Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Suzie
The heat of the furnace in front of me grounds me in a way few things in life do. I watch as one of the apprentices handles the punty with the heavy ball of glass, bringing it over to the workbench so I can do my bit. When I shared about my pregnancy with Bobby he insisted that I stop doing the heavy work.
At first, it was hard letting go, especially as I'm just starting in my career, but after a few days, I started seeing it as a great opportunity for me to pass the little knowledge I have to someone who is where I was only a few years ago. Fuck it, only a few months ago.
With the heavy-duty, fire-resistant gloves on, I use a set of paddles to shape the large ball of glass, and the apprentice—Ryan, I think—starts twirling the punty at a fast speed. With a sense of awe that never seems to go away, I watch as a large disc slowly forms.
As it twirls, I use the gloves and another flat paddle to guide the disc into the shape I want.
Once we're done and Ryan rushes the piece away to slowly cool down I grab a large bottle of water from one of the many mini fridges lining the back wall of the large shop floor.
Now that there's a lull in the work all my thoughts and emotions come rushing back, but I push it down, refusing to give in to the heartache.
It's been two days since I kicked Pete and Dexter out of my life, and I'm no closer to any kind of resolution or way to handle telling them.
I also haven't received a single fucking message or call from either of them. Obviously, it was easy enough for them to leave me behind.
The bitter heartbreak sits uncomfortably on my chest, especially here in the large space used to create masterpieces.
I shake off the dark thoughts and finish off the water bottle, but before I can throw away the empty plastic bottle, a young, cute girl comes rushing to me.
"You Suzie?" she asks, her eyes alight with joy and excitement.
"Yeah. What's up?" I’m not interested in pleasantries at the moment. I think I've seen her manning one of the counters in the gift shop. But for the life of me, I can't remember if anyone told me what her name is.
"There's a delivery for you. But I can't bring it down here...." She looks around the floor before turning her beaming smile back at me. "It's in the staff room. When you see it, you'll understand."
Ryan still isn't back from the break I'd sent him on, so I might as well go see what the huge fuss is about.
I follow the peppy shop assistant to the staff room and stop short when I see it.
An enormous basket filled with all sorts of chocolate treats.
Fucking Pete.
No one knows my sweet tooth better than him.
I stare at the basket, torn between irritation and something dangerously close to giddiness. My fingers twitch at my sides, itching to dig through the glossy wrapping and unearth every decadent treat inside.
For a moment I just stand there, glaring at it.
"Do you like it? Who sent it to you?" the shop assistant asks, her eyes wide with excitement. She doesn't wait for an answer before adding, "I thought it was the most romantic thing I've ever seen! I wish someone would send me a chocolate bouquet like that."
I force a smile and mutter something noncommittal, brushing past her toward the basket. My hands hover above it before I finally grab the card tucked into the side.
Babygirl,
A pretty blonde girl once told me chocolate fixes everything.
I know it might not really fix a broken heart, but maybe it can help heal a few hurts.
We're not going anywhere.
xoxo
P & D
The note is simple, Pete's handwriting messy but familiar. It makes my chest ache. Anger bubbles beneath the surface, a weak attempt to shield myself from the pain threatening to crack me wide open.
I crumple the note in my hand and toss it into the trash, ignoring the way my heart screams at the betrayal of such an act.
The basket itself I can't bring myself to abandon. Instead, I heft it into my arms, muttering a quick 'thanks' to the young girl before heading to my locker to put it away.
The rest of the day drags on. The heat of the furnaces and the rhythm of shaping molten glass offer some reprieve, but my mind keeps drifting back to the basket and what it means.
They didn't leave.
They're still here.
When I finally leave the studio and make my way home, the sight that greets me on my doorstep stops me dead in my tracks.
A large bouquet. Not just any bouquet. A towering, fragrant arrangement of flowers in every shade imaginable. Roses, lilies, daisies—blooms that should be impossible to get this time of year. They're almost too perfect to be real.
There's another card tucked into the center.
Sunshine,
As brilliant as these flowers might be, they don't come close to how beautiful and stunning you are.
We miss you.
D & P
My fingers tighten around the card, and I clench my jaw against the wave of emotion that threatens to drown me. How dare they?
How dare they act like this, sending me thoughtful gifts and sweet words, when they know exactly why I pushed them away.
And dammit, no matter how unreasonable it is, I feel even more angry that they're breaking through my defenses, especially when I'm most determined to keep them up.
But as I carry the damn flowers inside, carefully arranging them in the only vase big enough to hold them, I know the truth.
I miss them too.
Over the next few days, the gifts keep coming. Small things, carefully chosen, each designed to chip away at the walls I've carefully built around my heart the last two years. Along with the gifts come the carefully crafted notes that do even more damage than the gifts themself.
At first, it's a set of hand-painted glass charms, with a promise that my charms were still more impressive. The day after, it's a beautifully bound notebook with a leather cover, embossed with an intricate design of swirling flames with a note urging me to share my thoughts with the notebook if I wasn't ready to share them with Pete and Dexter yet.
By the third night, I'm curled up on the couch, video chatting with Annie. She's lounging in her usual spot on the gigantic bed she shares with my dads, who thankfully, are both working late. Annie's face is split into a wide grin as I recount the latest delivery—a tiny stuffed bear clutching a heart-shaped pendant engraved with the words ‘ You are our heart’.
"Oh my goodness!" Annie laughs, clutching her stomach. "You get what's happening here, right? They're courting you, Suzie! This is like some Jane-Austen-level pining. They're probably off somewhere plotting their next move while writing broody poetry about you."
I roll my eyes, though I can't suppress the small smile tugging at my lips. "It's not funny, Annie."
"It's hilarious," she says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. "You've got two ridiculously hot guys who clearly worship the ground you walk on, and you're over here acting like it’s some kind of inconvenience."
"Annie," I say, my tone a warning. "If I remember correctly... not that long ago, you hid away from your own hot guys."
Her smile fades slightly, replaced by something softer. "And how did that work out for me, honey?"
My stomach twists, and I look away from the screen, picking at the edge of the blanket draped over my lap.
"I also didn't have a huge secret I was hiding from them," she says softly. "You have to tell them, Suzie."
"It's not that simple," I respond, unable to meet her gaze.
"Yes, it is," Annie insists, her voice gentle but firm. "You're pregnant. With their baby. And I know you're scared, but they deserve to know. More than that, you deserve to have them by your side. Haven't they proved they're in this for you by now? You don't have to do this alone, Suzie."
"I'll think about it," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Good," Annie says, her tone softening again before her eyes light with mischief. "Besides, I can't wait to tell your dads they're going to be grandparents."
"They’re what now?" an incredulous voice roars from the background. A voice that I immediately recognise as Ethan’s.
Oh fuck.
My shocked gaze meets Annie before I quickly hang up.
Not thirty seconds later, the phone starts ringing again but I immediately reject the call.
Am I a coward?
Fuck yes.
Do I care?
Not even a little bit.
But I guess the cat is out of the bag now.