Daisy took a huge bite of her moussaka and moaned at how good it tasted. One thing about being pregnant: most things tasted like crap, but the stuff that tasted good tasted so good. Across from her sat her best friend Ellen, though the title of "best friend" for Daisy was probably shared equally by Ellen and Evan.

She smiled at her friend, who smiled back at her. Ellen was a tall girl, though she joked that she preferred "statuesque", and had black hair that she spent a small fortune straightening every month. Her mother, who was born in Lagos, Nigeria, and emigrated to New York as a baby, joked that Marguerite, who as far as they knew was "as white as the day is long", had curlier hair than her own daughter, who was only two generations away from her grandparents, who lived in the African desert before their urban migration to the metropolis of Lagos.

"So really, you're fine with this?" Ellen asked again as she took a huge bite of her corned beef sandwich. They were sitting in their favorite diner, having lunch. It was homey and comfortable, redolent with the smell of coffee and fried food, warm and clinky with the sounds of the other patrons.

Daisy nodded. "Totally comfortable and cool with it," she replied firmly. She ate another mouthful of the awesome moussaka. "I mean, by the time I graduate and have to tell Granny the truth, it will have been born, she'll love it as much as I do, and she won't want to kill me, right?"

"You know, maybe I'd buy the whole 'I really want this kid' routine you're selling if you didn't keep calling it 'it'," Ellen responded drily.

"Well, I don't know the gender yet, Ellen, what am I supposed to do, say he-or-she every single time I refer to it? Um, him or her?" Daisy asked, quite reasonably, she thought.

"At least you could say 'the baby', how about that?" Ellen suggested. "Or 'bundle of joy'?" She grinned.

Daisy acted like she was going to shoot water across the table through her straw, taking aim at Ellen's face. "Douchebag," she said affectionately.

"Ugly white girl," her friend responded.

"Why, why do you have to bring race into it?" Daisy asked. "Why do you go to that ugly place, like, immediately? Hm?" She shook her head.

They laughed companionably as they attacked their food.

"So what's he like? Pietro?" Ellen asked curiously. "I mean, he must be pretty interesting, a real 'fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants' kind of guy, if he agreed to do this insane thing so fast."

"Well, he's super hot, and knows it, too. Brown hair, long, dreamy jaw, really chiseled, you know? And green eyes." Daisy thought some more. "He's tall, like maybe as tall as you? So six feet, maybe a little over? Nice shoulders, fantastic shoulders, actually, and a really cute ass," she concluded, reaching for her water.

"I asked what he was like, not what he looked like," Ellen replied, exasperated. "Are you going to be shallow and superficial your entire life?"

"Hey, you notice all that shit, too, girlfriend," Daisy retorted. "Don't act all superior. I don't see you describing guys by talking about their personalities and stuff.

"Ooh, M, did you see the honesty and sense of humor on that guy?" she continued, imitating Ellen's voice. "And his sense of ethics is amazing, don't you think?"

Ellen rolled her eyes. "First of all, I don't sound anything like that," she said.

"Whatever. There's a reason we referred to your last hookup as 'the buff machine'," Daisy concluded. "To this day I don't know what his name was."

"You know, I don't either," Ellen said, considering. "Sure was good in bed, though," she said fondly.

"Anyway, I'm sure he's a perfectly nice guy. He's Evan's friend, and he was really kind and respectful to Granny," said Daisy, pushing her empty plate away.

"And you're going to move to the rooftop?" Ellen asked. "The one bedroom? How's that going to work?

Daisy shrugged. "I'm sure we'll work something out. We'll have a couch, maybe we can trade off or something."

"Trade off," her friend repeated dubiously. "Or something. Uh huh." She shook her head, which Daisy saw but chose to ignore.

They stood up and began gathering their things, and as they did so a young man of about twenty-five looked Ellen up and down and asked, "You're a tall drink of water, aren't you?" His gaze lingered on her ass. He was good-looking, but his delivery was cocky, almost slimy.

Ellen, who had heard every pick-up line in the book, rolled her eyes at Daisy before turning to the guy. "I'm six foot dead even and can bench a hundred and ten pounds. And I don't play basketball, so don't ask." She looked the guy up and down. "Definitely above your pay grade, man, so don't even try, okay?"

The two girls turned without another word and went up front to pay, risking a laugh after they were outside, on the sidewalk on Broadway.

"You should be nicer to guys, El," Daisy admonished, though she continued to laugh.

"Oh, please, I can't even count the times you shut a guy down cold, sometimes before he even finished his line," Ellen replied, waving a hand toward cocky slimy guy. "Come on, girlfriend, lets go look at used furniture for your new apartment." She hooked her arm through Daisy's and turned toward St. Vincent's Thrift, which was two blocks away. "Gonna need you a nice, big, marriage bed, right?"

"Shut up," Daisy answered, unable to quell her laugh. "The one thing I know for sure is that we're definitely not going to be sharing a bed!"

The two girls bopped down Broadway amid the turning leaves, laughing, enjoying their day, turning heads as they went.