Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Harper
I’m desperate to hold on to my anger, my rage.
It’s better than the other crap I’m feeling.
But then he says, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here for you and the baby both—today and in the future.”
And…it’s bullshit.
Maybe he believes it in this moment.
Maybe he wants it to be true as much as I do.
But eventually the shine is going to rub off and he’ll realize that sticking around isn’t exactly in his long-term plan.
And he’ll go.
And I’ll be alone.
The kind of love that Luna has, that Kailey and Faye have…it doesn’t exist for me.
Believe me, I’ve tried.
I look down at my feet, exhale slowly as I try to collect myself—
“I promise,” he murmurs, his tone going so gentle my heart convulses, my eyes fill with tears.
But I lock it down, blink back those tears.
I can’t have what Faye and Luna and Kailey have.
No matter how much I might want it.
“Right,” I say, rolling my shoulders as I lift my head, as I slap a smile on my face, as I force my gaze to his. But I can only hold it for a second before my eyes slide down to his shoulder and I force out in as even a voice as possible, “Of course you’ll be here.”
Then I can’t hold it together any longer, so I spin on my heel and head for the safety of my kitchen.
The safety of work.
There’s only the barest sound, the scuff of his shoe on the pavement, the soft exhale…
And suddenly, he’s in front of me, his hands coming to my face, cupping my cheeks, and I brace, expecting him to dig into the wound I’ve exposed, to pick at the vulnerability.
Or maybe to manipulate me with more promises, with kisses and touches that melt me despite my best intentions.
Instead, he just stares into my eyes for long enough that my panic begins to subside, that the sound of my heartbeat pounding along my eardrums begins to quiet, that the world begins to come back into focus.
Noises reappear—cars passing by, birds in the trees lining the street, a child’s laughter from the nearby park.
Leo’s steady breathing.
His scent, his strength.
He presses his lips to my forehead. “I’ll see you soon.”
And when he pulls back, it’s there in his eyes.
The resignation.
The distance.
He’s leaving.
God, it hurts.
But it hurts less than his hands falling away and him stepping back. It hurts less than watching him walk to his car, get in, and drive away.
“Way to go, Harp,” I whisper to the empty parking lot.
Or almost empty.
Because the bag of trash is still there.
I grunt as I lift it up and toss it into the dumpster…something that’s made easier because Leo tied the top.
Leo.
My eyes fill with tears again.
“Enough,” I whisper.
Then I go inside, wash my hands, and do what I’m good at.
I work.
I plan.
I hide.
The doorbell goes, and my heart leaps even though I tell it to chill.
Because, for as savagely as I’ve tried to stifle the thread of hope inside me, to tell myself it’s dumb, I can’t forget the look in Leo’s eyes, the softness in his I’ll see you soon.
And it’s why I really want it to be him at the front door.
For soon to be right now.
Stupid, huh?
Yup.
But that doesn’t mean I’m going to allow that stupidness to rule my life.
I can feel all the feels, can find it impossible to stifle that little bud of hope inside my heart—that maybe there’s a slender possibility that I can be like Luna and Faye and Kailey and find what they’ve found—but I’m not going to let that desire ruin my life.
Or my baby’s.
Recentered, I head for the door.
It could be the Pope on the other side for all that I care.
So why does disappointment rush through me when I see Luna and her very pregnant belly on the other side?
She grins and leans in to hug me. “Hey, girlie pop.”
“Hey,” I say, the hug soothing the rough edges of my mood. “Did I forget we were meeting up?”
“No.” She breezes into my apartment. “I’m being incredibly rude and dropping by without warning.
” She sniffs then moans. “Please tell me that smell is something I can be even ruder about because I am suddenly desperate to taste it.” Her ponytail swings as she spins back my direction.
“Of course, if it’s for an event, ignore me. ” Her lip juts out. “And my sad face.”
I grin, despite the whirlwind of emotions that have gripped me since this morning, and close and lock the door, following her down the hall and into my kitchen.
She’s leaning over the pot of soup and inhaling greedily.
“It’s not exactly summer fare,” I say, moving close and gently nudging her out of the way so I can add the final ingredients—the fire-roasted corn, the shredded chicken, the cotija cheese. “But I’m having a salad with it, so I figure it evens out.”
She inhales again. “I don’t care what season it is, that smells delicious.” She clasps her hands together and turns puppy dog eyes in my direction, bouncing lightly on her toes. “Can I have some? Pretty please?”
“As if that were ever in question,” I say as I snag two bowls from the cabinet, along with plates for the salad. “I feed people.” A shrug. “It’s what I do.”
“I’m thrilled to be here to benefit from it,” she says as I add the fresh herbs and start dishing up the soup.
But she doesn’t stand around watching me work.
She goes to the fridge and pulls out the salad, placing heaping servings for both of us on the plates. Then she’s carrying them over to the island, setting them on the placemats, returning for napkins and silverware.
“What are you drinking?” she asks, retrieving two cups from the cabinet.
“I have some fresh strawberry lemonade in fridge, that sound good to you?”
“That sounds perfect.” Then she’s grabbing the pitcher, pouring two glasses, and bringing those over.
I meet her there with our soup and the next few minutes are spent with us filling our bellies.
“So,” she says when she’s on her second bowl of soup and we’re no longer resembling vacuum cleaners.
“So what?” I prompt when she doesn’t go on.
“So…Leo?”
I make a face and she lights up like a Christmas tree. “Tell me everything. Are we shit-talking Leo or do we like him now? Please say shit-talking because I’m feeling a lot of feminine rage towards men at the moment.”
“Why?”
“Why else?” She scowls. “They’re men and they make shitty jokes and denigrate women on social media and—” She waves a hand before settling it on her belly and absently rubbing it.
“Don’t get me started. I probably won’t stop and then I’ll be ranting at you about the dude who looks like a big toe acting like the gorgeous female doctor he’s dating is beneath him. ”
“He looks like a toe?”
She tsks. “Clearly you’re behind on episodes of our favorite show.”
I am.
Because Leo and I…
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Watch it and then tell me if you don’t think he looks like a toe.” She winces and rubs at her belly.
“Are you okay?”
“Yuppers.” She smiles and waves her hand at me again. “Being this pregnant is no joke.”
“You’re past your due date, right?” I ask, seizing on the topic so I don’t have to confess what I’ve been up to with Leo.
“Sure am. My induction date looms.” She tilts her head to the side. “So…”
“Your Luna Detectors are triggered, aren’t they?”
“Also, yuppers.” She grins. “Mostly because Leo came by the house and asked me to check in on you.” Her face gentles. “Said you’d had a rough day and might not want to see him right now.”
That fragile bud of hope I’ve been doing my best to trample explodes outward, growing like a magical beanstalk, stealing my breath, my words, maybe a touch of my sanity—
Luna gasps and stands, saving me from having to come up with something to say.
Because her water has just broken.