feet, circled the desk, and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. “You can do this, Ivy. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

The lyrics of Riveted sprang to my mind. Sighing, I relaxed in Mom’s embrace. “I’ll try.”