Things move pretty quickly after deciding to move in with Breezy. I still haven’t decided whether it’s temporary or not, but she’s been very welcoming and has left the invitation open for as long as I need.

She’s pretty quickly becoming my best friend.

I found a doctor relatively easy. Dr. Fellows highly recommended her. Her name is Dr. Sarah Jolly, and we get along great. She reminds me of Wonder Woman, with long dark hair and legs that go on for miles. She also wears red scrubs all the time, but that may be a coincidence.

Because I’m 37 weeks along and am officially considered full-term, I’ve been going to my appointments weekly to check on my progress. Unfortunately, I’m only dilated to one centimeter, but Dr. Jolly says things can progress quickly, so I shouldn’t get discouraged.

Doesn’t she know you’re not supposed to tell a pregnant woman what to do?

I’ve finished filling out the paperwork Susan dropped off at my hotel a week ago, and I am now on my way to her house to give it back so she can finish the process.

She’s been very accommodating since Christmas, and I can tell she’s carrying a lot of guilt for how everything played out.

I pull up in her driveway, trying to shake off the bitter memories that overwhelm me. Adam cheated on me in this house. Luke had been forced to come clean about Adam’s cheating in this house.

I think I might be starting to hate this freaking house.

I take in a few deep breaths, trying to gain some control over my emotions. After a couple of minutes, I grab the door handle and swing the car door open, inviting in the bitter cold.

I hurry up the stairs to the front door of Adam’s childhood home, the bank paperwork underneath my arm, and ring the doorbell. Susan opens it quickly while holding a worn leather notebook against her chest, and I can’t help but eye it warily. It looks kind of familiar. I think Adam had something similar to it at one point, but I’m not sure. Thinking of my late husband brings a dull ache to my chest.

My heart is torn between gut-wrenching betrayal and a tender warmth when it comes to him. I have so many fond memories of Adam, and I hate the warring feelings bubbling up inside of me, battling which perception of him was real, making me question every moment we had together.

“Hello, Liv. It’s good to see you,” Susan greets me cautiously, acting as if I’m a scared little kitten. She knows it was her screw-up that caused all the drama a week ago, and she feels guilty for causing it.

“Hi, Susan,” I reply, tiredly. I’m so sick of all the drama, combined with being pregnant, that I’ve thrown in the towel. I just want to move on, if only I knew how.

“Would you like to come in?” she questions, hesitantly.

“I actually need to get going, I just came to drop off this stuff,” I reply, holding up the paperwork.

She nods slowly, seeming defeated as she takes the forms from my hands. The leather notebook is still tucked safely under her arm.

I turn to leave, wanting to avoid any more awkwardness, when Susan stops me.

“Wait.”

I turn around slowly, my eyes flicking to the notebook that I just know has something to do with Adam. As I said before, it looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.

Susan licks her lips before handing me the journal as if it is one of her most prized possessions.

“Here. I went digging in Adam’s high school boxes after Christmas because I couldn’t believe a word that boy said, but I found something I think you need to see. I bookmarked the pages that are the most important.”

I take the bound pages and note how soft the worn leather is. I begin to flip through the paper and immediately recognize Adam’s chicken-scratch handwriting.

I vaguely remember our English Lit teacher giving us an assignment at the beginning of our senior year. We were supposed to keep a journal or something and write in it every day for the school year. She had promised not to read the entries; she would just flip through them to make sure we met our requirements.

I’m not sure whether I want to tear it to shreds or hold it close to my heart while savoring every single word.

I swallow thickly before nodding at Susan and turning toward Bree’s car; she was nice enough to let me borrow it.

Apparently, I have some reading to do. I just can’t decide if I have the strength to study the worn pages or not.

Luke

I feel like I’m dying inside. And no, I’m not trying to be dramatic.

I’ve lost the other half of my soul. No one can survive that, right?

She isn’t answering my calls. She isn’t responding to my texts. Hell, I’m not even sure if she’s reading them.

I can’t stop thinking about her. The guilt is eating me from the inside out.

I’m so sorry.

Bree keeps reassuring me that Liv’s fine. They went to the doctor again today, and she’s dilated to two centimeters. She’s feeling contractions but they aren’t very consistent.

She could have the baby at any time, but it wouldn’t be unheard of for her to go past her due date either, especially since it’s her first child.

Since returning to Denver, I’ve read up on every possible scenario when it comes to delivering a baby, and the only thing I’ve learned is that there are too many possible outcomes to plan for anything in particular.

I find myself constantly on my phone reading about signs of labor, checking the weather, and looking up possible flights. I’ve mapped out my options between flying and driving, depending on departing time, and I’ve packed my bags. They’re in the backseat of my car, ready to go as soon as I hear from Bree.

I’m hoping Liv will reach out to me when the time finally comes, but I’m not holding my breath. I hurt her and made her question my feelings, but I refuse to miss Little Man’s birth.

Even if she doesn’t want me there.

I won’t let her down ever again.

I will always be here for her.