15. Home
FIFTEEN
HOME
Bella
The Uber winds through Cedar Grove’s familiar streets, each turn taking me further from Manhattan and closer to a life I thought I’d left behind.
Bradford Avenue’s maple trees create tunnels of red and gold—October in New Jersey, exactly as I remember it.
“That turn up ahead,” I tell the driver. Though he has GPS, giving directions feels like speaking a childhood language I’d almost forgotten.
Mom’s waiting on the porch, probably has been since I texted that I’d left Penn Station. She’s still in her hospital scrubs—must have just gotten off her nursing shift—but she’s already got that look. The one that means she knows something’s wrong.
“Baby.” She wraps me in a hug that smells like home and antiseptic. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” I try to smile. “Can’t a girl visit her mom?”
“A girl who hasn’t taken a day off work in two years?” She helps with my suitcase. “Honey, I know you’ve been too busy with your fancy CEO boyfriend.”
I wince. I’d recently told her about dating someone to stop her constant worry about me being alone in the city. The stories were vague—successful businessman, serious relationship. Never mentioned he was also my boss. Never imagined I’d end up here, carrying his child.
“James called,” she says, referring to my high school friend who works at the train station. “Said you looked like you’d been crying.”
Small towns. Can’t even have a breakdown in peace.
“Work stress,” I lie, following her inside. The house smells like fresh bread—her remedy for everything since Dad died twelve years ago.
“From your boss or your boyfriend?”
“Mom—”
“Because last week you were telling me how wonderful things were going with...” She frowns. “What was his name again?”
“Logan,” I say, the name catching in my throat.
“Right. Logan.” She eyes me carefully. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”
If she only knew, but I have a feeling mom’s intuition will kick in soon enough.
My old room looks exactly the same—debate team trophies, college acceptance letters framed on the wall, and the worn copy of King Lear on my bedside table—Dad’s last gift before the heart attack.
“I made up your bed,” Mom says, hovering in the doorway. “And there’s soup warming on the stove. The kind you liked after breakups in high school.”
“I’m not—” But I can’t finish the lie. “Thanks, Mom.”
She doesn’t push. She just squeezes my shoulder and leaves me alone with my thoughts. And the morning sickness that has nothing to do with her soup.
Later, after a shower and change of clothes, I find her in the kitchen. She’s stress-baking, another habit I inherited.
“Your boss called the house,” she says casually.
My heart stops. “What?”
“Mr. Fraser’s office. Wondering where you were.” She kneads bread dough with more force than necessary. “Funny, since you said you had time off.”
“I meant to call?—”
She sighs. “Honey, whatever’s happened, running away isn’t the answer.”
“I’m not running.” But the fetus growing in my belly says otherwise.
“Really?”
I swallow hard. “This is different.”
“Is it? Because you’ve been talking about this Logan man during every call. You always found a way to sneak him into conversations.”
Had I really said all that? Given away so much without realizing it?
“And now you’re here, looking like your world’s ended, avoiding calls from both him and your boss.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
“I can’t.” My voice cracks. “Not yet.”
She nods, accepting this like she accepted every other time I needed space to figure things out—after Dad died, after my first heartbreak, after I decided to leave Cedar Grove for Manhattan.
I stare at the chocolate chip cookies she's putting in the oven, and even though they look delicious, my stomach turns uncomfortably. “Be back in a moment,” I mutter, going green, and run to the bathroom.
I try to keep it as quiet as possible, but it's hard when everything I used to love is now making me sick. When I come back, Mom's pouring hot tea into a cup.
“Bella, whenever you're ready to talk,” she says, sliding a cup of ginger tea across the counter, “I’m here.” It isn't lost on me that she used to make this whenever I'd come home from school with an upset stomach.
I stare at the tea—her cure for upset stomachs since I was little. Of course, she’s noticed the morning sickness. She’s a nurse. Looks like mom’s intuition kicked in sooner than I expected.
* * *
I’m at the diner I used to waitress at back in high school. The Wi-Fi password hasn’t changed in ten years: “BestPieInJersey.”
I order my third ginger tea—the only thing that settles my stomach lately—and pull up another job listing. London looks promising. The settlement from my “relationship” with Logan would cover relocation costs easily.
My cursor hovers over a link for women’s health clinics.
“Well, if it isn’t Bella Levine.”
I know that voice. Haven’t heard it in a decade, but some things you don’t forget. Like how Tracy Matthews made high school hell or how her boyfriend—my ex—dumped me for her.
“Tracy.” I don’t look up. “Still here, I see.”
“Some of us are happy with small-town life.” She slides into my booth uninvited, perfectly manicured nails tapping the table. “Not everyone needs a big city to feel important. Dan, honey!” she calls out. “Look who it is!”
Dan approaches, looking exactly like the quarterback he used to be, just slightly paunchy now. “Bells. Heard you were back in town.”
“Don’t call me that.” I keep my voice flat. “And I’m working.”
Tracy peers at my screen. “Job hunting? Trouble in the big city?”
Before I can respond, she gasps dramatically. “Oh my God, is that a woman’s clinic?”
I slam my laptop shut, but the damage is done. Her eyes gleam with malicious delight.
“Guess the city girl’s not so perfect after all.”
“At least I left this town,” I snap. “The furthest you’ve been is the Walmart in Montclair.”
“I have everything I need right here.” She grabs Dan’s hand. “A husband, a home?—”
“A job at the same salon that employed you in high school?” I smile sweetly. “How... consistent of you.”
Dan shifts uncomfortably. “Tracy, we should?—”
A commotion near the door makes us both look up. People are crowding the windows, whispering. Then the bell chimes, and the diner falls silent.
Logan stands in the doorway, looking like a shadow of himself. His suit is wrinkled, his hair a mess, and dark circles under his eyes. But somehow, he’s still the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.
“Bella.” My name in his accent makes my heart stutter.
Dan straightens. “Who’s this?”
I ignore him, staring at Logan. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you.” He takes a step closer. “I need to tell you... God, I need to tell you everything.”
“I’m busy.” I start packing my laptop.
“Five minutes.” His voice cracks. “In the car. Then, if you still want me to go, I will.”
The entire diner watches, including Tracy and Dan. For once, she’s speechless. I can’t help how part of me thrilled about that. Looks like the last laugh is mine.
I lead the way with Logan’s hand on my lower back. Everything I want to avoid and want at the same time. Logan’s car is warm. The leather seats smell like his cologne.
“You look tired,” I say because it’s easier than asking why he’s here.
“Haven’t slept.” He stares straight ahead.
He tells me everything, including all the bits of the story I didn’t know existed. He tells me about the damage done, and for once, I see Logan as a different person.
“When you told me about the baby,” his voice breaks, “all I saw was that night at the hospital when Audrey was born. And I ran.” He laughs bitterly. “I spent my whole life trying not to become my father, and the moment it mattered most, I did exactly what he would have done.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I love you.” He turns to face me, eyes red but clear. “Not because of the board, not because of our arrangement. I love you because you’ve never let me hide behind my money or my accent or my walls. Because you challenge me, infuriate me, and make me laugh when I’m trying to be angry. Because you make me want to be better than my fears.”
My heart pounds. “You left.”
“I know. And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for the past five days, if you’ll let me.” His hand hovers near mine. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for a chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve. The father our child deserves.”
“How do I know you won’t run again?” I ask, tears welling in my eyes.
“Because running nearly killed me.” His voice catches. “Because the thought of becoming my father terrifies me more than losing you. Because I’d rather face every fear I have than spend another day without you.”
Through the window, I see Tracy and Dan watching, along with half the diner. By dinner time, the whole town will know about the fancy businessman begging me in his Bentley.
“I’m scared too,” I admit. “Of all of it. The pregnancy and the future. I don’t want my child to suffer.”
“Then let’s be scared together.” He finally takes my hand. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up again. But I can promise I’ll never stop trying to be worthy of you. Both of you.”
His palm is warm against mine.
“I won’t make it easy,” I warn him.
“You never have.” His lips quirk. “It’s one of the reasons I love you.”
I look at him and see the fear still in his eyes.
“Say something,” he whispers.
Instead, I kiss him. It’s not forgiveness, not yet. But it’s a beginning.
“We still have a lot to talk about,” I say when we break apart.
“Everything.” He rests his forehead against mine. “Anything you want to know.”
“Starting with how to explain to my mom that my boss and my boyfriend are the same person.”
His eyes widen. “She doesn’t know?”
“That’s tomorrow’s problem.” I kiss him again, softer this time. “Today, you’re buying me breakfast while my ex and his wife watch and die of curiosity.”
“Anything you want.” His smile finally reaches his eyes. “Everything you want.”