“There’s someone else.”
Yeah right. Like April would cheat. She’s not wired that way.
So what the hell is this? Some kind of test? Is she scared? Did I miss something?My mind’s running in circles, chasing the pain and not catching anything but air.
The dew’s soaked through both sneakers now. My toes are numb. I still don’t move. I should get back in my car. I should text Arrow, or Corinne, or literally do anything except stand here replaying that moment on loop.
I dig my phone out, staring at her last message. The screen’s gone all greasy from my thumb. No new messages. Nothing but cold, permanent.
I want to punch the nearest tree. I want to scream. Instead, I turn, get in my truck, and sit.
It’s not until I finally pull away that I realize I never once asked her if she was okay.
I don’t remember the drive home. Red lights, white lines, maybe a couple angry horns, but it all blurs.
The shop’s dark when I pull up. I don’t even go inside. My phone’s still in my hand. I scroll, back and forth, like if I keep rereading her words, they’ll start making sense.
I can't see you anymore. Please don't contact me.
I want to text her anyway, tell her she’s wrong, beg for another chance. But I don’t. Instead, I stare at the parking lot, fists balled.
I replay the moment I grabbed her arm, the way she pulled away, like my touch burned her. Every instinct is screaming to go after her, beat down her door, force her to talk. But I can’t even give her that, not after the look on her face.
Maybe she really is seeing someone else. Or maybe I fucked up before I even knew it.
For a guy who prides himself on reading people, I’m officially an idiot.
In less than twenty-four-hours, I’ve lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And after seeing the look on her face, I know I’ll never be able to put what we had back together.
Chapter 13
April
Five months later…
My knees stickto the crinkly paper sheet, and I can smell bleach under the fake air freshener. Harsh fluorescent lights buzz overhead, way too bright for the mood I’m in. I keep my arms folded across my stomach until the technician asks me to recline back. Apparently, I’m supposed to be comfortable with my whole womanhood exposed for the world to see.
Yeah, right.
There’s a chair to my left, thin metal legs, plastic seat. It sits next to the exam table, so close I could reach out, grip an arm if I needed someone to ground me. If I weren’t alone.
Ben should be there.
His hands, steady and warm, inked to the wrists, folded over mine, making me feel safe. Imagining that lazy half-smile, and the way his eyes would light up at the first sight of the blurry image on the screen.
Instead, it’s just me and a stranger with a badge that says NANCY in bubble letters. She grabs the bottle, pops the cap, and a thick string of cold gel lands on my bare, rounded belly.
“Sorry, hon,” she says, with sugary sympathy, but her hands are quick and businesslike. “It’s always cold.” Acting like that’s the worst part.
The gel makes me flinch. I stare straight up at the ceiling, because if I look sideways, I’ll see the empty space where Ben should be, and that will wreck me harder than anything else.
Belinda nudges the probe over my skin. The monitor next to the bed flickers on, shifting gray and white static. The wand digs in a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make me tense.
“There we go. Your bladder’s full, right?”
I nod, my throat closing up. If I try to say something, I’ll probably start crying, and I can’t…won’t…lose it in front of a random medical tech.
A beat passes. She swipes the probe, clicks a few buttons, and suddenly the screen snaps into focus. There’s my baby, floating lazily, knees curled up, tiny fists like they’re ready to fight.
