Chapter Twenty One
Caroline
The white unmarked envelope still burns a hole in the back zippered pocket of my purse.
I always imagined that I’d have too much dignity to even entertain the idea of being paid off— no matter the circumstance.
But that was before I was in this position.
Divorced, broke, and pregnant. Grant and his family have made it abundantly clear that he wants no involvement in this child’s life.
While I have not responded to the NDA or cashed in on the hush money, I am kind of enjoying making that whole family sweat with my lingering silence in the meantime.
I am doing what I do best by avoiding the issue and trying to pretend that this isn’t happening, but the reality is that this money could definitely help me to provide a stable life for my little one.
I would be lying if I said it wasn’t tempting and giving me a bit of hope.
For now, I keep my head down and drown myself in work to keep my mind off of things.
I haven’t been back to Chicago since my last get together with the girls and I ultimately decided to keep the news to myself.
I also haven’t heard from my chi-town friends since then, but I’ve noticed that they definitely have had time to post about all of their outings in their stories.
My growing belly is starting to show now and the townsfolk have started taking notice with their whispers.
Luckily, I haven’t seen any more cameramen sneaking tabloid photos to spread word to the city.
I’m probably old news to them now, but I also wouldn’t be surprised if Eleanor paid them off to help keep this hidden.
For now, I’ll let the small town talk, as long as it doesn’t get back to the people of my old life before I get a chance to handle things.
It helps that the cooler weather is picking up and I can live in baggy hoodies this fall.
It’s weird thinking about it like that, when I once spoke of this place as my ‘old life’.
But I have somehow grown comfortable here in accepting this change of pace for a slower life.
I’m not sure if it’s the hormones or what, but being back has made me miss my family and I am grateful to have a support system close by for when the baby comes.
∞∞∞
I pop into town to stop at the country store for a few essentials for the weekend.
First things first: Tums. Those chewy little things are the only thing keeping the acid reflux at bay in the evening.
Turning down a row in search of antacids, I try my best to maneuver through the line of pharmacy customers blocking the aisle.
As I locate the section I’m looking for, I’m confronted by a full-head of dark hair and an unmistakable build in front of me.
“Reid?” I quietly ask, tapping his left shoulder from behind. He turns, startled at first until he recognizes me.
“Oh! Hey Caroline.” He seems to light up, despite the somber, tired look on his face. I’m thankful that the awkwardness of our alcohol induced evening has worn off, but my belly can’t help but flutter at his voice. Was that the baby or butterflies?
“Hey, how’s your dad doing?” I gently ponder, hoping not to step on any toes. Mr. Perry was transferred to an inpatient unit after he came into the ER and I haven’t heard from anyone since. We step back out of the pharmacy line and into the aisle to talk more.
“Oh, he’s doing okay. He’s back home now and just trying to get comfortable with where to go from here… Thanks for asking. How are… you doing?” He calmly responds, glancing down at my waist at the end of his question.
“Oh, you know. Just a single, knocked up, divorced girl in her twenties who’s moved back in with her parents. Life is swell, nothing to see here.” I shrug and bitterly try to invoke some humor to the situation, though it’s all true.
He’s not sure how to respond, but finally mutters out, “So you’re staying here in town then?” Ignoring the rest of my self-depricating statement.
“For the foreseeable future, it appears,” I explain matter-of-factly.
“Well, let me know if you need anything. You know where to find me,” Reid says, much less harsh than his recent tones with me. I can’t tell if he feels bad for me, is just tired, or is being sincerely nice.
We leave it at that and go our separate ways. How long can we ignore the tension between us and keep having these silly small-town run-ins without addressing the last ten years of pent up hostility?