22
Dinner isn’t what I thought it would be. Mom is meddling, as always. It’s obvious that she loves Willow from all the fussing. I’ve never seen her so happy, and even though things aren’t how I hoped they’d be between Willow and me, I’m relieved that she’s at ease. Even with Mom’s one thousand and one questions about how we’re planning to co-parent while living on different continents.
“It’s on the long list of the many things we have to figure out before this little one gets here.” Willow grimaces, finishing her drink.
“We have a list?” I laugh, pouring her another glass of the alcohol-free prosecco Mom picked up at Jan’s favourite deli earlier.
“As long as the wall of China, or at least that’s how it feels. I’m trying to go through it one thing at a time, but it’s hard to go out and look at prams and bottles and all these endless things with cameras around every corner. Doing it online is confusing as hell too…”
Willow glances at me with a soft smile. Her hair is in a high ponytail, cascading in messy waves past her shoulders. And while her make-up looks great, there’s a glow to her that makes it impossible to look away.
“I can always ask Jan to help. There’s this appointment-only baby store she told me about. They have a private entrance you can drive up to, and no one will see you. I’m pretty certain Jan said that they can get anything you want to see or try out before you purchase…”
“Places like that aren’t exactly budget-friendly,” she says, looking down at her glass and fussing with her hair in a way that tells me she’s uncomfortable. Her reaction feels totally off, considering how at ease she’s been throughout the evening, and it makes me worry that there’s more to her remark than she’s letting on.
“We don’t have a budget,” I remind her, nudging her foot lightly with mine beneath the table so that she looks up at me.
It takes her a second or so, but eventually, her eyes meet mine. With her lips pressed into a firm line, she shrugs at my questioning glance. “You don’t have a budget, but I do, Rory.” Until now, I hadn’t given the financials any thought. I assumed we would go out and I would get what she picked out. I don’t want her to worry about money or anything else for that matter. “Anyway,” she adds, “I already have a list that Dory helped me put together.”
“Well, I would like to gift you both the stroller,” Mom announces. “It’s my first grandbaby, and I’m going to spoil the little one in every way I can. You just tell me what you want when you’re ready.”
Willow smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and when she excuses herself to use the bathroom, I know something is bugging her.
“You should go make sure she’s all right. It’s obvious she’s upset.” Mom stands to clear up the dessert plates.
“You need to calm down,” I whisper, following her inside with the rest of the dishes and glasses. “I need to give Willow a moment before I check on her. She’s stubborn, and if I go after her now…”
“She’s a good girl, you know? I can feel it in my bones.” Mom takes the plates from my hands and starts rinsing them out in the sink as she coos, “Wouldn’t it be just adorable if the baby has her eyes?”
“I hope he does.”
“The two of you are so sure it’s a boy…what are you gonna do if it’s a girl?” she laughs at me while I place the rinsed dishes in the dishwasher.
“Keep her locked up and away from assholes.”
“Good luck with that,” Mom chuckles as she pushes me away from the kitchen. “Go make good with your girl. I like her too much to see her with another guy, and I don’t think you want that either, so quit holding back. You’ve given her enough time…”
I have, but I don’t want to crowd Willow right now. I’m still trying to win her over again. I don’t want to make things worse by pushing her too hard. Still, my gut is telling me that whatever is bothering her needs to be addressed.
I’m reaching the bathroom when she comes out. Her long dress hangs loose enough that you can’t see her growing belly, but I know it’s there. Small and neat. The sight of her changing body makes me miss it more than I already do. A languishing ache that I can’t shake or distract myself from doesn’t matter how hard I keep working myself.
“I know it’s not late, but I’m getting tired and…and I need to go home,” she tells me, brushing her hands down her dress.
“I’m sorry if the conversation made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s been a long day, and with everything going on, I’m wiped. It was silly of me to do lunch with Frank and afternoon rehearsals before dinner. I’m trying to fit everything in the time I have left, and it’s not doing me any favours.”
“You’re not running out of time,” I tell her, grasping her hand and tugging her to me.
It’s been a while—feels like a lifetime—since she’s let me hold her without trying to fight it. And as much as I hate that it’s the only reason she’s melting into me and letting me wrap my arms around her, this is how I know something is wrong.
“Let me take you home, sweetheart,” I say while I rock her from side to side.
“Okay,” she whispers in return when I expect her to tell me she’ll grab a taxi.
I’m holding my breath and savouring every second she allows us to be this close. Her body feels magic flush against mine, and even though I’m pretty certain she can hear my thrilled pulse echoing in my chest, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter how my body betrays the desperation I’ve lived with the last few weeks, I just want to steal another quiet minute with her.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes into my chest before she pulls back to smile at me. “I didn’t mean to be rude or sound ungrateful back there.”