“But it’s never happened since you got pregnant,” I say, putting my palm flat against her tiny baby bump. “And it’s okay to be emotional. Everyone here understands. Especially me.”
“I don’t want to cry,” she says. “Not today. Once you’ve left for Europe, I’ll have plenty of time to cry.”
“Ah, shit.” I wrap my arms around her.
I fucking hate the thought that I’m going to make her cry—even though I’m only leaving to go to work. And she’s coming to see me in just under a month.
“It’s okay—you know almost everything makes me cry these days,” she says. “Now come on, let’s enjoy the party. I’m fine. Really. I’ve been dealing with this for more than six years. I think it’s harder on Dolly than it is for me. They’ve been best friends since kindergarten. She misses her terribly.”
“I can only imagine.” I look over to where Tricia is now talking animatedly to one of the other residents. The truth is, it doesn’t matter when she thinks this is, as long as she recognizes Summer. They’re probably going to lose that recognition at some point as well, so for now, we need to appreciate the small wins.
“Shall we serve some cake?” Dolly asks. “Can we have Tate and Summer up here, please?”
We walk to the table where a beautiful two-tier wedding cake is waiting. It’s covered in lavender roses—Summer’s favorite—and there’s a guitar that looks a lot like the one I use on stage on top.
“The guitar is edible,” Dolly whispers. “I had my friend Rita, who does cake decorating, make it out of fondant or something.”
“This is incredible. Thank you, Dolly.” I lean over and kiss her cheek.
“Well, all that money you sent—I figured we should put it to good use.”
We cut the cake together, my hand over hers, and then I take a small piece and pop it in her mouth while she does the same to me. Dolly’s taking pictures, one of the nurses is pouring what looks like sparkling grape juice, and Tricia is sitting in a chair off to the side. Close to what’s happening but not close enough to interrupt.
“I have a surprise for you two,” one of the older gentlemen named Earl says. “Dolly told me that ‘Loving Her Was Easier’ is your song, so I learned it and if you wanted to dance, I’d be honored to serenade you.”
“Oh Earl.” Summer smiles warmly. “That’s a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”
“Shall we?” I ask, holding out my hand and pulling her against me.
She moves into my arms easily just as Earl plays the opening notes. He’s a little flat on a few chords and his voice is off-key when he sings the chorus, but it doesn’t matter. Even I couldn’t have thought of something as thoughtful and romantic as dancing to our song.
Our song.
It’s been less than three months and not only do we have a song, we’re married. Having a baby. Getting ready to start our lives together.
We skipped over a bunch of shit to get here—technically, we don’t even live together yet—but I can’t think of a single regret.
Chapter 30
Summer
As I predicted, there were a lot of tears when Tate left.
After nearly two weeks together it was hard to say goodbye.
Even though I know I’m going to see him in a month.
The good news is that I’m too busy to cry for long because my pie-baking business has grown by leaps and bounds. I’ve actually cut one day of my schedule at the diner so I can spend another day baking.
I’m feeling better now too, but carrying heavy trays of food is only going to get harder as time goes on. The money from the pies makes up for one less day waiting tables, but I’ll need to make a lot more before I can quit completely. I’m really having fun with it, though, and it feels good to focus on doing something I enjoy more than waitressing.
By the last week of September, I’m sixteen weeks pregnant and the only clothes that fit are items like leggings. October in London will be cool during the day and chilly at night, so leggings will work for most days. It’s finding tops to go with them that’s a battle. I’m struggling to decide if I want clothes that are tight-fitting, showing off my baby bump, or if I’d rather buy looser fits that will disguise it.
For some reason I’m self-conscious about being pregnant.
Probably because my baby daddy—I’m still getting used to calling him my husband—is this gorgeous rockstar that has women fawning over him every night.
The fact that this was basically a marriage of convenience probably plays a part in it too. He only married me because I got knocked up, and while I won’t deny there’s a strong connection between us, I don’t know what that means for the future. If I were to have a miscarriage, would he stay married to me?
