We.
She said we. That’s a good sign, right?
A sign she’s beginning to see this as a shared experience.
Like she’s reading my mind, she presses her lips into a tight little line. “If we agree to co-parent, this can’t be anything more. We’re not moving in together or having a romantic relationship.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
She narrows her eyes. “Good. Because this is purely a business relationship.”
“How would that work, exactly?” It’s not like I have much experience with two parents. “We swap them back and forth like library books?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she admits. “But my own parents managed to do it while despising each other and living in two different countries while raising me. We’ll figure it out.”
There’s a story there, but now’s not the time to fish for it. “We live two miles apart and I don’t despise you,” I point out. “And as far as I know, you don’t despise me, so we’re already on the right track.” When she doesn’t speak up, I lift an eyebrow. “Feel free to chime in here.”
“I don’t despise you.” Her mouth quirks a little. “I even like you a little.”
“Careful, Hazel. All that gushing might go to my head.”
This time she musters a limp little smile. “I’ll consult with doctors and my attorney to draw up a platonic co-parenting plan. They can help us determine what’s best for the babies.”
“And I’ll consult with my own attorney.” Guess I’d better find one of those. Maybe not my former criminal defense lawyer. “Just to be sure my rights as a dad get considered as well.”
“Fine.” She clenches her jaw, then lets it soften. “I really am sorry for how I handled this.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not, and I’m sorry.” She nibbles the edge of her lip. “You’re right that I don’t react well when I’m scared.”
“I get it.” Despite how this whole thing went down, I feel kinda tender toward Hazel. She might’ve done a piss-poor job with this pregnancy announcement, but at least she’s communicating now. “I’m sure it freaked you out when you learned you were knocked up.”
“There’s an understatement,” she mutters. “Do twins run in your family?”
“Yes. And I know they’re in yours.” When her forehead scrunches in surprise, I fill in the blank. “Lucy and Mason are twins, right? Your cousins?”
“I—yes.” She hesitates. “Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“I really am sorry. I know what it feels like to be misjudged. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’ll live.” And I’m starting to think that sorry is Hazel Spencer’s favorite word.
Watching her hands, I see her frail fists clench and unclench. There’s a fat emerald ring on her right middle finger, and some sort of pearl on her left hand. I know zilch about jewelry, but both look expensive.
Then there’s the ring on her left pinky finger. It’s skinny and silver, dinged up and scratched with a small, tarnished knot in the middle. It looks like the kind my sister would buy at the State Fair for five bucks each summer, then lose before Labor Day.
Hazel catches me looking and balls up her hands, tucking them under the table. Lifting her gaze, she draws in a breath. “I’m also sorry for how I’ve been ignoring you since that day in my foyer. That wasn’t fair to you.”
Well that’s a surprise. “Didn’t think you wanted to go there, but yeah… I was kinda surprised by the cold shoulder. I thought we both had a good time.”
“We did. I did, I mean.” Pink stains her cheeks as she pauses. “It was great. You were great, and then I went and pretended it didn’t happen. I felt embarrassed and desperate and needy, and I hated the thought of you thinking of me that way, so I avoided you. That was immature and unkind and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” Shit, I should apologize, too. “I’m sorry if I took advantage of you that day. I know you were having a rough time, and I didn’t mean to?—”
“You didn’t.” There’s that flush in her cheeks again. “I wanted to.”
