Chapter 28 Harriet
TWENTY-EIGHT
HARRIET
Five days turned into fourteen.
My landlord buckled up and started work on my apartment immediately. No doubt the threat of legal action and liability from Warren if anything were to happen to me stoked a fire underneath him.
It’s fun staying with Talia, and though she works long hours, the company is nice. She and her husband bought this house before they separated, and considering it’s just her now, there’s plenty of room. It’s also requires a lot of upkeep, but Talia refuses to hire a maid.
After hours spent finalizing the end chords for my recent song, I put down my guitar and decide to do some deep cleaning—the perfect opportunity to throw on my cute maternity overalls.
The bump is bumping. The kicks are kicking. The heartburn is burning. Knowing you’re pregnant and feeling pregnant are two very different things, and I’m finally experiencing the latter.
I’m wringing out the sudsy mop, a crisp citrus scent filling the air, when the doorbell rings. I squeal in excitement, knowing it’s the box of baby clothes from my sister. Careful on the wet tiles, I make a beeline for the front door, not caring about my greasy hair and pimple patches.
It’s not the delivery driver.
“Warren.” I covertly cover the purple stars on my chin.
He was working today, still on desk duty, and must’ve come straight from the firehouse.
Not bothered by the chilly morning, he stands in a tight navy T-shirt, the fire department badge on his pec and the sleeves hugging the bulges of his biceps.
Thick work pants sit snuggly on his hips, but what really does it are the suspenders stretching across his broad chest and shoulders.
I’ve never put much thought into a man in uniform until this very moment.
I’m totally onboard with it. Ten out of ten. Is his hat in the truck? Perhaps the pole they slide down?
Pausing my starved perusal, it finally clicks why he’s here. “Our appointment isn’t for another couple of hours. You’re early.”
He squints in the morning sun toward his truck. “I was hoping we could go for a drive.”
“Now?” I squeak.
“If that’s okay.” He winces. “I should’ve texted, sorry. Kinda blew over here after my shift without thinking.”
“Give me ten minutes. I need to get changed.” I open the door, gesturing him inside. “Do you want a coffee?”
Ignoring my question, he glances at my outfit. “What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
“Um, I look like I’ve been dragged through a bush backward. Twice,” I deadpan.
“You look beautiful. But I want you to be comfortable.” He folds his arms, leaning against the sofa. “I’ll wait.”
I edge backward, wondering if he’s being kind or truthful. I go with the former and disappear into my bedroom to run a brush through my hair and peel off the patches. My outfit is comfy, one of the few things that fits me these days, which is why I bought five, all in different colors.
Why should I care what Warren thinks?
After a spritz of deodorant and a swipe of lip balm, I find Warren exactly where I left him. His studious gaze and handsome face remind me why I care. Gosh darn suspenders.
“Okay, I’m ready,” I chirp and grab my coat.
He smiles and plucks at the thick strap of my olive green overalls. “I like this.”
It’s suddenly too hot for another layer. We head outside, lock up, and once we’ve climbed into his truck, I turn to him. “Where are we headed?”
With a hand behind my headrest, he expertly reverses out of the drive. “A friend’s house. It’s not far. A little on the outskirts.”
Sensing an air of secrecy wafting from him, I zip my lips and get comfortable.
We drive north, leaving Talia’s more affluent neighborhood, and pass through downtown.
Bungalows and farm houses come into view, with various colored paneling and white-picket fences.
I haven’t ventured to this side of town a lot.
It’s a quieter, where kids can race their bikes through the streets or run wild in the surrounding meadow fields.
We park outside a two-story cottage, with a steep gabled roof and brick exterior. A large black cherry tree looms over it, its spindly branches corkscrewing up to the sky.
It’s cozy, as if pulled right out of a fairytale.
“This is adorable,” I exclaim, my nose pressing against the cool window. “It has a name. The Little Hearth. How precious.”
Warren steps from the truck, and I follow. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah. This neighborhood is lovely.” I turn to him as we pause outside the front gate. “You never told me you had a friend in town.”
He shrugs, my comment sliding off his shoulders. “Let’s go inside. See what you think.”
I narrow my eyes at the back of his head as he casually wanders up the cobbled path. His mysterious personality isn’t abnormal, but something is off. “What’s your friend’s name?”
A beat passes. “Michael.”
“Michael what?”
He peers at me over his shoulder. “You’re awful nosy today.”
“And you’re terrible at acting casual.” I fold my arms, raising my chin haughtily. “What gives?”
“Nothing.” He avoids my pensive gaze while fishing a set of keys out of his pocket and then opening the front door.
The air is toasty inside, the smell of burning wood fire lingering.
If the outside was cozy, the inside is the epitome.
It’s quaint, with an open-plan living and kitchen.
A mix of hickory and exposed brick covers the walls, while polished hardwood lines the floors.
It’s not too modern or traditional, more of an in between.
Orange embers glow in the cast-iron fireplace, the perfect touch to the little cottage.
A large hand falls to the bottom of my spine, guiding me farther inside.
“I’m gonna need the name of Michael’s interior designer, because this is delightful.” I glance at Warren. “Are a family of deer going to pop out and serenade us?”
He chuckles. “I’ve heard the meadow is quite the animal pen in the summer. You never know.”
I’m speechless as Warren gives me a brief tour. We peek inside the kitchen, and each room after gets better. We finish in the main bedroom, and I almost forget why we’re here.
Almost.
Warren jolts backward when I spin on my heels. “Okay, spill.”
His slightly overgrown beard tickles his full lips as they purse in contemplation. “What did you think about the smaller bedroom?”
I frown. “Perfect. The view overlooking the backyard was my favorite.”
He doesn’t blink. “It’s a good size. Maybe for a…”
“A what?”
With his deep exhale, the reason behind the mystery tour is revealed. “For a nursery.”
I’ve misheard him. The chemicals from my morning deep clean must’ve mixed. “Who’s nursery?”
His gaze lowers to my belly.
“Um, I don’t think so. This place isn’t even up for rent, and I’m going to take a wild guess and presume it’s way out of my price range.”
“It’s available.” He’s unreadable as he ushers me to the small circular window overlooking the backyard.
There’s no denying this is the house of my dreams, plucked right from my Pinterest board. I sigh while staring at the tall maple tree, its branches swaying in the wind. The sky is a brilliant cerulean blue today, the odd wispy cloud floating by. “It would be perfect, but I can’t afford this.”
His shoulder brushes mine, and thank god he can’t see the tears burning my eyes.
“Michael owes me, and I cashed in the favor.” He gently grips my wrist, forcing me to face him. “Whatever your rent was at the apartment, he’ll agree to. All he asks is you commit to a one-year tenancy.”
I gawk at him. “You can’t be serious? This is too much.”
“It isn’t too much; it’s exactly what you deserve, so don’t be forgetting that, sweetheart.” He cups my cheek. “Nothing is too much if it means you’re happy, safe, and have somewhere to call your own. I can tell from your expression you love this place, so let me help. Please.”
I’m leaning into Warren’s rough palm while my brain scrambles for the correct response. A thank you is too pedestrian. “I’ll only agree if you promise to stay here when you’re in town.”
Wait, what?
The connection between my brain and mouth is severed because I didn’t sign off on that.
Warren’s perplexed expression mirrors mine. Best I roll with it.
“You’re always in Iris Meadows, visiting me or running errands after a long shift.
Don’t get me wrong, I love your company, but you must be exhausted.
” His hand drops, and I do us both a favor by circling the room.
“There’s enough room in the office for a pull-out bed.
You can have your own key, come and go as you please.
Plus, when the baby is here, we’ll be seeing a lot more of you, won’t we? ”
My last question rings with hope.
“Harriet, this isn’t a good idea…”
“Why?”
His eyes flare, as if the answer is obvious.
“So it might not be conventional, but what better way for us to get to know each other than adult sleepovers?”
He chokes on air.
“Oh, not those types of sleepovers. Separate beds. Fully clothed. PG.” I’m rambling and sweating and losing the plot. I refuse to let this go without giving him something in return, because so far, this friendship seems very one-sided. “Please, Warren. Promise you’ll consider it.”
A deep groan of defeat echoes through the bedroom. “You make it very hard to say no to you.”
I flutter my eyelashes. “I’m the youngest daughter. I was born to get my way.”
Verbally, he doesn’t agree, but his decision is crystal clear.
The father of my child is now my kind of roommate, because if the waters weren’t muddied enough already, this will certainly do the trick.
I suck in a breath as the sonographer squirts cold gel across my stomach.
I’m a riot of emotions. The gratitude and shock from Warren’s surprise still bubbles, now mixing with the nerves and anticipation of seeing our baby for the first time in months.
I glance to my right. Warren’s emotions are harder to read, but from the way his rigid posture is crammed into the small plastic chair, I’d bet he’s feeling the same. He wasn’t here for the first scan, and I’m equally eager and curious to see how this vault of a man reacts.
“Okay, Mom and Dad, let’s see how baby’s doing today,” the sonographer says cheerfully.
She places the probe below my belly button and starts gliding it over my skin. My eyes are glued to the black-and-white screen.
Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum. Badum.
My heart catapults in tune with the racing heartbeat filling the room.
Button.
A much bigger, wriggly version.
In the last week, I’ve felt more little pops and taps, each one causing me to grin wildly.
“You’ve got a live wire in here.” She laughs. “We’re not finding out the gender?”
“Yes, we’re keeping it a secret. Unless you’ve changed your mind?” I turn to Warren to gauge his reaction.
He’s hunched forward, half out of his chair, as he stares intensely at the screen, lips parted in utter awe.
I wore the same expression at the first scan, and seeing the unfiltered wonder take over his face fills my chest with a new type of happiness.
There are times he seems distant when we talk about the baby, as if the news hasn’t sunk in yet. This isn’t one of those moments.
“It’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?” I say softly.
He can’t drag his gaze away. “That’s…that’s our kid.”
His voice is barely above a whisper. I let him have his moment, knowing the reel of emotions playing through him. Watching him is equally wonderful.
“Hey there, Button. This is your dad.” He clears his throat and scrubs a hand down his jaw before turning to me.
Those dark irises shine bright with unshed tears.
He doesn’t swipe them away or hide his emotions.
This is Warren, cracked wide open, heart open, raw and exposed.
It’s beautiful to witness. There are times I want to rip back his layers to expose more of him.
This unguarded version is so rare, I don’t think even Warren knows what to do.
“Thank you, Harriet,” he whispers hoarsely.
“For what?”
“For so much.” He shakes his head gently, his attention returning to the screen.
His hand rises as if he wants to reach out and touch the baby.
“But this…this goes beyond anything I ever thought possible. I swear to you, I’ll treasure and care for our baby with my life.
” Those somber eyes find mine again. “Both of you.”