On Thursday afternoon, I’m leaving my politics class when I get a text from Beau asking if I want to meet at the Coffee Hut. I’m about to decline—I’ve been avoiding pretty much everyone I know since I returned to Briar—when a follow-up appears.
BEAU
Don’t say no. At this point I need proof of life, B. Please. I miss you.
I haven’t told anyone about my pregnancy or the surgery. Wyatt and I swore our families to secrecy, because it’s our business, and the last thing I needed was dozens of family friends asking if I’m all right or texting their condolences.
It wasn’t even a baby, damn it. I don’t care what anybody says.Zero chance of survivalequalsnever a person. It wasn’treal. Which means I’m not allowed to grieve it.
Except I am. My heart clenches whenever I think about it. And each time I run my fingers over my tiny salpingostomy scar, it reminds me I had to have surgery to remove…an alternate future, I suppose. The path that shall never be walked.
But I know if I keep shutting out everybody in my life, they’ll eventually suspect something is wrong. Something heavier than Wyattand I simply “parting ways,” as I told everyone. So I force myself to accept Beau’s invite.
I’m on campus now. I can be there in five.
BEAU
See you soon.
I meet him at the campus coffee shop. He’s in a white T-shirt and track pants with a backpack slung over his broad shoulder, his blond hair swept away from his forehead, emphasizing his gorgeous features. He’s as handsome as ever, commanding attention from every person in our vicinity, male and female.
“Hey.” Beau greets me with a hug, frowning when he releases me. “Why do you look so thin?”
I shrug. “I’m on a diet.” Truth is I’ve barely had an appetite. First with all the morning sickness and then the depression.
“You don’t need to be on a diet.” His frown deepens as we approach the order counter. “You don’t look good.”
“Thanks,” I say dryly.
“No, I mean… Have you been sick?”
Realizing he’s not going to drop it, I lie and say I had the flu at the end of the summer and I’m only bouncing back from it now. Beau blessedly accepts the explanation, and we grab our coffees and find a table in the back of the crowded room.
Beau kicks out a chair and sits, thrusting his long legs out in front of him. He’s still watching me, his wry smile telling me hedidn’tbuy the flu story.
“It’s okay to admit it’s a broken heart diet.”
I’ve been so numb lately that I’ve mastered the art of showing no reaction. I don’t even blink at the teasing accusation. “What do youmean?” I play dumb.
He shrugs. “You and Wyatt ended it. You’re allowed to be upset about that. You doing okay?”
I shrug back. “I’m fine. I knew it was going to happen.”
“That he would break your heart?”
“He didn’t break my heart,” I reply.I broke his. “Wyatt and I both agreed that when the summer ended, so would our fling. And that’s what happened.” I casually sip my coffee. “How’s the semester going so far?”
“All good. Classes are fine.”
“And AJ?” I prompt.
Beau’s expression dampens. “Not good.”
Last I heard from our girls’ chat, AJ still refuses to accept Beau’s apology. They haven’t spoken since July, and we’re nearing the end of September.
“Why haven’t you fixed this?” I ask.
“He doesn’t want to fix it. He’s done.”
