“As my friend?” I repeat. “What about as my boyfriend?”
“Fuck, Landon. You got a girl pregnant. The girl you spent ten years of your life with,” Grady reminds me, like I have amnesia or something. “Maybe this is the universe telling us I was right last night when I said this can’t work.”
“No.” It’s the only fucking word I can make come out of my mouth.
“Yeah, Landon. Think about it. I’m gonna go.”
“Grady, Angie is right. You’re a fucking coward when it matters,” I snap.
He doesn’t even stop walking.
A second later, I hear the front door close. I collapse back onto the chair, tears blurring my vision.
Chapter 31
Angela
When I wake from my nap, I have a glorious moment of oblivion. I don’t know where I am or what’s going on. I’m not single. I’m not pregnant. I’m not living in my sister’s pool house. But then I roll over and the bed creaks loudly, and reality comes crashing in.
The fucking Casco family and their stupid vintage beds in this musty old pile of timber they call a cottage. My heart fills with heavy, cloying despair. I roll onto my back, fight the tears, and press a hand to my chest. I take long, slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth. I know when I feel like this, it can’t be good for the kiddo, so I try to pull myself out of it. I’ve been seeing a therapist too, which helps. My sister is trying to understand. I know this isn’t how she would handle things if she were in my position, but she’s always wanted kids. She also doesn’t understand why I don’t want Landon back. But she’s been my rock through all of this.
Slowly, I start to sit up. If I move too fast, I vomit, so everything I do these days is slow. As I sit on the side of the bed, I run my fingers through my hair and listen. The house is silent. I reach into my small suitcase, which is open on the other side of the bed. I didn’t even bother to put it on the floor before I crashed. I grab a pair of cashmere socks and put them on, and then I slowly make my way downstairs.
Landon is sitting in the chair in the living room, staring at the knotty pine wall above the couch. Or maybe he’s staring out the window? I can’t exactly tell. He doesn’t move as I approach, like he’s in a trance. “Landon? Are you still in shock?”
“Yes,” he says quietly. “Probably.”
I move to the couch, and my discarded tea from earlier is still sitting on the coffee table. Looking at it creates a wave of nausea, so I turn away and close my eyes until it passes.
“You still look tired.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “Apparently, that’s my new normal. Don’t you love that for me?”
He doesn’t say anything. I look over at him. He’s looking at me. I take him in. He looks the same, mostly. Hair is still a little too long. There’s a slight shadow of stubble on his jaw because it’s an off-day, and he doesn’t have to skate or do anything. My eyes fly around the skin I can see, and there’re no bruises. I still hate myself for not pushing him harder when he started to bruise easily and sleep more than normal.
“You really won’t keep it?”
“No.” I’ve stopped feeling crippling guilt over that fact. Now it’s just a small ripple of it. “There are good adoption agencies everywhere, and couples longing to be parents. If you decide not to be a dad, then this kid will be loved anyway. It’s okay, by the way, to not want to be a parent. But since I was going to have it I figured you should have dibs.”
“Jesus Christ, Angie,” he hisses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How can you be so calm about this?”
“I have had about a month to scream, yell, and cry over it,” I tell him. “And I’m in therapy to help cope with… everything.”
He runs a hand through his hair and stares at me again. He’s looking at me like I’m a stranger. I guess now I’m closer to a stranger than a lover. We’ve both changed a lot in recent months. “You love him?”
“What?” He looks horrified. “Angie, come on.”
“It’s okay if you do. If I’m honest with myself, I could see something between you two back in Los Angeles,” I confess. “I picked him for a reason. I knew we both had a thing for him.”
He frowns. “What are you going to do if it’s his?”
“Same thing I’m going to do if it’s yours. My plan doesn’t change regardless of the dad.”
He sighs. “I’ll marry you. If you’re worried about being a single mom, we can get back together. It wasn’t always rocky, Angie. We had good times, and we can find that again.”
He says it with all the excitement and conviction of a Florida salesman selling swampland. “We had it great until we didn’t. And can you look me in the eye and tell me you still care for me the way you care for Grady?”
“Babies bring out the love couples had for each other, don’t they? My parents always said having me and the twins made them stronger, made them feel complete,” he adds, ignoring what I said entirely.
