"Or not," Millicent said. "Can you imagine? There'd be an epidemy of baby bumps. 'What, I don't need protection, I only sleep with girls.... oops'."
She walked outside with Tracey, glancing the security guards up and down. It was a hospital. Something was very wrong about this picture.
"Please," she said. "Tell me more about that and I'll need a drink to erase that particular memory from my mind."
Millicent actually didn't hate Montague. He was all right, as far as blokes went. The idea of Tracey being a divorced, single mother was a bit much, though. How was she even supposed to make that work? She was running a business, and it wasn't as if her best friend knew what the hell to do with a little red-faced thing, screaming its face off.
"Yeah," she said. "That's not exactly ideal. We're in the 21st century, though. Marriage isn't meant to last forever, unless you're pretty damn lucky. And there's daycare and all that. I'll even help you out." She paused. "I'll even promise not to drop the monster on his head more than I can possibly help."