All I said, in a fleeting drunken moment of weakness, was that I needed a supermodel buried seven inches inside of me. I might've also said that I wanted to be slutted out in every language and be used until I couldn't walk. Again, a moment of my ovulation turned me into a bitch in heat but not a reason for Ramona to endorse her psychotic behaviour.

The audacity of her to hear my cries and just go out of her way to find me a companion is beyond me, an online companion, might I add. Online, on the damn internet, where creeps, stalkers and potential serial killers lurk so ominously behind the cyber curtain.

Her going out of her way to do this is more offensive than the time she booked two male escorts to my room when we were in Vegas for her bachelorette party. Alright, maybe not that terrible (of course I indulged in the thoughtful gift) but this gesture is far worse because it's so innocent and coming from a genuine place.

Ramona grins from ear to ear, she's gushing with the kind of happiness and excitement that annoys me. I intensify my glare in hopes that she chokes on her good mood.

"You can't be serious," My eyes twitch and she fans herself with a deep swoon.

"But he's so hot Bri," she shoves the phone's screen in my face and I press my lips into a firm line.

A poorly ageing white male with a deterring hairline and beer belly fills her iPhone's screen with a proud confident pride that makes me itch with discomfort.

I blink, "Define...hot."

"This," she gestures at the phone and I stare at her unamused, waiting for the punchline. "Just look at all this purebred man, it can't get any better than this."

"You're joking, right? Because if you are, this isn't funny, not in the slightest."

Ramona chortles softly, "I'm so sorry but your reaction is priceless, I just need to frame it."

"Then take a picture, why don't ya?" I mumble and she takes one.

My eyes widen, horrified and embarrassed for her, but she proceeds to giggle.

"You're so grumpy," She comments and I roll my eyes. "It's all that pent-up sexual frustration. You need a good lay, that's what you need," Ramona suggests smugly, sitting back in her chair.

"What deludes your beautiful brain into believing my libido has anything to do with this and your childish behaviour is not the initial cause for my aggravated attitude?" I cock an eyebrow and Ramona's hazel green eyes shine beneath the dim light of our favourite cafe.

"Because my childish behaviour is a once-in-a-while nag session but your frustrated libido is every single day of the year thing," she retorts with a smirk and I blink. "Every single day."

She couldn't be more wrong. My frustration comes from my job. Being a Human Rights lawyer in Los Angeles is the most mentally and physically draining job apart from the chaotic and lively entertainment industry we get a dose of daily.

Working with Refugee and Migrant Rights daily is exhausting, especially in Los Angeles. Do you have any idea how many people are living amongst us without the proper legal documentation and identification because of our government? How many families are separated because of our unjust system that actively works against them and treats them like juveniles?

Some days it feels like I'm fighting a losing battle and other days it feels like I have a chance. Unfortunately, today is one of those days, I feel like I'm fighting a losing battle.

"No, it's not and you know it's not," I pause when the waiter brings our hot croissants and macaroons. "This has everything to do with my profession."

"Yes of course, blame the job," she grins and reaches for a croissant but I spot the glimmer of sympathy in her eyes.

"There's only so much I can do, you know?" I reach for my iPad and scroll through the latest news.

"I know," she whispers.

I shake my head and glance at the screen, another actress is trending with her baby bump. Terrific.

I scroll through the recent TruCrime updates feed until I stop on the latest trend-worthy article: Law student, Khayla Owens (25), was found dead in her studio apartment after missing for 5 days. I bristle as I look at the images, another attack from Los Angeles' serial killer.

I know it's Panther because the woman's chest is carved open, her heart is gone and she has fresh rope burn marks around her ankles and wrists. Not to forget, Panther's pulverising signature detail, her vagina is clean shaven and branded with his mark. The leaping panther.

It's been five years, five years of women missing and turning up dead because of this asshole. Yes, he's methodical and OCD but how hard can it be to catch him?

My phone chimes with an incoming text that pulls me from my thoughts, I scan over it and sigh. I have an early breakfast meeting tomorrow morning regarding internships for the firm. I enjoy grooming young lawyers and turning them into cutthroat sharks. Cutthroat sharks that uphold Spencer, Willis and Dawson with pride and excellent merit.

We aren't the best immigration firm for nothing.

"Anyways back to your love life. That's not what he looks like, I have no idea what this man looks like because...it's a blind date," she shrugs and my eyes bulge.

"That's even worse, Mona!"

"Oh shush, regardless of your excuses, you do have a date with a man this evening," Ramona pipes up from her end of the table and I glance up from the meeting's agenda. "Even though we have no idea what this said man looks like."

I shake my head and take a sip of my coffee, I return it to the saucer and adjust the coaster beneath it. I reach for a napkin and dab my lips with it before I meet her gaze once again, shifting my phone to sit diagonally across the table.

"No," I say with a firm gravity to my words and Ramona notes this.

She knows by now after twenty-three years of friendship that I'm stubborn and am far from afraid to voice my blunt thoughts and say no, especially when something doesn't serve me. She'll have to drag me to that date by the teeth before I show up to it.

"Brielle," Ramona starts and leans her elbows on the table. "You are old."

I gape and she continues.

"You are ageing gracefully without a doubt, I can't tell you're thirty-two with that flawless skin," she snickers and my lips curve slightly but the irritation is still there. "However, a woman is not meant to grow old alone. No one, for that matter, is meant to grow old by themselves. Not to mention, you're gathering dust between your legs, and your vulva needs some maintenance too."

I blink and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, not giving the satisfaction of an expression.

"Your biological clock is just ticking away and begging for mercy, woman, do something!" Ramona adds with exasperation, drawing attention to our table.

"Are you done?"

"Listen here, Miss I-am-filthy-rich and don't-need-a-man," Ramona narrows her eyes in what she believes can be perceived as intimidation and I mirror her expression. "You are going on this date. For all you know, this is your soulmate, a soulmate that you are avoiding."

"There's no such thing as soulmates."

"Spare me the cynicism," she waves me off and I catch a glimpse of her silver wedding band. A beautiful personalised sapphire ring nestles her slim melanin finger.

"I'm being realistic," I reach for my coffee and take a generous sip of the dark, sugarless brew.

I am truly just being a realist. I believe in love but I don't believe in fate or soulmates. If that were true, I'd still be married and not Los Angeles' oldest most unavailable bachelorette.

"No, you're being a heartless cynic," Ramona chides. "And if you continue with your antics, you'll die alone."

I grin and bring the cup to my lips.

Ramona has good intentions but she's never been too good with her words. She tends to be blunt when she's trying to be nice and tends to be soft when she's trying to be blunt. It's an odd contrast but it works in her favour, one of the many reasons as to why she is feared.

None of those reasons include her being married to Los Angeles' tech mogul, Austen Slaters. The man behind all the advanced technical security and research labs in the city of dreams. The man who introduced the next generation of groundbreaking limitless potential within the broad expanse of security and artificial intelligence.

Slaters Tech is a multi-billion dollar company that just seems to grow larger and larger by the second. The markets are skyrocketing and it's all possible because of, Ramona Slaters, the woman who is fluent in numbers. I couldn't be more proud of her dedication and passion for her job but I wish she shared less ambition when it came to my love life.

My non-existent love life especially after Charlie. I swore off men because of him.

"Death it is," I raise my coffee.

"You seem to like the idea of dying," she mumbles and I chuckle. "I won't allow you to die, Brielle Lynn Spencer, my child needs a godmother."

I nearly miss the hint when it suddenly dawns on me I nearly choke on my coffee. Shocked, I stare at her wide-eyed. Ramona grins and continues to casually eat her croissant.

"Oh my God...you're pregnant!" I gasped, my vision swimming with unshed tears.

Wandering curious eyes land on us, and an uproar of murmurs and whispers break out regarding my not-so-subtle revelation on my best friend's behalf.

Ramona nods with a beaming smile, "A little over two months now."

"Oh my God!" My hand hovers over my mouth, a desperate attempt to lower my voice and act like a lady but I fail miserably. "That's amazing Mona! Baby, I'm so happy for you."

"Thank you," she laughs and I blink away tears.

Ramona and Austen have been trying to have kids for a little over five years now and every single time they are met with heart-wrenching failure, and all she's ever wanted is kids.

Austen however, already has two kids with his deceased wife, but he and Ramona have been trying to have one of their own and I'm so ecstatic it's finally happening. Not that the result of them not having children together caused a rift or resulted in a negative impact on their marriage but I'm still happy for me nonetheless.

The rest of the afternoon we spend it at the cafe, discussing everything about her pregnancy and her excitement as well as how Austen reacted to it. Ramona can't stop blushing and giggling in between. Is it too soon for her to be experiencing a pregnancy glow?

I don't think so.

After our lunch, I pay the bill and we go shopping. The original plan for this Saturday was to get lunch and catch up but now that I got some pregnancy and godmother news godmother, I just have to spoil her with gifts...even if we don't know the gender of the baby just yet.

"What're you even going to buy?" Ramona chuckles and looks around the baby boutique.

"I don't know, what do you want soon to be mommy?" I only adjust my purse when a huge teddy bear that decorates the entire wall on the left catches my eye.

"Wow," she gapes and I cock my head, scanning the caramel toy that is too big for its own good. "That's a no from me."

"A definite no," I chuckle and we continue down the multiple aisles.

We turn down an aisle that has toys just for mommy and daddy. All pregnancy-safe sex toys from small remote-controlled vibrators to water-based lube and scented oils.

I can't help but laugh.

"Oh, the horror," Ramona picks up a hot pink rabbit vibrator and runs a hand through her silky black hair.

"I highly doubt Austen will agree with that," I pick up an entire pack that has a lingerie set and a variety of toys inside.

"Bri...no," she gapes as I weigh options between the black and purple sets. "You're the one who needs to get laid, not me."

"We both know that's not happening," I hold the two colours up to her and raise an eyebrow. "Which one?"

Her cheeks flush but she manages to mumble, "The purple looks sexy."

"Purple it is," I nod and take it.

"Brielle," Ramona starts sternly and I sigh. "You deserve to be happy, you know that right?"

"I am happy," I affirm and she hooks our elbows together. "I have you and my fulfilling job and my endless bank account and a baby on the way, life couldn't get better."

"Yes but what about affection, protection, companionship, passio—"

"All bring drama, dishonesty and heartache," I finish her sentence and she narrows her eyes.

"Not every man is Charlie you know," she says blandly.

She doesn't know what happened between Charlie and me, no one does. She only knows what I want her to know. She's under the impression it was infidelity, but it wasn't, it was so much worse. Some days, I wonder if it wouldn't have been better if he had just cheated on me but that thought also gives me a sick feeling.

"And yet every man is capable of shattering one's soul," my lips curve timidly and she sighs. "Love makes you vulnerable and I don't have time for vulnerability."

I also get her slippers, some bath oils and salts, as well as some baby name books and pregnancy hack books before we finally leave.

We're in the car when Ramona turns to me and I glance at her from the driver's seat, the Bentley convertible purrs softly beneath me.

"I know he hurt you but that was five years ago," she starts and I stop at the red traffic light. "You have to move on and live your life, you can't allow the past to hold you back from your future. It's not fair to you."

"Life's not fair," I shrug. "And my past is not holding me back, I'm fine."

"If it isn't then go on that date tonight and give me all the details tomorrow morning," she grins and I glare at her. I'm not going to win this argument.

"You better hope for your sake that this blind date can uphold a decent conversation," I mutter and she squeals.