12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Emily
I t’s been six weeks since I suggested Trent father my baby, and five weeks since I kissed Trent at the nightclub, and exactly zero minutes since I felt like I had my life together.
I sit outside Maggie’s pharmacy in my car, contemplating all the ways in which I’m fucking up my life.
The vibe between me and Trent still isn’t back to normal, and I don’t know if it’s because of the baby thing, the kiss thing, or the fact I’ve been dating the dentist for almost a month, and we’ve done little more than kiss.
In fact, I’ve purposely arranged all our dates to be in public locations and to have a limited timeframe.
I have blatantly used my son to keep Michael at arm’s length.
But the real problem isn’t Michael or the fact I’m a mom, or even Trent.
It’s me. I’m the problem. Because even though I said I’d never take Trent seriously, that I’d never get in over my head with him, that I wouldn’t become Lila, I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
The few times Michael has kissed me, I’ve compared it to how I felt with Trent—which is all kinds of wrong. So, so wrong.
Whenever I close my eyes, Trent’s lips are brushing against my earlobe, calling me fuckable, talking about putting a baby inside me.
Just thinking about it is enough to get me wet.
It sounds like he meant it, which is what’s really screwing me up.
His comments weren’t fun and flirty—they were possessive, and god help me, I liked it.
It’s not as though we haven’t seen each other either.
He’s come over a few times to grab Amir and take him somewhere—to the shop to “work” on cars to the hardware store or sometimes over to Maggie and Grady’s to hang out.
But Trent’s been very careful not to spend any alone time with me, and I haven’t invited him in either, suggested he spend the day with me and Amir.
We aren’t yet back to normal, and I miss it, ache for our old friendship like a phantom limb.
I can’t move forward with Michael until I know my feelings for Trent—sexual or otherwise—are in the rearview mirror. It’s not fair to Michael to go full throttle into anything when I’m thinking about someone else so much.
In some ways, it’s a relief that I’m even capable of thinking about anyone else at all.
For the longest time, I thought I was doomed to pine after Omar.
While what I feel for Trent isn’t on the same scale as what I felt for Omar—this seems like extreme lust—I am a little happy that I can feel something .
If there’s a positive anywhere, that’s it. I’m not sexually dead.
Thankfully, when I haul myself out of the car and into Maggie’s pharmacy, she doesn’t have many customers. While she deals with the few people in the store, I browse the shelves, checking expiry dates.
“I have people who do that,” Maggie says, her tone wry from the counter as the bells jingle on the door with Mrs. Freeman leaving.
“I like to keep busy,” I say.
“I’ve heard you’ve been keeping so busy you’ve barely seen our dentist friend, Michael, in the last week.”
“Am I the only gossip game in town?” I ask.
“In the family at the moment, yeah.”
“I don’t know if it’s going to work out with Michael,” I admit, slotting a children’s aspirin back onto the shelf.
“Really?” Maggie says. “Aww. That’s too bad. Kelvin was already planning the wedding.”
“He just got divorced,” I say. “I’m sure Michael is not in a hurry to walk down the aisle again anytime soon.”
“I don’t know. Kelvin said Michael told him he didn’t want to be an old dad. So you had that in common.”
We did. Neither of us wasted any time in getting to the heart of what we wanted.
His first marriage hadn’t worked out because she’d changed her mind about kids, and he definitely wanted them.
In that way, we were a match. But just because two people wanted kids didn’t make them long-term compatible.
Dating Michael has been pleasant, and it has reminded me that there are princes who want commitment out there—not just the toads I found on my dating app, but I couldn’t force a spark.
Wanted or not, I know what a spark feels like again, and I can’t fake it.
“Are you going to keep dating then? Or back to a donor?” Maggie asks as she starts tidying to close up.
“Donor,” I say with more decisiveness than I feel. “I had it narrowed down pretty well at the start of January, and then I got cold feet.”
“You’re breaking things off with Michael?”
“Tomorrow. We’re meeting for coffee after he’s done at work. Are you okay to watch Amir?”
“Grady can grab him from school again. He’s got him right now. Grady doesn’t go back to New York for another producing project until next week.” Maggie checks her phone. “Would you like us to feed him?”
“Oh, I can go get…” My phone rings, and I check the display.
Mullen Mechanics flashes as the caller.
“Just a sec,” I say to Maggie as I turn away. “Emily Sullivan Real Estate,” I say when I answer.
“Emily! How are you?”
“I’m good Bruce, how about you?”
“Well,” he chuckles, “I don’t know exactly how to do this, but I’d like to list my business and the shop in March. I’m retiring.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” I say, as though I didn’t already know his plan. My heart thuds at how sad Trent will be, even if he tries to hide it. I hold my hand over the phone and say to Maggie, “Can you feed Amir? I’m going to pop over to assess Mullen Mechanics.”
“No problem,” Maggie says. “You can pick him up when you’re done.”
Removing my hand from the speaker, I say, “I can pop over now and give you a preliminary estimate, if that’s helpful?”
“Yes, that would be great,” Bruce says.
After I’ve left Bruce’s shop, I sit in my car, and I debate whether I should text Trent. I have some sense of how much is a fair price for Bruce’s business, but things haven’t been normal between me and Trent, and I don’t know if a reminder of why they’re not normal is a good idea.
Still, if the situation were reversed, I’d want to know that my dream business was going up for sale. Even if Trent expected it, it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t tell him.
Before I can second guess myself more, I fire off a text about Bruce contacting me.
I’m still happy to keep my part of the deal, if you’ve changed your mind and you’d like my help. I type it all as quickly as I can and hit send.
What happens next is up to Trent.
I’m not expecting a quick reply—he’s been slower to respond the last few weeks, which I’ve tried not to worry about. One kiss, as hot as it was, isn’t going to break us.
Text me when Amir’s asleep, and I’ll pop over.
His answer is swift and decisive, and it makes my pulse race. We haven’t been alone together since the kiss. But if he’s coming over to talk about the business, about a loan, maybe we’ll be able to find our footing again as friends.
Amir has been asleep for thirty minutes before I even text Trent to let him know it’s safe to come over. So when there’s a quiet knock on my door less than fifteen minutes later, I’m surprised Trent’s already here.
When he comes into the house, my throat feels tight, like all my worry and uncertainty is being held there.
He has a manilla envelope in his hand, and I wonder whether it’s all his financial information so we’ll know where we stand with the business.
“Should we sit down?” he asks, gesturing to the table, but he seems uncharacteristically nervous.
“Sure,” I say, sliding onto the seat across from him.
He sets the envelope on the table and meets my gaze. “I know we haven’t talked about anything important in weeks, and I’m sorry about that. Are you still dating the dentist?”
I swallow, and for the first time I wonder what it looks like to Trent.
On a literal date with the dentist, I was practically climbing Trent in a back room.
From his perspective, it must have been ridiculous that I even went on a second date, let alone a third, fourth, and fifth.
Unfair as it was, I needed the buffer of Michael to not be tempted to take Trent seriously, and it hadn’t really worked in the end anyway.
“I’m actually breaking things off with him tomorrow. It’s not working out.”
“I’m sorry about what happened in the club,” he says, “that was a real dick move on my part. I knew you were there with someone…” He shakes his head, his annoyance clear.
“I kissed you, Trent. That was all me. I’m the dick.”
“Sixty-forty on the dickishness,” he says with a hint of a smile. “I definitely didn’t say ‘no.’”
In fact, he said a lot that might have driven me to kiss him. “I accept that split,” I say. “Is that what you came to talk about?”
“In a way,” he says, sliding the envelope toward me. “I just got all this back today, so I guess the timing is good.”
“You want me to look at this?” I ask, plucking the envelope off the table.
“Yeah,” he says, running a hand along the top of his head. “I’m a bit nervous about it.”
With a frown, I pull out the papers, and the first one I see is STD results proclaiming Trent to be disease free.
“Okay,” I say with a little self-conscious laugh.
The next one is a genetics test, and my breath catches in my throat, scanning it quickly before looking at the third paper—a sperm analysis. “Trent,” I breathe out.
“I don’t know if you still want to do it, and if you don’t, that’s okay. But if we do it, I wanted to give you as much peace of mind as possible. I’m not hiding anything from you. The only thing that came up on that genetic profile that the doc said might be an issue is my dyslexia.”
My chest feels like it’s both too big and too small for all my warring emotions. “I can’t believe you did this,” I whisper, my throat tight with a sob.
“I got the sense with the donor stuff that you’d feel better if you knew all this about me too. I wouldn’t want to put you in the same position you’re in with Amir, if I can avoid it.”
I drop the papers on the table, and I cover my face as a sob escapes.
Trent is around the table, hauling me into his arms, and it feels so good to be hugged by him again.
I breathe in the full, dark scent of his cologne.
We haven’t touched in weeks, and I clutch onto him, crying into his chest, overwhelmed by happiness and relief.
I don’t need a donor. I don’t need to keep dating men who make me feel nothing.
He smooths my hair and keeps me close as I cry, and he doesn’t try to get me to stop or convince me that I shouldn’t be crying. He lets me feel it all.
“We’ve still got some things to talk about,” he says, “when you’re ready.”