Page 26 of Return To You

You broke us and all for what, a little bit of fun,”

The melody gets quicker, and a few tears fall.

“You were my rose, the brightness in my life, but now you’re my thorn, shredding my heart to pieces.

But I’ll keep moving on; I’ll make something of myself without you, even if it hurts.

What happened, my Petal? Where did you go? Why did you do this….”

Peter quickly changes the radio channel, and some customers complain, but he ignores them and makes eye contact with me.

His brown eyes show concern, but I shrug, wiping away my tears.

I’ve heard the song and played it on repeat since it came out last week. It’s full of pain and heartbreak, which is ironic because he’s the one who left me, not the other way around.

I gave him all of me, and he threw what we had away.

Shaking my head, I go to the counter, grabbing the cloth and spray. Peter quickly grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze before letting go.

I give him a small smile before turning away.

He knows all about Noah and our history. He’s a good friend who cursed Noah out before refusing to allow his music to play in the diner.

For the first year, it was all the songs I knew already, which I thought was hard, knowing some were about us like “My Rose,” but when “Rose’s Thorn” was released, Peter was the one who held me as I cried, which wasn’t fair on him because I know he has a thing for me. He told me when I’m ready to date, he wants the first phone call, and yeah, he’s good-looking guy with his brown eyes and dark blonde hair, his swimmer’s body every girl dreams over, but he’s not Noah, and I hate that I still feel this way, especially after all the photos in the tabloids of him and other women all cozying up, Barnett and Cameron in the background grinning.

Two weeks ago, he had his arm over a girl’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear while she laughed, and last week, there was one of him at a club with a cigarette in his hand, and his arm around Piper’s waist, her licking his neck, all while he was grinning.

I know I need to move on, but right now, I need to focus on work, school, and Diego…

Screw Noah, screw my dad and brother and Vanessa; the only person I need in my life right now is my son, and maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll be strong enough to date again, to let someone in, but that day is not today, and it won’t be tomorrow.

I groan as I climb the five flights of stairs to my apartment, but before going into mine, I knock on Mrs. Cannon's door across from mine. She answers within a few seconds with a big smile on her tanned, wrinkled face.

The woman is in her seventies and is amazing.

“You look tired, my darling, why don’t you let him stay the night?” is the first thing she says, and I smile.

“I appreciate the offer, but I haven’t pumped in two hours, and it’ll just be easier for him to latch on,” I reply, and she sighs, shaking her head.

Chuckling, I hand her the paper bag, her payment for babysitting when I work at the diner, and she grins. She takes it to her kitchen, mumbling, "Chicken dumpling soup, my favorite,” before grabbing Diego.

I smile when his head turns my way, and he gives me a gummy grin.

He’s the spitting image of Noah, despite having my freckles and dark red hair. His bone structure and eyes are all Noah's, and no one could deny paternity.

With a squeal, he kicks his legs, making me chuckle, and I take him.

He’s just under four months old, born two weeks before his due date, weighing only 6lbs 4oz, and he’s perfect.

I kiss his chubby cheeks, and thank Mrs. Cannon before turning to my door.

She’s been a big help. I only took three weeks off from work after I gave birth, Katie offered a small amount of maternity leave, but I knew I couldn’t afford to stay off work for too long, and Mrs. Cannon has been my go-to babysitter.

I offered her money, but she refused. Knowing I get food for free at Katie’s, she said that’s all the payment she needs. While I’m at Jerold’s Family Law, they have an on-site nursery, which means I can nurse him whenever I need to, so it’s perfect.

As soon as I’m in my small apartment, which I have yet to make homey, only moving in a month before I gave birth, I sigh. It has a small black couch that came with the place, and, thankfully, a washer dryer.

It’s all we need for now, while he’s this young. I’m just hoping to move somewhere with a yard before he turns five.

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