Chapter 47
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
Donovan
I cut my trip to Boston short because I sense that something isn’t right in Delia’s world.
That concern stems from the fact that she hasn’t returned any of my phone calls and her two word response to the countless text messages I’ve sent her over the course of the past twenty four hours was curt.
I glance at my phone to read the short exchange again.
Donovan: I’m worried about you, Delia. Please let me know how you are.
Delia: I’m fine.
I followed that up immediately with a call, knowing that she was literally cradling her phone in her hands, but it went unanswered, as did every text I’ve sent since.
I even reached out to Matt to see if he was in panic mode because of something happening with his sister, but he was handling a work emergency and didn’t have time to get into anything beyond telling me that everything was great back in Manhattan expect for the broken leg on the schnauzer he was about to cast.
I exit the rideshare I took from the airport and step onto the sidewalk outside of my home.
As tempted as I was to go directly to Delia’s penthouse from the airport, I didn’t. I couldn’t. I made her a promise that I wouldn’t show up unexpectedly, and I intend to keep every promise I ever made to the woman.
My plan is to do that forever if she’ll allow it and I want it to reach beyond the scope of my role as the father of her baby and her “f un ” fuck partner.
If this short trip to Boston taught me anything it’s that I never want to be away from her again.
The lure that has repeatedly taken me to that city in recent years is strong, but my feelings for Delia far surpass that. I love her. If I doubted that in the least before I boarded the plane headed out of New York, I don’t now.
I glance down when I feel my phone vibrate in the pocket of my suit jacket. I tear it out as quickly as I can, hoping beyond hope that it’s Delia wanting to talk to me.
It’s not.
It’s my mom.
Her life in this city was marred by so much pain that as soon as I graduated with my master’s degree she took off in search of a spot on this planet that would offer her happiness.
A two week vacation to the wilds of Montana has extended into more than a decade of happiness with a man who adores her.
My father couldn’t be that man for her, but Barry Neagle is. A retired rancher and lover of nature, he’s given my mom a place to land that involves endless love and admiration.
I’m happy for her and even though I haven’t had the opportunity to visit her in more than a year, I’ll change that once the baby arrives. I want her to meet her grandchild as soon as possible.
“Hey, Mom, “ I answer the call on the second ring. “How are you?”
“I’m almost perfect,” she answers my question the same way she always does. “Are you?”
I was until something shifted between Delia and me, so I spin my answer to reflect what I hope is still my reality. “I’m happier than ever.”
“Really, Donovan?” Curiosity edges her tone. “What’s going on?”
I know she’s expecting one answer, and I wish to fuck I could give her that, but I can’t. At least not yet, so I sigh. “I just got back from a conference.”
“Oh.”
I can almost feel her hope evaporating over the line, so I take the conversation on a new path. “How’s your garden looking, Mom?”
There isn’t a distraction big enough to steal her attention away from the missing piece of her heart, but my question does lure an answer out of her. “There’s nothing quite like eating vegetables you’ve grown. If you came to visit, you’d find that out in person.”
“I will,” I offer the same vague promise I always do.
My presence there in her place of solace will come with as much pain as happiness. My face is a reminder of a loss so profound that she can barely speak of it.
“I hope so,” she whispers. “I just wanted to check in on you.”
That’s the cue that she needs to go, so I lean into that. “I’m good, Mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her voice cracks. “Take care, okay?”
“I will,” I close my eyes as I say the words. “You too, Mom.”
Donovan: I’m home, Delia. I’m here if you need to talk, or if you just want a big bowl of berries.
I reread the text message that I sent Delia thirty minutes ago.
I’m not surprised that she hasn’t responded to it. It’s nearing eleven now and if there’s one thing I know about the first trimester of a pregnancy, it’s that sleep is a necessity.
I learned that fact and many more from the book I picked up at a shop at the airport before I boarded my flight to Boston.
It’s obvious that the author of the book wrote it for expectant parents, but with an emphasis on the pregnant partner. I soaked up as much knowledge as I could since I spent hours reading it. I want Delia to feel as supported as I can and that means I need to have a thorough understanding of everything she’s going through and what I can do to help her.
I drop the towel that’s been wrapped around my waist to the floor before I tug on a pair of black boxer briefs along with jeans.
The shower I had was badly needed. I stood under the hot water letting it beat down on me as I closed my eyes and wished for a future that I fear is slipping out of my grasp.
I’m pissed at myself for going to Boston. It may have cost me the woman I love.
The sound of my doorbell ringing fills not only the room, but it sounds an alarm on my phone, too.
I scoop it up and open the doorbell app, expecting it to be the delivery guy.
Since I haven’t eaten all day, I ordered a large pepperoni pizza. It’s something I never do, but hunger will only serve to make sleep even more difficult than I already know it will be, and I need to rest.
I need to do that so I can face tomorrow with a clear mind and a solid mission. I want to find Delia and talk to her. I have to understand what’s changed and what I can do to fix it.
I take the stairs down to the main level two at a time.
By the time I’m at the door, the bell is ringing again. “I’m here.”
I don’t say it loud enough for the delivery person to hear it through the door, so I repeat the words as soon as I swing it open, “I’m here.”
A young woman is standing in front of me with an insulated red bag in her hands. Her gaze trails over my bare chest. “Pizza for one?”
I glance past her to a dark SUV idling by the curb in front of my home. The back door flies open and one leg appears followed by the rest of the woman I’m crazy about.
Delia shoots me a glance and even with just the light from the street lamp illuminating her face, I see pain there. I see questions that I know only I have answers for.
“It’s for two actually,” I tell the woman in front of me. “It looks like the woman of my dreams will be joining me.”