Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Sadie
M y mother sets a gift bag on my lap. With over thirty people watching excitedly, I reach my hand in to retrieve a tiny white onesie covered in orange ducks. There’s a collective aww through the crowd as I hold it up to show everyone.
The onesie is so small it practically fits in my hand. It’s hard to believe somebody will be wearing this. I drape the onesie over my round stomach as I reach in to pull out the rest of the gifts in the bag. It’s a tiny bathrobe, a yellow baby towel and a pack of itty-bitty washcloths.
Smiling at the front of the room, I thank my aunt for the gifts—while silently wondering to myself why on earth a baby needs his own towels and washcloths in the first place.
I’m surrounded by gifts and diapers. There’s a cake by the window covered in yellow flowers. I tried to tell my mom I hate the color yellow. But she insisted that since I wasn’t going to find out if the baby was a boy or a girl, it was either yellow or gray.
Honestly, I would have preferred gray. I could have tried to explain to her that a boy can wear a pink onesie and a girl can wear blue pants. But it would have been futile.
Speaking of futile, my gaze scans the crowd once again. But of course, he’s not here. When Sage and Adam offered to host the baby shower in the rec room of his church for free, I agreed, knowing there’d be a small chance he could turn up.
You can take the girl out of hopeless, but you can’t take the hopeless out of the girl—or however that saying goes.
It’s been a little over a month since I left Luke’s house. Another professor has been covering his courses. I transferred out of his class, and I deleted his number from my phone to resist the temptation to call him back. In fact, the shower today is probably the first time I’ve even bothered putting on makeup since we ended things.
I did the right thing. I know I did.
But it still hurts.
I guess that’s the thing about being an adult that nobody really warns you about. Mature decisions suck. Indulgent immaturity is way more fun.
I’m just a little bitter that while I’m sitting here wallowing in self-pity, he’s probably packing up and getting ready for the adventure of his life.
I thought being excited about the baby would distract me from missing Luke, but during the first half of my pregnancy, Luke was part of this. It felt like we were on this journey together . So now every doctor’s appointment and kick from the baby just reminds me that he’s not here.
Once I’ve gotten through all the presents, I stand from my chair and stretch my arms up to the ceiling. This baby is taking up so much room already, I have no idea how I still have two months to go.
According to the baby books, he is roughly the size of a zucchini. Which is impossible because it looks like I’m carrying about a hundred zucchinis right now.
“You hungry?” Sage asks as she rests a hand on my back .
“No thanks, I’m good,” I reply. Faith is sleeping in a bundle against her chest, wrapped in a swathe of cotton. I’m a little jealous at how naturally Sage seems to be transitioning to motherhood. It helps that she has a supportive, loving husband and partner to carry the load.
Meanwhile, I’ll be doing this alone and struggling while still living at my parents’ house. My situation feels less like stepping into motherhood and more like being thrown off the side of a cruise ship with my ankles tied while taking care of a baby.
My excitement has turned into apprehension. Every day, my mother keeps asking if I want to go stroller shopping or to pick out a crib, and I have zero motivation to do any of that. I don’t want to set up a crib at my parents’ house.
Sage’s sister-in-law, Briar, approaches with her daughter Abby by her side. Something tightens in my chest being around these two. Sage is my best friend, and I really like Briar, but they’re each married to one of Luke’s brothers. And that reminder feels like an alarm going off inside me.
It’s like feeling as if I belong and don’t belong at the same time. For a moment, I thought I could be Lucas’s wife. I thought we had a future together. It was brief, but it was there, and it was more exciting than anything.
And I walked away from that—for my own good.
A pair of tiny hands press against my stomach, and I look down at Abby as she smiles up at me, waiting for the baby to kick.
“Abigail,” her mother scolds, “you have to ask permission before you touch somebody, honey.”
“Sorry,” she says. “Can I touch your belly?” she asks without ever taking her hands off in the first place.
I chuckle. “Yes, of course.”
I give the baby a gentle poke from underneath, which usually gets him or her to do a little kick. When Abby feels it, her eyes widen with excitement.
Briar smiles softly at me. “Thanks for inviting us. You look beautiful. ”
“Thanks,” I reply. “I’m glad you could make it.”
In the corner, the men are standing together, Caleb, Dean, and Adam, each with a beer in their hands.
I was adamant to Sage and my mother that I didn’t want a traditional baby shower. No silly games. Even the men could come if they want. And yes, maybe underneath all of that was some ulterior motive in hopes that Lucas might show up.
But apparently, that was being too hopeful.
For all I know, he could have left already. Even though the semester isn’t over, and as far as I know, he’s still teaching, although I haven’t seen him.
But he could also be out with a hot English teacher, or he could be on a plane to England, or he could be sitting in his house alone with jazz playing on the record player and a book in his hand with a glass of whiskey by his side. What hurts is that I have no idea which one it is.
Briar, Sage, and Abby disperse, leaving me to peruse the food table alone. When I glance up through the window of the rec room and see a familiar man standing in the parking lot with his back to me, I freeze. As I watch him, my heart begins to hammer in my chest and I’m flooded with sickening hope.
“Stop it,” I scold myself quietly. “He’s not here for you. Nothing has changed.”
And yet, I can’t stop myself as I turn from the food table and walk toward the door. He turns to face me right as I step outside, and our eyes meet.
All of the days since we have seen each other suddenly feel insurmountable. His eyes trail down to my stomach and back up to my face.
“Hey,” he says casually.
“Hey,” I reply.
“You look great,” he stammers.
“Thanks.”
I don’t quite know what this is, so I don’t know how to behave. Is he here as a friend? Did he stop by just to say hello? Do I mean nothing to him? I don’t have it in me to hope for anything more, so I force myself to stay neutral.
“I didn’t know if I should come,” he stutters, “but I just thought…” His voice trails as if he doesn’t know what else to say.
I stare at his face and remember what it felt like to kiss those lips. I wish I could feel his arms wrapped around me one more time.
I wrap my arms around myself, like a reflex, even though it’s not cold. A bit chilly for March in Texas, but nothing near as cold as this interaction between us.
Part of me wants to ask about the program and if he’s excited about it, but I stop myself. I don’t think I can bear to hear about it.
Instead, I blurt out something I know he will want to hear.
“I changed my major.”
He freezes and stares at me with his mouth hanging open. “You did?”
“Well, sort of. I added English as a minor. Apparently, it was enough for me to apply for that grant. Not sure it makes up for how many more classes I have to pay for,” I add with a laugh. “But I like my literature classes. And my new professor thinks I’m pretty good too.”
I notice the way his jaw clenches, and I smile to myself.
Making him jealous was always my favorite.
“I’m proud of you,” he says, looking at the ground and scratching the back of his neck.
“Thanks,” I reply softly.
“And you and Jax…you’ve worked things out?”
I let out a scoff. “God, no. He’s ghosting me again, so I think he might have changed his mind about wanting to be a dad.”
Lucas does his best to tone down his reaction, but I can see the way his eyes roll. He shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the way they’re clenched.
“You’re better off without him,” he says.
“Yeah, I know.”
We stare at each other for a moment, and I can’t help but feel like he wants to say something else, but he hesitates.
“Sadie…” he starts.
“Sadie, honey!” my mom calls from the door, and I turn to find her waving at me. “People are leaving. You should come say goodbye.”
“I’ll be right there,” I reply. Turning back to Luke, I force myself to back away when what I really want is to run into his arms. “I should go.”
He clears his throat. “Yeah.” Then, with a quick shake of his head, he adds, “Wait. I brought you something.” He holds up the package in his hand. It’s shaped like a book, no surprise.
“Thanks.”
After another moment of hesitation, he takes a step back.
So I do, too.
It feels like a mile.
Then he steps closer to me again, and my heart picks up speed. “Can I call you later?”
I open my mouth to reply. Yes. Please . But then I remember why I left in the first place.
“You’re still leaving, though…” I reply sadly.
“It’s complicated,” he replies, and I just nod in understanding.
“I’m sure it is.” Nodding, I take a step back. “It was good to see you.”
He surrenders, letting his hands fall to his sides. “You too, Miss Green.”
A buzz of warmth shoots down to my stomach at the sound of him calling me that. No matter how much I want to stay here with him, I pull myself away.
It feels like the hardest step I’ve ever taken, but at the end of the day, I’m proud of myself. I’m finally advocating for the love I think I deserve. He should be proud of me, too.
Even if it costs us everything.