Chapter 40
FORTY
HARRIET
TWENTY-FIVE WEEKS PREGNANT
Walking into Morning Glory is always a treat to the senses.
Today’s leading scent is honeysuckle, creamy and sweet, not too overwhelming for my pregnant nose.
An upbeat playlist drifts through the speaker, and, combined with the sea of colors poking out of metal buckets and hanging from the ceiling, the quirky flower shop is one of my favorite places to visit.
Plus, Margot always has great snacks stashed in her office.
The flower shop opened earlier this year, and it’s already a staple in our little community. Margot works her ass off, running a business single-handedly while raising a daughter. I’m continuously impressed by all my friends, but especially Margot with my motherhood nearing closer.
I’m surprised to see Willow, Margot’s daughter, sitting behind the counter. She usually hides away out back or at one of her many after school clubs.
“Hey, Will. How was school?”
She shrugs, glancing up at me from the book she’s reading. “Boring.”
“School isn’t boring. We need to nurture that brilliant mind of yours,” Margot’s voice hollers from the back of the store.
Willow rolls her eyes.
She’s a good kid, smarter than I was in middle school. Or even college, for that matter. Unlike her spirited mother, Willow is a little more reserved, but still your typical pre-teen.
As if to prove my point, Margot skips into the room wearing an oversized tie-dye T-shirt, flared jeans, and an assortment of crystals hanging from her neck. Quite the contrast to her daughter’s black leggings and deep purple sweater. The only thing they share are their dark eyes and midnight hair.
“Willow here might go up a grade, skipping sixth and straight into seventh.” Margot sniffles. “Brains and beauty.”
“Moooom,” Willow groans, but behind her curtain of dark locks, her tiny smile can’t stay hidden.
Though I’ve no preference about the baby’s gender, seeing this mother-daughter interaction makes me imagine what my daughter would be like. Then, I remember what a handful me and my sister were.
Teenage girls are scary.
“Willow, that’s amazing. Harvard, here we come!” I poke her in the arm playfully.
“MIT is actually my top preference,” she says seriously.
“Did we have plans today?” Margot asks while trimming the stems of some gypsophila.
“Nope. I’m here as a customer.” My eyes dance over the selection of pastel wreaths hanging next to the counter. “I’d like to purchase an Easter wreath.”
“Purchase?” Margot flaps her hand in my direction. “Your money is worthless here. I’ve told you this. I’ve told all of you this.”
Not this again. I love a freebie as much as the next person, but ever since we befriended her, she’s refused to accept a single dime from me, Parker, or Talia.
Parker has gone as far as sending in strangers on her behalf, and I’m pretty sure Talia anonymously sends flowers to herself.
The flower shop does well. Great, in fact, but being a single mom isn’t cheap, and, from what I gather, Willow’s dad doesn’t support them financially.
“Margot, you’re selling them for forty dollars. I am not taking one for free.” I thrust my hands on my hips.
“Which one do you want? The powder-blue will look lovely against the white-oak on your front door.” She ignores my protest and continues tying together a small arrangement. “Or even the yellow.”
I cast a glance at Willow, who shakes her head.
My huff of defeat isn’t very convincing, and later, Margot will find a mysterious fifty-dollar bill in her coat pocket. “The blue, please.”
She beams at me and scurries from behind the counter. “How are mom and baby? And baby daddy?”
Now I’m the one rolling my eyes like a middle-schooler. “We’re all fine. Warren and I are going shopping for a stroller this weekend, which should be fun.”
The last word comes out tight and forced. Fun isn’t quite how I imagine our shopping trip going. It’ll be the first time we’ve seen each other since we tore our friendship pact to shreds.
There are no secrets between the four of us, and by now, my friends are well aware of Warren’s good deed,” as well as our after-dinner kiss.
“And how are things going between the two of you?” Margot fails to hide her eager tone.
“The same.” I prop my arms on the counter and fiddle with some fallen leaves. “We text. We call. It’s all very friendly. Which leads me to believe that will be the theme going forward. Which is fine. Totally fine.”
Margot wraps her fingers around my wrist and smiles at me.
“There’s nothing wrong with chasing after something you want.
From what you tell us, Warren is smitten with you, but if he’s been burned by a relationship before, he might need some gentle guidance and reassurance.
It can be tough getting back out there for the first time. ”
Willow side-eyes her mom. Neither of us says what we’re thinking. According to her loose-lipped daughter, Margot hasn’t gone on a date with a man, well, ever.
“I don’t want to push him. This is all so weird and backward. Maybe I’m coming off too strong?”
My phone dings, interrupting Margot’s response.
Warren: *photo of an ear of corn*
Warren: I’ve never liked corn until today.
I bite my lip. Without fail, he’s sent a photo every week holding whatever size fruit or vegetable our baby is.
Harriet: The first rule of parenting: be biased.
Harriet: Are we still on for Saturday?
Warren: Of course. I’ll pick you up.
Harriet: I can drive, you know.
Warren: I know. Your car is tiny. My truck is safer.
Harriet: One day, I’ll make you my passenger princess.
“Oh, I know that look. It’s the same face Willow makes whenever she sees the boy from across the street,” Margot teases.
“Seriously, Mom?” Willow abandons her book and stomps away.
Warren: If you’re not in any rush, maybe we can grab lunch before? I’d really like to talk.
My stomach drops. This can’t be good.
Harriet: I’ll never turn down food :)
Whatever happens, happens for a reason. I can push aside my feelings and be grownup about this. It’s just a crush. One that makes my chest ache and skin tingle, but it’ll pass.
It has to pass.
Warren holds the door open, gesturing for me to enter the small Italian restaurant first. Ever the gentleman.
We chatted easily on the short car ride to the strip mall, a few miles outside of Iris Meadows.
As usual, Warren is a blank page, his intentions entirely unreminiscent, and now, I have to spend the afternoon pretending a horny harlot isn’t trying to break free.
The only thing I’m looking for is the promise of cheesy, carby goodness.
I studied the menu on the way over, and once we’re seated, I’m eager to place our orders.
My hunger is so distracting, it’s only when a bread basket is placed on the table, I notice how romantic the interior is.
Dinner by candlelight. The soft strings of a cello.
A small table making it impossible to avoid Warren’s intense gaze.
“This is nice,” I observe. “Have you eaten here before?”
He shakes his head and pushes the bread my way, leaving his hand to rest on the red-and-white checked tablecloth. “Diana recommended it. She and Marcus like to come here when they’re Freddie-free.”
I try—and fail—not to look too closely into that.
Five minutes pass. I devour half of the focaccia. He watches me with a fond smile.
I probably have herbs in my teeth.
“Please eat some before I inhale the entire basket.”
His lips stretch wider. He’s always good looking, but with the dim flicker of the candle casting shadows over his face, wearing his rare smile, he’s unfairly handsome.
It’s the glimpse of relaxed joy that really lures me in.
Not even a week ago, I felt that smile against the side of my neck right before he kissed me silly.
“I’m enjoying myself,” he replies.
I snort. “Watching me eat?”
“Yes. And your company.” The tip of his index finger grazes mine. I swallow my bite, waiting for any hint about what’s going on in his head. No such luck. “Do you know what type of stroller you want to buy today?”
Baby talk. Safe. He’s present and involved. What more could I ask? The thing is, ever since the kiss, I can’t help but question if there was no baby and we still bumped into each other at his brother’s wedding, what would’ve happened?
Resisting the urge to pull my hand onto my lap, I shake those thoughts away. “My sister gave me a few recommendations. We shouldn’t be too long if you have somewhere to be. I know it’s your day off.”
“No plans. Just this.” His gaze lowers to where his finger traces a slow path over my knuckle. “What you said the other night, it really stuck with me. I wanted to—”
“One Cacio e Pepe, and one vegetable risotto.”
The arrival of our food interrupts whatever Warren was saying.
Once the server leaves, he doesn’t continue, leaving me guessing as we eat in silence.
Did I overstep? I was half asleep when I told him to take what he deserves.
It doesn’t make it any less true, and I stand by my statement, even if it’s forged a barricade between us.
He doesn’t have to be happy with me. He should just be happy.
We eat quickly, not wanting to miss the appointment at the baby store across the street. We argue over who pays the check and then find ourselves back outside in the March afternoon, the breeze warm as spring teases the air.
“Thanks for feeding me.” I glance at my watch. “We have a few minutes to spare. Do you want to grab a coffee?”
I move toward the pedestrian crossing when a warm hand locks gently around my wrist. My gaze snaps up to Warren’s, who can’t decide if he wants to look at me or the sidewalk.
“Everything okay?” I ask warily.
“Um, yeah.” His lips corkscrew as he thinks, a shyness to his tone. “I had a lot more to say, but it’s escaped me.”
“If it’s about the other night, you don’t have to say anything. I understand.” I offer him a smile.
Warren’s fingers flex against my skin, as if he’s playing the piano. “I don’t think you do understand, and putting it into words is proving more difficult than I expected.”
“Can you show me?”
His flitting eyes finally lock with mine, and I shift on my feet at his sudden, unwavering attention. He shifts closer, dropping my wrist, only to weave our fingers.
The air stills. The only sound is the blood roaring in my ears as Warren raises our intertwined hands and presses his lips to my knuckles. “This is me moving forward.”
Words prove impossible.
Another kiss. “You’re right. I’m scared, and fear has kept me stationary for too long.
I’m tired of it. I’m still not sure I’m deserving of whatever you have to offer, but if you’re willing to try with me, I’ll take whatever you’ll give.
” His voice softens, barely audible over the passing traffic.
“I only ask you to be patient with me. There’s a lot I’m still trying to unpack after my marriage. Shit I’m trying to work through.”
He spreads his palm wide across my belly. “You’re the two most important people in my life, and that scares the life out of me. Which is why I know I’m heading in the right direction for once, because I’ve never wanted anything more.”
My bottom lip wobbles. I’m completely sideswiped by his confession.
“I don’t want to rush this either, but I do want us to stop hiding from our feelings.
I’m happy with whatever pace you set.” Pushing up on my tiptoes until our faces hover millimeters apart, I whisper, “I want to move forward too. With you.”
Relief pulses from him. Whatever tension he held evaporates. “If we weren’t on the side of a busy intersection, I’d kiss you something fierce right now, sweetheart.”
My blood hums a happy melody. “All good things come to those who wait.”