I’m standing sideways in front of the mirror in my bra and panties, trying to get a shot of my now very obvious but still kind of tiny bump when I hear the front door open and close. I’d panic, but Millie is now the only one with a key. “Where’s my baby mama?” she calls.
“In here!” I look up as I hear her approaching steps on the floorboards.
“Well, hello to you, too.” She waggles her blond brows like an idiot. “I didn’t know we were taking this whole thing literally if ya know what I mean. But whatever you need, baby,” she says as she flops stomach down on my bed.
I laugh. And smack her ass as I sit down next to her. “You know you’ve got the best ass in town. Doesn’t mean I’m going to tap it, though. Sorry, not sorry.” I flick through the few photos I took on my phone before she leans up to snatch it from my hands. “Oh, my God, Liv. You’re totally rocking this whole pregnancy thing. Look at our little nugget.” She coos as she uses her fingers to zoom in on a photo of my tummy.
“You’ve got the real thing right next to you, dummy.” I lie down and rub my hands over my belly. Something that seems to calm my racing mind and remind me of what’s important. Millie lies next to me on her side and starts running her fingers over the bump. I start squirming. “Don’t tickle, Mil. Unless you want my uncontrollable reflexes to smack you in that pretty face of yours.” She instantly stops and goes to remove her hand. “No, thank you, ma—” I cut her off by pulling her hand back and placing her palm flat on my tummy when I feel movement. Not like the strange flutters that sometimes happen over the past couple of weeks. But actual movement. “Did you feel that?” I ask
“No. Was the baby kick—” She stops, and a huge dreamy smile lights up her face when she feels it. That weird but totally amazing sensation. My baby is kicking. Elbowing. Hell, who even knows. But it’s freaking awesome.
“OH. EM. GEE, Liv!” she whisper-screams—as if worried about scaring the baby—and looks at me all wide-eyed. The threat of tears stings my eyes, and I welcome them. For as much as this moment was meant to be shared with someone else, I’m just happy that Millie is here with me.
As if reading my thoughts, she cries, “Shit, Liv. This must be so hard for you. Zeke is such a dick.” She sighs. “Of course, I wish he was here for these moments with you, but I’m so stinkin’ happy that I am.” Then she starts blubbering. “Even if that makes me seem like a selfish bitch.” And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why this slightly kooky girl is my best friend. I pull her to my side and wrap my arm around her while murmuring, “Shhh, I get it …”
At this moment, I realize that life can shower you with the sweetest blessings; you just have to try to see through the cracks and chaos of a shattered heart to make sure you don’t miss them or take them for granted.
I silently thank whoever is responsible for gifting me with not only this baby but also for this woman crying in my arms. I honestly don’t know if I could’ve gotten this far without her.
I grab my decaf and thank Maple while she gives me the side-eye—no doubt about my new choice of beverage—before I make my way to the door, stopping to let someone by before exiting into the warm, late summer air. After Millie had left earlier for her shift, I decided it was time to stop hiding out as if I’ve done something wrong. So if I want some fresh air and to take a walk, I’m going to suck it up, hold my head high, and get some, damn it.
A crisp breeze stirs the hair away from my face, which helps to cool me significantly. I’m more of a winter girl at heart, which is ironic given my love for dresses. I reach the grassy area of the park in the center of the town square and walk around the outside toward the pond that stretches its way around the north corner.
Finding a bench in the shade, I park my behind on it while pulling out my Kindle from my handbag. I smile and nod hellos to a few passersby, but mostly, I just try to keep to myself. My mind calms but not enough to give my full attention to my current vamp-tastic read. Placing my Kindle on my lap, I look up to watch a little girl and her younger brother. They look about two and five years old, and they’re trying to feed the ducks in the pond while their father keeps tugging them back away from the edge of the water. I smile at the children’s determination. But it’s seeing the father that has my thoughts straying where I’ve been trying to keep them from going since I found out about Zeke leaving town.
Thinking about him missing out on the simplest of things brings me the most sorrow. But now, the anger is taking hold more than anything. He’s choosing to miss out. But it’s our baby who’ll suffer for it most. Even though I’m going to do everything in my power to keep that from happening, I still won’t be able to soothe the sting for certain things.
I look over at the rotunda where we once escaped the rain together all those years ago and spent an afternoon in our own little bubble. That memory only makes the anger spread through my veins. I pull my eyes away and focus on taking another sip of my lukewarm coffee. How dare he do this—not just to me but to our unborn child?
Someone sits at the other end of the bench, and I look over when I hear that familiar, deep rumble. “What is it with us and benches?”
That smile of his drags me from my thoughts in an instant and has that burn of anger cooling until it’s just a tiny ember. Gone, but not completely. I have a feeling it’ll stay for a while. Simmering, waiting until I can let go.
If that day ever comes.
“I think it has to do with our butts liking to sit down, in all honesty,” I return before feeling my face start to flame at the thought of his ass.
He laughs. “You might just be onto something there. How’ve you been?”
“Okay, and you?”
“Good, good. Work’s been kicking said butt, the usual.”
I remember the last time I saw him—right before I invited him onto my front porch to escape the rain—and how he was checking on Mr. Donaldson, who always seems to think he’s having a heart attack when it’s really indigestion and therefore, has a habit of dialing 911 at least bimonthly.
It’s then I realize as I quickly rake my gaze over him that I haven’t actually seen him in anything besides his work clothes yet. I don’t count the night of Wilma and Ken’s anniversary party as I could barely make out his features in the dark, let alone pay attention to his clothing.
His black Henley and dark washed jeans totally suit him. Not to mention the black Chucks on his feet. The only thing missing is the glasses.
I look up when he clears his throat. Busted once again.
I simply smile and blurt, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever been called out to? With your job, I mean.” Curiosity gets the better of me, but I’ve never actually known an EMT before. “Sorry.” I blush and look down at my ballet flats. “You don’t have to answer that.”
“No, no. It’s not that I don’t want to exactly. I just don’t want to freak you out. Or relive some of the more harrowing call-outs.” He winces. Understandable.
“How about I tell you about one of the most ridiculous ones, by my standards anyway?” he counteroffers.
I nod “All righty, hit me.” I sit back, taking small sips of my coffee.
Chuckling, he sits back on an angle that has him facing slightly toward me with an arm draped over the back of the bench seat before diving straight in.
“So I did my training where I grew up—in Graysfield—and ended up staying to work out of the hospital there before moving here. There was this couple who used to live down the street from me. The most obnoxious, stuck-up people who I’ve ever met in my life. The guy was a dean at the local college and thought his shit didn’t stink, and his wife was a serial pearl clutcher. Anyway, we get the call and head to their house. As soon as we arrive, I’m saying to my partner, ‘Oh, shit. I know who these people are.’
“We ring the doorbell, and their sixteen-year-old daughter answers with, ‘They’re downstairs. Basement,’ which I thought was a bit weird, but whatever. So we walk downstairs and open the door to find some kind of sex dungeon.” I gasp and cut him off there “Fifty Shades style?”
He scratches his head. “Can’t say I’ve seen it or read the books. But it was full of shit that I never even knew existed or could exist. And I’ve watched my fair share of porn. So yeah, possibly worse than Fifty.” I notice his neck turning a slight shade of red at that last part, which has me grinning like a loon.
He looks over and laughs a little. “Okay, so pearl clutcher was stuck to some kind of contraption hooked up to the wall that had fallen off, and she’d ended up with her leg stuck in a really fucked-up position when it, and therefore she, hit the floor. Really bad break.” He mock shivers. “It took us half an hour to get her out of the damn thing with the help of her half-dressed husband and to load her up in the ambulance. During the whole ride there, she threatened our jobs if we ever breathed a word of it to anyone.” He smirks. “I figure you’re a safe bet, being miles away from my hometown and all.”
“Oh, my God.” I start laughing like I haven’t in months. I feel more than see that stare pinned on me until I get myself under control. Wiping tears from under my eyes, I look over at him to find his intensely dark gaze still on me. I know I shouldn’t, but I kind of really like the way he looks at me. As if I’m just a woman without a slew of problems; one he might like to actually get to know some more.
“You have an amazing laugh. Shit, I mean … sorry, sometimes I think out loud. Then sometimes I can’t get words to come out of my mouth at all when I’m nervous.” He chuckles at himself.
I smile shyly, not wanting to encourage him. My heart is nowhere near ready to start looking for another relationship. I honestly don’t know if it will ever be. But he’s sweet, and I don’t want him to feel stupid or anything for being that way. “Thanks, Seb. It’s been too freaking long since I’ve laughed like that.”
“Well, you should. I mean laugh more. Fuck. I’m just going to shut up now.”
I laugh a little more at that, my cheeks starting to hurt.
But he doesn’t shut up. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
The smile slowly falls from my face as I look up at him a little wary. But I shrug. “Sure, shoot.”
“Who broke your heart?”
Jesus. “Straight shooter, huh?” I ask dryly
“Like I said, sometimes it’s out of my control.” He shrugs. As if I don’t know he’s lying about that particular question. If the burning gaze he’s been sending my way is any indication, then I think he’s been wondering.
“You don’t have to answer. But it’s not like I know the guy, so feel free to vent away. Whatever you need.”
“Is it really that obvious?” I whisper.
He rubs at his dark stubble for a second, looking over at the water. “Not really. But since I met you, I’ve noticed that sometimes you get this look in your eye and then your shoulders will slump a certain way.”
He’s been watching me more than I thought. Why doesn’t that alarm me? I don’t know why, exactly. Just that something about this guy puts me at ease and somehow has me forgetting real life, even if only for a little while. Well, until now anyway. With that thought, I make a decision. Hell, everyone already knows Zeke left anyway. It’s very likely that Seb does, too. He’s probably just too nice to say so.
“His name is Zeke, and he was my high school sweetheart. He’s been Beau’s best friend for years.” I turn to see his reaction—maybe he has met him—but he just keeps looking at me with a blank yet patient look on his features. Maybe not then. “He was my first in a lot of ways, and I his in some others. I stupidly thought we’d always be together. I thought he felt the same; I mean he said and implied as much. Then we, um, well, we broke up back in May. It was abrupt, kind of cruel, and he skipped town not long after.” I look back at Seb, surprised that I held my composure and didn’t feel any threat of tears. “Not much else to it,” I continue. “I guess exiting a six-year relationship on pretty bad terms will need time to run its course. So I apologize in advance if I seem kind of spaced out at times. I have other, ah, stuff going on as well.” I laugh humorlessly.
“Hi, my name’s Olive, and welcome to my crazy life. Please, remain seated and fasten your seat belts until it’s time to jump off the crazy train.” I cringe. God, this word vomit had better not turn into a habit.
Seb remains quiet. I glance over to see him raking that steady gaze over my slightly flushed face, which makes my hands start getting all fidgety in my lap. I grip the bench and look over at the pond to see the father and his children must have left. Huh.
“I’m sorry, for what it’s worth. I haven’t had a great deal of serious relationships, but I understand that breakups are rarely easy. I hope you start seeing some light at the end of that tunnel soon,” he offers quietly before glancing at his hands, which are now clasped and hanging over his knees as he hunches forward a bit.
Oh, dear. Is it possible for a guy to be too nice? After everything that’s happened, I’m going to ignore my answer to that question.
“Liv.”
“Hmm?” He turns his head slightly my way.
“Everyone calls me Liv. My grandma used to call me Olive, but usually only when I was being a pain in her ass.” I throw his words from when I first met him back at him. Kind of.
He grins so huge; his slightly plump lips pull right back, showing off that dimple and the white of his teeth, which are almost blinding in the late afternoon sunshine. He’s smiling like I offered him a puppy and said I’ll be its personal poop cleaner, instead of giving him a nickname that my friends use. Goofy, but strangely sexy as hell.
And on that thought … “Well, I’d better get walking home before the sun sets and the mosquitos start feasting.”
“I’ll walk you.”
I don’t protest.
As we walk through the grassy area leading back to the main street, I can’t help but take in the beauty around me. The old brick buildings and the cottage homes surrounded by a variety of gardens, green grass, and the rolling fields in the not too far distance. All of it taking on an orange and green and slightly blurred hue in the rich afternoon sunlight.
“Have you ever stumbled across something beautiful and not realized it until you took the time to really absorb it and take it all in?” I wonder out loud.
Seb’s quiet for a few beats as he walks slowly right beside me, one long stride for every two of mine.
“I have. But it didn’t really take me all that long to realize at all.”
Somehow, I don’t think he’s referring to Ivy Falls. But I don’t dare let my brain skip ahead to connect the dots.
His lips curl into a soft smile when I look over at him; his hand rubs his neck, showing off those tattooed, muscular biceps. That action something I’m learning might just be a bit of a nervous tic for him. I’m about to unlock the door and say goodbye when he asks, “I know you said you’ve got a lot going on right now. But, ah, would you maybe have coffee with me again sometime? Even as friends?”
Oh, shit. I don’t know if he really means the “as friends” part. But either way, this might be going too far.
And he doesn’t even know I’m pregnant.
He’s going to know soon, seeing as my growing belly is only just invisible—if it’s hiding underneath one of my flowing dresses.
I fidget with the keys in my hands. Wondering if staring at them will grant me the courage to look up at him while I say what I need to say.
“I’d love to have coffee as friends. But first, there’s something you should know that I don’t know if you’ve heard about.” I take a deep breath and meet his curious gaze as he waits silently. “But the reason I’ve been taking this breakup so hard is because I’m pregnant,” I say in a shaky breath. “My ex didn’t want anything to do with the baby or me anymore. So that’s why things ended in a pretty bad way.” I smooth my hands over my stomach, flattening the orange sundress dress over it to make my bump visible.
He looks like I’ve slapped him as his shocked stare darts down to my stomach and stays there. I see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallows. Hard. He looks away, his hand shooting back up to rub his neck again then diving straight into his thick brown hair, leaving it in an attractive disarray.
“Wow, okay.” He blows out a breath. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. Congratulations, Liv. I mean, not about the breakup, the ah, the baby, of course.” He’s looking everywhere but at me. I don’t know why I feel a tiny sting in my chest over that fact. But nonetheless, it’s there.
“Thanks,” I say quietly.
“Well, I’d better get back home. I have a shift in a few hours.” He smiles at me briefly, but it looks forced compared to his usual goofy, genuine ones.
Feeling a little deflated, I simply nod, thanking him for the company and for walking me home. I don’t know if he even hears me because he walks off that quickly. I also don’t know how long or even why I stand there after he’s walked away and is no longer in sight, but maybe it’s because I suspect I’ll be seeing a lot less of Sebastian Mathews from now on.