Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.

My shoes squeak on the freshly waxed floor, drowning out the hammering of my heart. I’m not paying attention to my surroundings as I barrel down the hall, weaving through patients, nurses, and visitors. Lincoln’s harsh words keep cycling through my head, and all I can think of is what this means for me and the baby.

The baby.

I accidentally shoulder-check a woman in pink scrubs, but I don’t stop.

“I’m so sorry,” I call, continuing down the hall as fast as my feet will carry me.

“Adley!”

Oh, damn.

Lincoln’s boots slap against the floor as he chases after me. I ignore him and keep running. The warm night air smacks my face as the automatic door at the entrance of the hospital slides open. I’m halfway across the parking lot when I hear him yell again.

“Adley, wait!”

I’m huffing and puffing by the time I make it to the car. It’s pointless to try to leave; he’ll only chase me. We’re better off getting this over with now. Bending down, I rest my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath.

“Adley, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it,” he pants, reaching for me.

I jerk back. “Don’t touch me.”

“I know what you think you heard, but—”

“I don’t think anything,” I shout, standing up straight. “Stop saying that. I know what I heard, Lincoln.”

“What you heard was an argument with my father. I didn’t mean half of it. I regretted the words as soon I said them.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Lincoln curses under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Adley, please don’t do this.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Forget what I heard? Pretend you didn’t say it?”

Lincoln looks defeated and spent, exactly the way I feel.

“No, Adley. Come on, you know me better than that. I don’t expect you to forget what I said, but I do expect you to give me the chance to explain.”

“Fine. Explain.” It’s not going to make a difference.

Lincoln blows out a breath and looks up at the sky. When he starts to talk, his eyes find mine.

“I was angry and mad and scared and a million other emotions I can’t name, and I lashed out. My words were meant to hurt my dad; they were never meant to hurt you.” He takes a step forward. “I would never hurt you, Adley. You have to believe that.”

I nod, because I do believe him. I don’t think he would hurt me intentionally, but it doesn’t erase what he said.

I don’t love her.

I don’t believe in love.

I refuse to fall in love.

“Listen.” I take a step forward, keeping a safe distance, because if he touches me, I’ll have a hard time not giving in. I need to think this through. “We’ve both had a long day—”

“No. Don’t do this. Please, don’t leave.”

My chin trembles. Tears prickle behind my eyes. “I can’t stay.” My voice cracks, and Lincoln’s face falls.

This time when he reaches for me, I let him. He pulls me against his chest and buries his face in my neck.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for the things I said. I swear to you, I didn’t mean it. You have to know how much you mean to me.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, and when Lincoln pulls back, he cradles my face in his hands and rests his forehead against mine.

“I love you, Adley. So much. I can’t lose you over this.”

“Oh my gosh. No,” I yell, shoving him. He stumbles backward. “You don’t get to say that to me. Not now. Not after what you just said to your father.”

“Adley, I didn’t mean it. I was just pissed off. How many times do I have to say that?” His eyes are bright with a panic I can’t quite wrap my head around. “You have to believe me. I love you.”

I shake my head, and he grabs my arm.

“I love you,” he says, softer this time.

“It’s not about believing you,” I cry. “I believe you care about me.”

“Love,” he stresses. “I love you.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter what word you use. What matters is that I don’t trust your feelings for me now. How do I know you’re not saying this because you’re afraid of losing me?”

Lincoln’s eyes widen. “What do you want me to do? Tell me what to do to get you to believe me, and I’ll do it.”

Tears drip down my face, and I don’t bother wiping them away. “Take the next few days and be with your dad. He needs you, and so does Chloe.”

“What about what I need?” Lincoln pulls me into his arms, but I struggle against him, and he lets me go.

“It’s not about what you need anymore,” I say, thinking of the tiny life growing inside of me.

It’s because of that life that I have to walk away from Lincoln and figure how to move forward.

“I need some time to think.”

“You mean time to distance yourself from me?”

“Lincoln—”

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” he asks, dragging a hand through his hair. “For me to fuck up so you can walk away without feeling guilty?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “What? No. Don’t try to turn this around on me.”

“Fuck,” he grunts. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m just lost here. I don’t know why you won’t believe me. I don’t want you to leave. I made a mistake. I said things I didn’t mean. Why the fuck aren’t you listening to me when I tell you that?”

“I’m listening,” I stress, digging my keys out of my pocket. “I hear you. And I want to believe you. But what you said in there, you said with so much passion. I just…”

He sighs and looks at the ground. “Go. If you need time away from me to think, then go.”

I don’t answer him with words. Instead, I climb into my car and leave.

I wait until I’m far enough away from the hospital that he can’t see me, and then I pull my car off the road. Dropping my forehead to the steering wheel, I bury my face in my hands and cry.

Several minutes pass. My phone vibrates, and I sit up. Wiping the tears from my face, I reach for my phone, secretly hoping it’s Lincoln begging me to come back. My hope dissipates when I see Mo’s name lighting up the screen.

Girls night started an hour ago and you’re still not here. Do I need to send out a search party?

Shit. Sorry, I forgot.

Don’t apologize. Just get your ass here.

Rain check?

Everything okay?

No, nothing is okay, and right now I feel as though it’ll never be okay again. But I can’t tell her that because she’ll show up at my house, insert herself into my problems, and not give up until I tell her everything. Right now, I just really want to be alone.

Everything is great.

Her response is immediate. Dinner tomorrow night?

Maybe. Let’s keep in touch.

Are you in Houston?

Not anymore. I’m heading home.

Tossing my phone onto the passenger seat, I put my car in drive and head toward Heaven. To my home, not the one I’ve been sharing with Lincoln for the past week. I make the drive on autopilot, my brain circulating the events of the last seven days. Exhausted, when I arrive I climb out of my car, unlock the front door, and drop my purse on the couch.

Everything is as I left it a week ago.

I kick the door shut, lock it, and walk straight to my bedroom. Setting my phone on the nightstand, I peel off my clothes and drop them to the floor before collapsing on the bed. It still smells of Lincoln from the last time we were here together.

Burying my face in the pillow he used, I cry.

I cry for his family.

I cry for the relationship with him I desperately wanted.

I cry because I’m scared and alone, and I don’t know how to move forward.

I cry for our unborn baby.

And then those cries turn to a sob when my phone vibrates with an incoming text from Lincoln.

It’s about more than feelings. It’s about your smile. I love your smile.