Page 72 of Burden to Bear

My lips parted as I felt a flutter in my belly that had nothing to do with the baby. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Brock said, “I’d rather wait until we’re sitting down and enjoying some ice cream together.”

He wanted me to wait? Was he crazy?

I was beyond curious—and slightly concerned—about what he might have wanted to share with me.

Fortunately, Brock recognized the reaction I was having and attempted to ease my concerns. “I promise this is nothing bad, Mia.”

Good news.

He had good news he wanted to share.

Or maybe it wasn’t necessarily good news. Perhaps it was simply him wanting to explain his reaction a few days ago. Maybe I hadn’t made it up in my head, and he wanted to clear the air, despite no lingering tension between us.

Although he’d attempted to settle my wild thoughts, I was still just as concerned about what he wanted to discuss, just as eager to hear what he had to say.

But since I was sure he wouldn’t change his mind and tell me immediately, I decided it was best to trust what he’d already said and not let myself get too worked up.

Of course, that also meant I didn’t want to delay in getting to the part of the evening that would result in Brock and me sitting on my deck, so we could finally talk.

On that thought, I dipped my chin cautiously with understanding and said, “I can be ready in about fifteen minutes or so. Does that work for you?”

“I’ll run home, grab a shower myself, and be back at your place in twenty minutes,” Brock returned.

“Okay. Then I’ll see you in a little bit.”

With that, Brock and I separated from each other near the end of my driveway and walked in opposite directions to each of our homes. Given I had twenty minutes until he’d be knocking on my front door, I did what I had to do to remain focused on the task at hand.

So, without worrying about what was ahead—I was pretending it didn’t matter at all—I climbed the stairs, hopped in the shower, and did what I had to do.

And fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at my door.

Smiling, grateful that Brock was just as eager to share as I was to hear what he had to say, I descended the stairs. When I’d first told Brock I wasn’t ready for the day to be over, I thought it was because I was having such a great time with my neighbors. Perhaps that was part of it. But as I approached my front door, it hit me. This was about something else. I wasn’t itching for more of the block party fun; I wanted more time with Brock. And after the long day of being around so many people, having time alone with him on my deck while we enjoyed some conversation and ice cream sounded divine.

I placed my hand on the doorknob and pulled the door open.

My stomach dropped.

Because it wasn’t Brock standing on the other side. It was Todd.

“What are you doing here?”

Todd’s eyes dropped away from my face and down my body. They lingered on my belly for a long time, and something that looked a lot like regret flashed in his eyes.

He remained silent and unmoving for so long, I repeated, “What are you doing here?”

Todd snapped his head back up, returning his attention to my face. “I screwed up.”

No.

No, no, no.

He’d said three whole words, and I wasn’t interested in hearing even one more. “I’m sorry to hear that, but I’m not sure that’s my problem anymore. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve?—”

“Mia, wait,” Todd pleaded, slapping his palm against the door I’d been in the process of closing.

“What do you want, Todd?”

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