I won’t give him the satisfaction.
The taxi’s unnecessary, because the shop is only two blocks from the restaurant, but I need the time alone for the tears and to regroup. I know Robin’s going to have a million questions for me when I get back. The first being something like, “You’re back already?” That alone will cue her to the fact that things took a bad turn with Nate.
“Shit,” I repeat to myself as I wipe off my face, knowing full well I’ve just dragged my mascara off my eyelashes and onto my cheeks.
It can’t be helped.
I see the flower shop through the windshield, and it’s too soon. I need more time, so I lean forward and ask the driver, “Can you drive around the block again?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Ugh. Ma’am? I hate being called ma’am.
No matter. That’s nothing compared to the news that Nate Black doesn’t want to know his child. Placing my palm on my stomach, I look down at him or her. “It’s going to be fine, little one. There’s so much love in my heart for you; we don’t need anyone else.” And Robin’s heart. Hers is filled to bursting for this baby. It’s just sad. I didn’t have a father growing up. He died when I was eight months old in a car accident. My mom did her best after that, and her best was definitely good enough because she was a wonderful mother.
Oh, shit. The tears are back with a vengeance. Thinking about my mom right now is not a good idea. Knowing my mom won’t get to meet her grandbaby is enough to put me over the edge. Leaning forward, I ask the driver to take me somewhere besides the flower shop. I want to go home. I need time alone. Robin will understand. I’ll send her a quick text as soon as I crawl into my bed so I can curl up into a ball and just, well, mope. Feel sorry for myself. I don’t do that often, but sometimes a person needs to wallow in self-pity. It helps us recognize everything good in life when we take time for contrasting days like today. Am I right or just making excuses?
Take today, for example. No, seriously, take it and shove it somewhere dark and dank. I don’t need days like this one—the shitstorm that was my lunch with Nate Black.
Holding back the new torrent of tears, I watch as the driver pulls up to my apartment building. I swipe my debit card in the little machine mounted to the front passenger seat, thank the driver, and slide out of the car.
Walking up the front steps of my building, I hear my phone chime. “I hope it’s not him.” Because I can’t take more of him right now.
Pulling my keys out of my purse along with my phone, I glance at the screen and see Robin’s name.
Robin:Why is Nate Black here with your lunch in to-go container?
What in the hell? He went back to my place of employment? To bring me my forgotten lunch?
“Grrrr.” Yep. I literally made that sound.
No matter. I can’t respond right this minute. I need to get upstairs, strip out of my uncomfortable jeans and too tight top—because I tried to dress sort of nice for this lunch, but those clothes are way too small now and maternity clothes haven’t made it into my wardrobe yet—and put on my comfy clothes. I’ll get into my bed, then I’ll write her back. But not before.
That doesn’t stop the texts from coming though. The entire walk up the three flights of stairs and while I strip and dress, my phone chimes. “Jeez, Robin. Lay off.”
Once I’m beneath my covers, a cup of green tea on my nightstand, I hold my phone up and see all of Robin’s text messages. Part of me was dreading, or maybe it was hoping, that Nate had decided he was wrong about everything but nope—every one of the messages was hers.
Robin:Where are you?
Robin:What did he do?
Robin:Seriously. I’m getting worried. Where are you?
Robin:If you don’t text me back right now, I’m calling the police.
The thing is, I know she’d do that.
Me:You can’t put in a missing persons report until I’ve been gone for 24 hours. Or is it 48 hours?
Robin:It’s 24, you little snit. Where are you? What did that snarky asshole do now?
Me:I’m home. I need to take…
I want to say, “A mental health day,” but I can’t.
Me:A nap.
The orders for today are already done, so all Robin has to do is be there for customers. I’m not leaving her in the lurch or anything.
