“Maybe we’ll save that experiment for another day.”
She sounds exhausted, not just physically but mentally. Losing a spouse, growing a person, weathering judgments and opinions from people who don’t know her. Any one of those things would be a lot to handle, and she’s dealing with all three, and more.
My heart aches at the dark circles under her green eyes, their usual sparkle dimmed. I hug her tightly one more time before sending her to bed.
Aaron was one of the best friends I’ve ever had. So is Abby. And for the first time, it really hits me that nothing will ever be the same.
The grief nearly cracks my chest open.
If there’s anything I can do to help her, I’m going to. No matter what it is, or what it requires of me.
Lying on my back, I stare up at the ceiling and make a silent promise to my friend that his wife and child won’teverbe alone.
***
The next morning, I pick up breakfast and coffee before Abby wakes up. I’ve just finished setting up the table when shestumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, her curls a chaotic halo around her.
“Good morning,” she yawns. When she sees the table, her eyes go wide with delight. “Coffee for me?”
“And bagels,” I say. “I thought those might be mild enough for your stomach.”
She wastes no time grabbing a plate and slathering her bagel with cream cheese.
“Which one is mine?” she says through a mouthful of food, pointing at the two to-go cups.
“This one,” I say, setting the drink in front of her. “I got you decaf, I didn’t know if you were allowed to have caffeine since you’re pregnant.”
“I’m allowed to have one cup of coffee a day, thank you very much,” she says, glaring at me as though I’ve betrayed her. “And I need it, Jack, I’m growing a person. I’m so exhausted all the time and–”
“Alright, alright,” I say loudly, swapping the cups in front of us. “You can have mine.”
She takes a sip, moaning loudly as she does. I clear my throat, cheeks heating.
“Yeah, I’m gonna need you to never make that noise in front of me again.”
“Jack Robbit, you old rascal,” she says with a wicked grin. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Don’t call me that,” I deflect, rolling my eyes. I take a drink of what wassupposedto be her coffee, and I swear I can taste the difference.
Decaf is a fucking scam.
“Thank you for staying last night,” she says. “It means a lot to me.”
“Any time, Abby,” I say, lifting my eyes to meet hers. “I mean that. Literally any time.”
She smiles, turning her attention to her breakfast. We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks again.
“My next appointment is next week,” she says, glancing at me nervously. “Would you–”
She pauses, chewing nervously on her lower lip.
“Would I what?”
“Would you maybe want to come with me?”
I blink at her stupidly for several moments before remembering how to speak again.
“You want me to come with you?”
