If I do that, I’ll not only ruin my life but Harlan’s and this baby’s, too.
This baby.
My baby… No,ourbaby.
I’m having a hard time accepting the reality of it all. Not because I don’t want it—I do—but because I’m scared to death. Shandy shakes her head a couple of times, then reaches out and wraps her fingers around my hand, squeezing gently.
My gaze shifts up to meet hers. She moved here two years ago and hasn’t even talked about Marro, let alone gone back. She has embraced Granite Falls as home, and just like with me, Granite Falls has accepted her with open arms.
“You have to tell him,” she urges. “You have to trust him to take care of all your worries. Give them to Harlan, Lola. Let him carry the burden.”
God. Great advice. I know it is, even if I can’t accept it yet. My brain knows that she is right. That’s what I need to do, and I want to. I’m just not sure how. The words won’t form, so maybe I can just wait until he figures it out himself. And I won’t have to actually say anything out loud.
“You have to tell him,” Maisie announces. “You’ve both been through so much. This is going to be the best thing in the world, you’ll see.”
I’m sure she’s right. I know she is, but that doesn’t take away the fear. I open my mouth to tell them all the thoughts that are flying around on a loop inside my head. But before I can actually say anything, Shandy releases my hand and scoots her chair back.
I watch as both Shandy and Maisie stand from their chairs. I open my mouth to ask what’s going on. But before anything can come out, they step to the side, and standing in front of me is Harlan.
He doesn’t sit down in front of me; instead, he holds out his hand, palm facing upward. I slip my palm in his, and he curls his fingers around me as he gently guides me to stand. Moving around the table, Harlan tugs me toward him. I fall forward slightly, my palms pressing against his chest as my head tips backward and my eyes flick up to meet his.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
He shakes his head once before he speaks.
“Maisie called me, said I needed to get down here right away, that you wanted to talk to me. But I can tell by the look on your face, whatever it is you need to say isn’t going to come easy?”
His words come out as a question, but it’s rhetorical, or maybe that’s just how I’m taking it. I slide my tongue along my bottom lip, unsure of what to say. Do I just blurt it out? Do I actually say the words meaningfully and attempt to be poetic? What the hell do I do here?
I’m not sure what to say, but Harlan doesn’t try to make me say anything. He squeezes my hand and guides me out to the dance floor. It’s not much of a dance floor, just an empty corner, and the country music that’s playing is so low you can hardly hear it, but that doesn’t stop him from taking me in his arms.
Harlan holds me close, swaying from side to side as we move in the little area. He bends slightly, his cheek pressing against mine, his lips at my ear as he speaks.
“Do you know how much I love you, darlin’?” he asks, his voice low and breathy, sending goose bumps over my skin. “Love you more than anything on earth.”
“I’m pregnant,” I blurt out.
He doesn’t stop moving. He continues to sway our bodies from side to side. I start to shift backward, but he doesn’t let me. The muscles in his arms flex, and he holds me closer. Almost as if he’s trying to give me all of his strength for this moment.
“I know, darlin’. I just needed to hear you say it.”
“I’m scared, Harlan,” I confess.
“I know, darlin’.”
His arms are still around me as he continues to sway from side to side with me in his arms, and I’ve never felt safer. Never felt more loved. Never felt more… just more.
“It’s okay to be scared. Remember driving here in that shit car of yours? Remember meeting this grumpy asshole? That was scary.”
I burst out laughing at his words, shifting my head back slightly, and my eyes meet his. “This is scarier,” I confess.
He shakes his head. “In a different way. We have one another and seven months, give or take, to prepare. We got this, darlin’.”
I suck in a breath and hold it for a moment before I let it out slowly. “We got this,” I say, repeating his words.
If I say them enough, they’ll be true, right? I think they might. I hope they will. I want them to be true.
“Lola-Mae,” Harlan says with a warning tone to his voice.
