“Good morning, bud,” I say, plastering a smile on my face and trying to gauge his reaction. “I think I can guess where you two have been this morning. You smell like ice.”
Connor shrugs. “Harrison couldn’t sleep and I was already awake so he took me to the rink because that’s where we work out our shit.” He turns to look at the man behind him. “Right Harrison?”
From the look on his face, Harrison is a bit surprised at Connor’s colorful language but decides to pick his battles and takes it all in stride. “That’s right. We men had to go work out our shit the only way we knew how.” He gives me a bright smile behind Connor and tosses me a wink letting me know everything is okay.
“Oh. Phew! Well, that’s good. And did you get all your shit worked out?”
“Yep.” Connor nods. “And now we’re starving and Harrison said we could have pancakes so we’re here to get you so you can come too.”
“Pancakes sound perfect,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady despite the emotions swirling through me. I stand from the couch. “Just give me a few minutes to get ready.”
“Take your time. We’ll wait,” Harrison says, his eyes lingering on me with a warmth that makes my cheeks flush.
Connor bounces on his toes. “But don’t take too long, Mom. I’m seriously starving. Like, might-die-of-hunger starving.”
“Drama queen,” I mutter affectionately, and something in my chest loosens when he rolls his eyes at me, just like he always has, just like nothing’s changed.
As I slip into the bathroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a bit messy, and my eyes are still puffy from last night’s tears, but there’s something different on my face. The weight I’ve carried for so long hasn’t disappeared, but it’s shifted somehow, distributed across stronger shoulders than just my own.
I can hear them in the kitchen. Connor’s excited chatter about some trick shot Harrison showed him, Harrison’s deep laugh rumbling in response. When I emerge dressed in yesterday’s now-dry clothes, they’re waiting by the door. Harrison catches my eye over Connor’s head, and something passes between us; relief, understanding, a shared breath after holding it for so long. He mouths “okay?” and I nod, because despite everything, we are. Not perfect, not healed, but okay. And right now, that feels like enough.
“Can we take Harrison’s truck?” Connor asks.
“You bet,” Harrison says, already pulling his keys from his pocket. “And guess what? You can even sit shotgun.”
Connor’s eyes light up. “Seriously?” He turns to me. “Can I, Mom?”
I nod, smiling at his excitement. “Just this once.”
As we walk to the truck, Connor races ahead, and Harrison falls into step beside me. His fingers brush against mine, a whisper of contact that sends warmth through my entire body.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, bumping my shoulder against his arm as we walk.
“For what?” He glances down at me, those blue eyes so much like Connor’s.
“For taking him this morning. For…whatever you said to him.” I swallow hard. “He’s looking at me again.”
Harrison’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently. “He loves you, Harper. He was just hurt.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I just?—”
“Mom! Come on!” Connor calls from the truck, already buckled in and waiting impatiently.
Harrison chuckles. “Pancakes wait for no man.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
HARPER
It smells like antiseptic and citrus cleaner in here, the kind that’s meant to be calming but just makes everything feel, well, anxiety inducing. Or maybe it’s the fact that I’m in an exam room perched on the edge of the paper-covered table, feet dangling, staring at a poster about fetal development that I absolutely did not expect to be staring at today.
I’m here because I need someone to tell me what’s going on. I’ve been tired lately, but between Connor’s busy life, and Harrison’s busy life, plus my own job, who wouldn’t be tired? I’ve thrown up a few times in the past couple months, which is a few times more than normal for me and even though I’ve tried to deny it to myself, my period has been…fuzzy.
Or maybe I’m here because Antoni made a joke that landed a little too close to the truth.
“You haven’t eaten, you threw up twice, and you’re crying over a dog food commercial. If you’re not pregnant, I’m not gay.”
So, there it is.
