Chapter 37 - Zach

As I pull up to Harper’s apartment block I have to smile. I’ll talk to her and hold her and fix this. She’s in here and so is my kid. My kid! I’ve never felt anything as strong as what I feel for Harper, and now she’s carrying my first child.

The doctor said it was a miracle baby - maybe he’s right.It’s a miracle that Harper and I found each other, it’s a miracle that I let her into my life, it’s a miracle that she got pregnant when she was told it was impossible.

I put the car in park and think about her face after the first time we slept together. When I asked her about birth control I’d seen such raw pain in her face, and now I know why. She thought she wasn’t able to have kids. I could see the pain in her face before I took her to the doctor and now it makes sense.

I’m going to be a father. My chest heaves as I take a deep breath. Somewhere in that apartment block is an amazing woman and she’s carrying my child. I can hear the blood rushing in my ears when I think about raising a kid. It’s terrifying and exciting at the same time.

It’s almost as terrifying as the thought of walking up those steps and facing Harper. No, not facing her. Grovelling. I’m prepared to beg, grovel, plead, do whatever I need to do to make her understand that I made a mistake.

I’ll tell her I’ll be there for her and the baby. I’ll tell her I made a mistake. I’ll tell her I reacted horribly and I’m sorry.

I’ll tell her I love her.

The thought of saying those words out loud instantly makes my palms start to sweat. I’ve never put myself on the line like this before. There’s never been more than just sex with a woman and me. The flowers that Becca chose are sitting in the passenger’s seat. I grab them roughly and open the door.

This is it.

I pause when my foot hits the ground. Maybe I should warn her that I’m here. Give her a heads up so that I’m not just showing up at her door. I pull out my phone and dial her number.

It rings! She didn’t block my number.

“Come on, Harper, answer!” The phone rings and rings until her voice comes on over the receiver.

“Hi, I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message!”

I sigh and try her again. It rings out to voicemail again.

“Damn it!”

Her apartment building looks dark and uninviting. I shake my head. I’m just delaying this because I’m nervous. I need to just get up there and see her and explain how I feel. I climb out of my car and walk up the steps and find the door to the building propped open with a small doorstop. I push it open and look at the steps. I don’t even know what apartment she’s in. There’s an intercom and a list of names, so I ring the number for H. Anderson.

It buzzes and buzzes without a response. I frown. I try it again with no luck. What if she isn’t home? I glance up the stairway and then look at the bunch of flowers in my hand. Should I wait in my car? I spin around in a circle, uncertain of what to do. What if she’s here, she’s just ignoring me?

I NEED to see her. I need to tell her how I feel! I need to apologise for being an absolute ass! If she’s here then I have to at least try to look into those eyes of hers and tell her the truth, that I love her and I’ll do anything for her. I was in shock yesterday, but I want to be with her. I can’t say that I’m ready to be a dad, but I can try.

I see a stack of old junk mail in the corner and rush over. Rifling through the old envelopes and flyers, I try to spot her name. Surely she’d have her apartment number on it?

I’m starting to lose hope when an old magazine catches my eye.

The Economist.

“Of course,” I say under my breath with a grin. She’s always learning. And there it is - right under her name. Apartment 407.

I roll the magazine and slip it into my jacket’s breast pocket. I practically run up the stairs and by the time I make it to the fourth floor I’m panting. Don’t apartment buildings have elevators these days?!

“I need to work out more,” I say to myself. I glance at the wall and see the arrow pointing left for apartments 401-412. I turn down the hallway and half-walk, half-jog down.

My heart is beating faster than it was running up the stairs, which I didn’t think was possible.

401, 403, 405… 407!

I skid to a stop in front of her door. Taking a few deep breaths, I try to calm my beating heart. I smooth my hair back by running my fingers through it. With one more breath and hold the flowers upright and ball my fist.

My knock sounds hollow against the door. I knock three times.

Tap-tap-tap.

No answer. I knock again.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Still nothing. I sigh, raising my hand one more time and slamming it against the door.

“Harper!”

I wait for two, three, four seconds but all I hear is the sound of silence. I hold my breath and try to listen for any movement inside, any indication that she’s home. I can’t hear a thing. I try knocking again but when no one answers my chin drops to my chest and I sigh.

She’s either not here or she doesn’t want to see me.

M feet felt light as a feather a few minutes ago when I was running up the steps, but now it feels like my boots are made of lead. I drag myself away from the door and make my way to the steps. At the top, I glance back down the hallway, just in case she’s there waiting to run into my arms.

The empty hallway stares back at me, taunting me. I sigh and turn back to the stairs. I trudge downwards, swinging the flowers back and forth with every step. The tops of the flowers are brushing the edges of the stairs as I go down, but I don’t care.

She probably wants nothing to do with me. What would a couple flowers change?

I push the front door open and walk down the steps. My mind is swirling with all kinds of thoughts about Harper, about seeing her, about apologising. I can’t focus on anything and it feels like all my thoughts are rushing at me all at once.

It’s not until I’m almost at my car that I see the man leaning against it. I stop in my tracks and my brow knits together as an unnerving smile paints itself across his lips. My blood runs cold as I recognise him.

“Hello, Mr. Lockwood.”

“Greg Chesney,” I breathe. “What the fuck are you doing here?”