Chapter 11 Nova
nova
Embarrassment didn’t cover how I felt about last night.
It was deeper—shame, horror at how I’d acted.
I couldn’t do this. Whatever this was with Ollie, it was too complicated.
I needed to step back. My life was already a mess, but when he called Luna and she talked me down from the ledge, I knew I needed a big change.
I couldn’t keep dragging her into it either. She shouldn’t have to worry about me. I loved her like a sister, maybe even more, but she didn’t need to constantly worry about me, and with the peach coming, I needed to get a grasp on my emotions.
When I woke up early, the house was quiet, and thankfully, Ollie wasn’t up.
There was no coffee in the kitchen, so I slipped into my clothes—thankfully, Luna had packed my favorite jeans and an oversized sweater—and headed toward the main house.
I couldn’t sort things out with Ollie, but that didn’t mean I had to avoid his parents.
I carefully pushed open the backdoor, the same one we’d gone through yesterday. His mom and dad were already at the kitchen table, their gazes lifting as I stepped inside.
“Oh, hi.” I waved awkwardly. “There’s no coffee, and Ollie’s still asleep, so I thought I’d see if I could make a cup here.”
I hugged my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling stupid for coming.
Before I could retreat, his mom shot up from her chair, and his dad pulled another out for me.
“Sit, please,” he said warmly.
I nodded gratefully. “If it’s no trouble. I can make it myself if—”
His mom squeezed my shoulders gently. “Not a bother at all. We made extra, hoping you two might stop by.”
The kindness in her voice tugged at something deep in my chest. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this, this small moment of warmth.
I sat down, and Mrs. Stone handed me a steaming cup of coffee along with a plate of jam and scones.
“From the bakery in town.” She smiled.
I thanked her and grabbed one, the buttery scent filling the air.
As I took a small bite, Mr. Stone looked at me with a curious smile. “So, are you and Ollie dating?”
“Stop it.” His wife chided him, swatting him with the newspaper she had been reading.
I laughed nervously, shaking my head. “No, we’re not dating. I-uh . . . recently got out of something serious.”
“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Stone said, her tone maternal. “What a lot of changes you’ve had. I’m sure your parents are worried sick.”
I paused, the words catching in my throat, but I forced myself to answer. “My mom passed away a few months ago. I moved here the day after her funeral,” I whispered. “And, uh . . . no dad.”
Their expressions shifted, a look of quiet understanding passing between them. Mrs. Stone stood up and moved to me, her arms outstretched.
“And the baby?” she asked softly.
My jaw dropped. “How?”
She gave my cheek a gentle pinch, her smile kind but knowing. “A mother always knows.”
I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The tears spilled over, and I broke, sobbing right there at their kitchen table. Mrs. Stone crouched down beside me, wrapping me in a firm, comforting hug.
“You’ve been through so much, sweet,” she murmured, her voice steady and soothing. “You’re always welcome here. I’m no replacement for your mum, but I’m here.”
Her words cracked something open inside me, and I clung to her as if she could somehow hold all the broken pieces together.
When I finally pulled away, I wiped my face with trembling hands, glancing between them. “Ollie doesn’t know. I haven’t really told anyone.”
They both nodded without hesitation.
“We’re a vault here,” Mr. Stone said.
I swallowed hard and looked down at the table. “I was married,” I whispered. “He’s . . . an alcoholic.”
Mrs. Stone reached out, her hand settling on my arm with the kind of comfort I didn’t realize I was yearning for.
“You don’t need to share anything you’re not ready to, sweetheart.
We’re here. If you need advice, help, or even someone to sit with, I’m here.
I know a thing or two about babies—I had one a long time ago,” she added with a nostalgic smile.
As if struck by inspiration, she stood suddenly, heading toward another room.
Mr. Stone leaned in with a knowing smile. “Watch.”
I sniffled, letting out a small, watery laugh despite myself. Moments later, she returned, holding a ball of green yarn.
“I just bought this yesterday,” she said. “It’s kismet. I’ll start on a little blanket today.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I shook my head quickly, overwhelmed by her kindness.
“Oh, sweet, I don’t have to. I want to. Babies deserve soft things, and so do their mums.”
Before I could say anything, I heard Ollie’s voice behind me. “What’re we talking about?”
I turned around quickly, wiping at my face with the back of my hand as Mrs. Stone held up the yarn proudly.
“Yarn,” she said with a bright smile.
“And coffee,” Mr. Stone added, pulling out a chair for Ollie like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ollie strode over and slipped into the chair next to mine. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, couldn’t meet his eyes after everything. Instead, I focused on the coffee cup in front of me, gripping it tightly.
Mr. Stone started chatting about their plans to visit London soon, filling the silence.
Mrs. Stone chimed in, laughing softly. “I’d much prefer to visit her though.” She nodded in my direction.
I smiled as I glanced up at her.
“I’d prefer to visit her, too,” Ollie added.
His hand shifted, reaching toward my thigh, but it hovered there for a brief moment before he pulled it back.
“We should get going,” I said abruptly, the tension in my chest too much to bear.
Ollie pointed to the neatly packed bags by the corner. “I grabbed yours, but if you need anything else—”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, Mum. Dad.” He stood, walking over to his parents and hugging them both tightly.
I followed, hugging Mr. Stone first, his embrace warm and sturdy.
Mrs. Stone pulled me into a tighter hug, her arms firm but gentle, and whispered, “Any appointment you need, I’ll be right there. You tell me.”
“Thank you.”
I managed not to cry, though the lump remained lodged in my throat.
As I stepped outside, I finally made eye contact with Ollie. He looked devastatingly beautiful.
But there was something more—something raw. He looked tired. Worried.
I shook my head, trying to push away whatever emotion was clawing at my chest. Without saying a word, I opened the passenger door, climbed in, and closed my eyes, hoping that if I pretended to sleep, we wouldn’t have to talk.
“Nova, we really need to—”
I held up a hand. “No, we really don’t need to do anything.”
“I’m worried.”
I grabbed my bag from the back of his car and slung it over my shoulder.
“Thank you, but really, I’m okay.” I glanced over my shoulder to my apartment.
“Thank you for bringing me. It really was lovely out there.” I hope I get to visit again.
It was a thought better left unsaid. “I’m going through some shit, and I need to work it out myself.
I don’t date coworkers. I don’t sleep with coworkers and I can’t . . . mingle.”
Ollie nodded, though I wasn’t convinced he really understood the depth of my words. I couldn’t do this. Not that I didn’t want to because clearly I did and so did my body, but I couldn’t.
“Alright. Well, I’ll be around.”
“Thanks again,” I replied quietly. “For everything.”
I turned and walked away, not wanting to look at whatever expression he wore. Not wanting to finish this conversation like an adult. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and figure out what my next steps were.