I’m only half paying attention because I’m staring out the window, wondering where Zander is right now and if he’s okay. I want so badly to message Beau and ask where they are and how he’s doing.
My stomach twists, and I have no idea what conversation is going on around me. It could be about pictures of me pregnant hitting the media for all I know. I haven’t even looked at my phone to see the fallout of my impulsive decision.
But I don’t regret it. I couldn’t live like that anymore. I couldn’t live in secret, hiding all the time. I don’t care if paps bother me. I don’t care if they know. I don’t care about anything except what I’ve lost.
I know that’s probably naïve of me. Zander would think I’m being foolish. But at this point, I can’t find it in myself to care.
I run my hands over my stomach, thinking about how I’m ever going to make this work with him. How I’ll ever do normal drop-offs and pick-ups for our son with him and not think to myself, could we have made it work? We could have had one hell of a life together.
I’ll still want Zander every time he comes to pick up our son. Or will he send Beau because he doesn’t have the guts to look me in the eye? Will Uncle Beau be the go-between? Maybe we’ll never actually be face-to-face again.
I’ll probably just see pictures of Zander online here and there. Will he try to keep our son locked up as well?
A hand rests on my leg. I look over at my mom. She shakes her head as if she knows my thoughts are spinning out of control, and I’m moving ten paces forward instead of staying in the here and now.
Once the SUV pulls up to my parents’ house on the ranch, we all file out. DeSoto’s clearly been instructed to stay with me until further instruction.
My mom raises her hand at him. “Okay, DeSoto. You’re staying here, and I’m taking my daughter with me.”
DeSoto looks at my mom, knowing there’s no arguing with her, and he nods. But I have no doubt he’ll be hopping in his own UTV and following a couple yards back.
“Mom, I don’t want to go anywhere. I just want to go to my bed and lie down,” I say.
“Well, I’m sorry, Romy. Everybody has to do things they don’t want to do. You’re getting in the UTV, and we’re going to Daisy Hill.”
Lottie laughs behind me. “What analogy are you gonna use for her, Mom?”
My mom shakes her head. “Get in, Romy. It’s time.”
“What does that mean? It’s time?” I look back at Lottie.
“It’s the weed talk. You’re gonna get the weed talk.” Lottie grins.
“But I didn’t do anything wrong. Are you suggesting I did?” I cross my arms and rest them on my bump.
Lottie shrugs. “Can you tell us one thing we were talking about on the ride back?” She cringes as though she’s sorry, but she’s taking Mom’s side on this one.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.
So I climb into the UTV, knowing my mom won’t let up. I’ll have her stupid talk, then I’m going home to wallow.
Chapter Forty-Five
Romy
We drive to Daisy Hill—the cemetery where all my ancestors who’ve passed are buried. The daisies don’t grow on the hill this time of year, which always makes me a little sad. As if I needed any help with that today.
We walk up the path. It’s already been cleared of few inches of snow. Mom must have sent my dad ahead, knowing this was our destination.
She holds my hand as we walk up and opens the small white gate of the fence that surrounds the cemetery. Even in the dead of winter, someone has placed fresh daisies on my aunt’s grave. I wonder if my Uncle Bruce comes here every day and what it must be like for him to live his life without her.
My mom walks over to her parents’ grave and sits on the bench. There’s a blanket over the seat. The second sign that she’s already had conversations with someone about setting this up.
“Okay, Mom, so what am I? Lottie’s a weed, and Bennett is a Jack Russell. What am I?”
She rolls her eyes. “You guys are relentless. I’m just trying to make your lives better.”
“All right, I’m just kidding.” I pat her leg.
