Page 156 of The Promise Of You

Again.

Tears blurring my vision, I leave my coffee on the table and run back home, not caring who sees me or what state I’m in. I didn’t think my legs could carry me, but somehow I find myself at the cottage, clearheaded enough to shoot a quick email to Aunt Dawn and Scott Johnson about “something coming up” and the close on the restaurant needing to be “rescheduled.”

No date, nothing.

I need to clear my head before making more decisions. Before I box myself into a situation I won’t be able to get out of.

I shut my phone off, get in the car, and drive aimlessly the rest of the day, thinking.

forty-seven

Justin

I’m in my office, crossing off my to-do list, when Cassandra comes in uninvited and sits in front of me. Schedule next community dinner. Check.

“So, how does it feel, being in Chloe’s shoes these days?” she asks.

“What now?” Place job announcements for extras during foliage. Check.

“I hear the Wards and you had a conversation last night? And Chloe’s parents were there too?”

I sit back in my chair, twirling my pen, wondering where she’s going with all her questioning.

“And I was at Easy Monday this morning.” She scrutinizes my face. “No? Nothing?”

“You lost me there, Cass,” I admit.

“Where’s Chloe?”

My blood pressure pumps up. “Why?”

“You don’t know where she is?”

“She had a tough night Friday. Like you said—her parents, the Wards. Lots of things came out in the open. Weekend was crazy busy at the restaurant. She’s sleeping it out.”

“Not anymore she’s not.”

“What’s going on?”

“You know who I saw at Easy Monday? Chloe.”

I shrug. “It’s her favorite hangout. Can you please get to the point? I’m pretty—”

“And Gisele.”

This doesn’t sound good, though I’m not sure how or why. Chloe has been nothing but over the top gracious to Gisele, whether I’m there to witness it or not. “Okay.” I throw my pen on the desk and steeple my fingers.

“Gisele was on the phone, or maybe pretending to be. Outside by the river. Right on the other side of the bush where Chloe was sitting. Going on and on about what a wonderful father you’re going to be.”

Shit.

“Explaining how you’re going to couples’ therapy—”

What the fuck? “I’m not—”

“Explaining how you’re working on becoming a real family. How you’re going to Lamaze classes together…”

A real family? La—what? What the hell is that?

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