“What was your answer to her?” His voice is threaded with a seriousness that surprises me.
“What do you mean?”
“To Winnie's question. If you’ll ever have more kids. What was your answer?”
“I didn’t have an answer. She said I needed to have a husband and remarrying isn’t something I have let myself entertain yet.”
His eyes flicker up to mine, almost nervous. “Yet?”
“Yet,” I confirm, and it feels like another chip out of our just-friends agreement.
He fights a smile as he closes my door then turns to walk down to the auto shop.
14
From the diner, I drive to Lauren’s house looking for any excuse to not be back at the apartment. Partly because Winnie won’t be there, and partly because I know Tanner will be just a few parking spots away and I don’t trust my wondering eye. Or hands.
When I step out onto their graveled driveway, I spot Rhett up on the front deck, reading a newspaper and drinking from a steaming mug.
“How’s Laur?” I ask.
He blinks up at me and smiles. “When does nesting officially start?”
“Oh, the early days are nothing,” I tell him. “Wait until like the week before the baby comes. She will be cleaning baseboards like the baby will be inspecting them.”
“If she isn’t sick, sleeping, or writing, then she’s cleaning. She had me organize the attic yesterday.”
I pat his shoulder. “Oh, buckle in man.”
A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth like maybe he secretly likes being at Lauren’s disposal.
“Is she writing?” I ask, nodding toward the house.
“She’s in lockdown mode. I haven’t been able to get her to leave the table since she sat down at five this morning. Good luck.”
Inside, I find Lauren with the curtains pulled closed and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as she sits in the glow of her laptop screen.
“Is it safe to enter?” I ask, gently knocking on the door as I push it open.
She glances up briefly and squints at me.
“What time is it?”
“Eleven-ish?”
She blinks and digs the heels of her hands into her eyes.
“Oh God.” She shakes her head. “I haven’t been able to sleep, and I’ve been writing basically all night. I went to bed at one in the morning.”
“How about,” I pull the cord on the lamp to give a little light to the room, “we take a break for lunch.”
“I have to get this done.” She motions toward the computer.
“You also need to feed the growing child inside of you.”
She grumbles, drops the blanket, then gives me a double take. “Wait. Today’s Monday. How was drop off? Did everything go okay?”
I bite my tongue, willing myself not to cry again. “She ran right off with her new little friend.”
