29 #2
“What the hell happened, Mitch? You went off to Oakwhite a team player and came back this introspective old man?” A smirk hints at the corner of his mouth, telling me he’s not that upset, and I laugh.
“I’m the oldest thirty-one-year-old guy you know,” I joke, cutting into my filet mignon.
“True.” He chews slowly, thinking about what to say next. “I’m just… shocked. This isn’t how I thought our meeting would go.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. But I hope you understand this is what I need.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he replies, taking another bite.
I’ve known Phil long enough to tell when he’s actually pissed, and I’m happy to see that this isn’t one of those times.
“Ah, come on, Phil.” I raise my water with a chuckle. “You know I’ll always love you. And you better come visit once I’m all settled.”
He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile, then clinks his glass to mine. “Shut up. Eat your food. This lunch is costing me a fortune.”
Max
“There’d better be extra chocolate glazed in there,” I say as I open the door.
Zayne looks insulted, standing in the hall holding a box of donuts. “Who do you take me for? As if I’d show up without.”
He comes in, shutting the door behind him as I crack open the box and steal a donut. The sticky treat floods me with delight as I lift it to my mouth and settle onto the couch, my feet tucked cozily beneath me.
“So, what’s going on?” Zayne asks, setting the box on the coffee table. He bites into a crueler, and crumbs fall onto his olive-green T-shirt, which he hurries to scoop up.
“I don’t know… I guess I’m sick.” I polish off my donut, then pull a second one out of the box. But the one I ate makes a U-turn in my stomach, so I throw the new one back in the box and take a sip of my ginger ale instead.
“You’re never sick.” He eyes me suspiciously. “And you definitely never miss work.”
“Things happen.” I shrug.
“Things? Okay.” He dusts his hands off, then faces me, his handsome face serious. “And do these things have anything to do with a certain boy who left town?”
“Which boy?” I avoid his eyes, grab the remote, but Zayne snatches it from me. “What the hell?”
“You’re not ignoring me, Max. Start talking.”
“About what? The weather?”
“Something weird is going on with you. You’ve been distant. And now you’re taking time off?” He shakes his head, his eyes swimming with concern. “Talk to me.”
“I’m being distant? You’re one to talk,” I scoff. “Care to share who you’ve been daydreaming about these past few weeks?”
“You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” The corner of his mouth lifts, dimpling his cheek, and then tilts his head to the side. “Honestly, hon’, I’m worried about you.”
“Well, don’t be. I’m fine. And I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Oh, it’s one of those problems.” He shoves off the couch and walks to the kitchen. “Let me get something to go with these donuts. Still have that Bailey’s?”
“No!” I snap, then drop my voice. “No Bailey’s.”
“Ohhkay… How about some wine, then?”
“No wine.”
“You? Refusing alcohol?” Zayne’s stare doesn’t drop as he retakes his seat. “Something is definitely not right.” He leans over, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead, but I jerk away.
“Please drop it.” I fight back the sudden tears, but they’re dangerously close to spilling. “It’s just a stomach bug. That’s all. It’s nothing serious.”
He slides closer, wrapping an arm around me, and I drop my head onto his shoulder. “All good. We’ll chill and eat donuts then.”
The affectionate, gentle tone of his voice makes it impossible for me to hold back, and the tears come out.
Zayne pulls a tissue box out from under the coffee table and hands it over without releasing me.
Gently rocking me side to side, he tucks my head beneath his chin and comforts me in a way that’s uniquely his.
“It’s all too much,” I say. He deserves to hear what’s happening, even if admitting it seems too demanding. “I’m terrified that if I say it out loud, it’ll make it real and then…”
“What, like Beetlejuice?” he jokes, making me giggle with a sniffle.
“Yeah. Exactly like that.”
“Okay, so don’t say it out loud. Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me. I’ll hold you as long as you need me to.”
“But who’s at the inn?”
“Celia.”
“She can’t handle—”
“She’s more than capable, and Hunter’s keeping her company. They’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”
“So long as they don’t wind up fucking in the office, I guess that’s okay,” I offer, earning his laugh. I run my arm around his waist. “Thank you for being here, Zee. I’m not sure what I’d do without you.”
“I’m sure you’d survive. You always do.” He kisses the top of my head, but it reminds me of Mitch and sets off another round of tears. “For real, what can I do?” he asks between my sobs. “If you want more snacks, I’ll go out and—”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt, squeezing my eyes shut.
Zayne remains completely quiet, still rocking me.
I look up. “I said I’m pregnant.”
“Mm-hmm,” he replies a moment later, his tone neutral. Serious. “I heard you.”
“How are you not shocked?”
He shrugs. “I had a hunch. You’re nauseous. Moody. Missing work. You refusing alcohol sort of confirmed it.”
I sniffle back more tears, but he brings me against his chest again, hugging me tight.
“Shh, Bella. We’ve got this.”
“My lifesaver.”
“Always.”
Pulling myself together as best I can, I wipe my eyes with a tissue. “I’m sort of losing my mind here.”
“I can imagine. Do you know what you want to do?” He may not speak the words, but I hear what he’s really asking.
I love kids and always have. Some of my favorite moments this summer have involved babysitting Ella, Celia’s kid.
But when I’ve thought about being a mom, way down the line, I pictured myself married, or at the very least in a relationship with the father.
Not estranged, unsure if we’ll ever even speak again.
“I’d like to be a mom, I just never thought it would happen like this. But I’m keeping it. That’s a no-brainer.”
Zayne nods. “And what about Mitch?”
My lips open, but the words don’t come out. Or rather, I’m unsure how to put them into a coherent sentence.
“You know you need to tell him, right?” Zayne asks, handing me another tissue.