23. Sutton
SUTTON
“Thanks for letting me stay here,” I hiccup as I sit up on the bed in the guest room of Savannah and Julian’s weekend home in Everhope.
Savannah sits on the edge of the bed next to me fluffing pillows, because apparently, I’m a fragile piece of glass.
“I needed to escape the city, and since my parents sold their house, I didn’t really—”
Savannah is quick to touch my arm to stop me, her face sympathetic. “You’re always welcome here. You know that. Need anything? More tissues?”
I use the back of my hand to wipe away a few lone tears that drip down my face. “No, it’s okay. I think I’m finally taking a breath.”
The entire drive out of the city, I was in a quiet comatose state. Savannah just let me be, didn’t attempt to prod me for information or what I’m feeling. Real friends do that; they wait patiently.
A soft knock captures my attention, and I see Elodie at the bedroom door. “I heard you might need a team while you bawl your eyes out.”
She isn’t wrong.
Being alone isn’t going to help me right now. At least not to process thoughts logically.
Elodie comes to join us, and I have to ask the obvious. “You came out to Everhope, too?”
She shrugs. “I was going to come anyway. My parents need help clearing out the garage, and they always want to see Lola,” she lies, but I appreciate that she made the trip.
Looking between them, I might as well dive into it.
“What the fuck? My mind is twisted, and I can’t seem to understand how this is all a pure coincidence.
He needed a baby by the end of the year when he turns thirty-eight, and look…
” I use my hands to display myself. “He is having a baby by the end of the year.”
Both of my friends wince as I explain.
“He didn’t get you pregnant on purpose,” Savannah says, firm in her conviction.
“The odds of his suspected plan actually working in his favor are small,” Elodie adds.
Sighing, I’m frustrated with myself. “I don’t believe I’m pregnant on purpose, but the way his brother said it all freaked me out.
This is like the perfect piece of the puzzle for them all.
Still, I love Foster. I do.” I nip my lip between my teeth.
“I get to see sides of him none of you do, but it doesn’t change the fact that he missed telling me this very crucial information.
And he even believes that he could be capable of twisted games. ”
Savannah awkwardly scratches the back of her head. “That is true, and to be fair, this is a twisted situation, so you get the award on that front for things that have happened to us in the last year, but… it’s Foster.”
“You have every right to be pissed. This isn’t a little white lie or lack of information sharing.
It’s a big thing. More than. But if you established that you’re not pregnant on purpose, then focus on the lack of communication.
At the end of the day, he is your husband, and you two are welcoming a child into the world soon.
You owe it to yourselves to work through this,” Elodie shares her words of wisdom.
I look at her with my eyes swollen from this shitshow of an afternoon. “You do the Lord’s work, you know. Delivering the perspective that makes sense and is valid.”
She smiles proudly and flicks her hair behind her shoulders. “Why, thank you.”
“He says he didn’t want to stress me out, which is why he didn’t tell me, but that plan sure as hell failed. Why couldn’t he have thrown this little detail in months ago?”
“Would you have still reacted the same if he had?”
I purse my lips and take a few seconds to think about it. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”
Elodie begins to drag over the throw blanket from the end of the bed. “Look, he fucked up, and he knows it. Lesson learned and trust to probably be re-earned.” She starts to tuck me under the blanket as though it’s natural.
She’s been in complicated situations; if anything, she can relate more than Savannah could. “You and Hayes, it was a coincidence.”
Elodie nods with a soft smile. “Very much so. What are the odds of him ending up working at our company? Or that he walked back into my life? Coincidences do happen, Sutton. More than you think. Sometimes we can give credit to that. Not everything happens from our own doing.”
“Well, this is one hell of a fluke,” I comment, but more lightheartedly than anything. Perhaps, I’m calming. “I wish he had told me.”
Savannah gawks at me. “Well, he didn’t. Can’t turn back the clock, so we have to think forward. I’m going to play hard ball now.”
She’s right. Taking a deep breath, I prepare myself to come up with a plan.
“We are becoming parents soon, and we have a marriage that binds us together. I think of all the things, and the only thing that goes on the list of anger is his lack of judgment. I mean, in an overview, it doesn’t sound that bad. Right?” I search between them for reassurance.
They look to one another for a clue, then both throw on smiles and make agreement noises.
“It’s just… fuck Foster. I’m smarter than all of this. I don’t let anyone step all over me, yet here I am with him, having had some bizarre secret over my head this whole time. A truth he didn’t tell me. A means to an end.”
Savannah fluffs another pillow. “We hate to admit it. All of us, because we are pretty kickass women, but these guys bring out our vulnerable sides. That’s kind of how relationships work.
They’re like vampires who open a door to the part of us that we forget we have, then they suck the life right outta ya.
Kind of romantic when you think about it. ”
Scoffing a laugh, it makes a weird kind of sense. “That is exactly what Foster has done. Doesn’t mean I can’t be annoyed with him about it.”
Elodie grins. “Very true. Annoyed is better than angry. That’s promising. Couples who are in love bicker, couples who are in trouble bitterly argue. What do you think he’s doing right now?”
Puffing out a breath, I can already imagine it in my head. “Pacing the penthouse with a glass of scotch because he feels incredibly guilty.”
She squeezes my leg. “See? Not so bad on the scale. Remorse, love, and a hopeful future are all promising.”
The corner of my mouth begins to stretch because, in plain terms like that, I agree, and it is hopeful. “They are. I’ll hold on to that when I can’t sleep tonight.”
Savannah hops up off the bed, satisfied with how their pep talk has ended. “Good. I mean, we’ll still be a little salty with him at the next friends' dinner, but only for you. You should get some rest. I don’t want to sound cliché, but you are kind of pregnant and need to rest and take it easy.”
Elodie gives me a pained look. “She’s right.”
I nod because I give up physically. I’m about to move, but then I notice that I’m tucked in amongst blankets and fluffed pillows.
“You guys literally put me in a cocoon.”
“Don’t be ungrateful,” Savannah chides playfully. “It’s called nursing you back to reality, and we wanted you to be comfortable.”
Elodie laughs and snatches a cushion away from the mountain around me. “Enjoy it while you can.”
As I begin to adjust, I do feel the haze of exhaustion hitting me. I don’t have much left in me to cry about. “Okay. Good night.”
“Let me know if you need anything, I’m here for you,” Savannah reminds me.
But no way in hell am I interrupting her during the night. I can only imagine what their newlywed phase is like.
“And I can take you to Foxy Rox tomorrow for tea,” Elodie offers.
Cynically laughing to myself, I appreciate her optimism. “I’m not an idiot. Foster is going to show up tomorrow,” I say drowsily.
I don’t need to guess or hope. He will. Foster won’t let this go. He’ll stand before me until I listen or talk it all through. He’s giving me the night to process, but tomorrow, he won’t be so patient.
Vaguely, I hear them chuckle as they leave, and my heavy eyes close.
The next morning, I told Elodie to spend it with her family and told Savannah to visit her aunt at her restaurant.
I’d let her know if I hit rock bottom again.
In the meantime, I’m sitting in Foxy Rox to reflect on my thoughts again.
The playlist coming through the speakers is basically the perfect soundtrack to my current life.
Mazzy Star and a bucketload of other songs that are mellow and nonchalant.
But the setting is perfect for being with myself, ensuring I’m in a clear mind to talk with Foster. We haven’t had any communication since yesterday, but we don’t need to. He’ll find me. That’s just how it works. Plus, it’s Everhope. Not many places to look.
I’ve been staring aimlessly at my chai latte for a solid ten minutes, as though words will appear on the foamed milk. Occasionally, I glance out the window at Main Street to see happy families enjoying their Sunday, mostly heading down to the park by the river as it is farmers’ market day.
The opening of the door and the bell dinging instantly grabs my attention, and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t have a little hope that it was Foster, but it’s not. Instead, I spot Esme, my parents’ old neighbor.
She spots me, and her cheery smile is the opposite of my mood, but I’m not about to spill my current qualms about life.
“Hey there, I didn’t realize you were back in town this weekend.” She walks to my little table.
“Spontaneously,” I respond mundanely. She looks at me strangely, but I remember that I need to brush myself off as it’s a new day. “Uh.” I tuck some hair behind my ear. “Sorry. Pregnancy has been killing me on the sleep front.”
“It’s a full moon this weekend, so nobody is having a good time. Hence why I’m here and not at the market.”
“Oh yeah? I guess not to take photos?” I wonder since she’s a photographer. Actually, she takes a lot of boudoir pregnancy shoots; I should arrange that.
She shakes her head. “Nah, I’m selling pies.”
Instantly, I grin. “Pies.”
“Yep. The hobby that supports carb lovers.”
“Why aren’t you at your stall now?”
She grumbles. “This is because Steven from the coffee truck has royally pissed me off. No oat milk today. The audacity. So, here I am. Foxy Rox never fails us. Well, I gotta hurry. Take care.” She dashes away when she sees the counter is clear and the barista can take her order.
In the meantime, my smile stills when I begin to think of Foster. “Hey, Esme,” I call out, and she turns to look at me. “By any chance, are you selling coconut cream pie today?”
She snaps her fingers and smiles brightly. “Actually, yeah. I can’t believe I forgot to mention. I remember a while back when you were checking on your parents’ old house and you mentioned coconut cream pie, and I’ve been trying to bake them since. Finally got the recipe right.”
My brows rise.
Of course she did.
“Wow,” I reply softly. “Lucky that I’m here then.”
“Totally.” The barista grabs her attention and hands her a to-go cup. “Need to run.”
Nodding in understanding, I quickly request, “Can I order a pie, maybe two, even three? I’ll pick them up later.”
“Sure, I’ll put them to the side.”
“Thanks.” When she’s gone, my hand plants on my belly. “What are the chances, kiddo. It’s only pie, but it’s the little things, right?”
Accidents happen. It’s pure chance.
Coincidences happen. There is meaning connected.
Luck is pure fortune.
But choices? Those are ours to make.