Page 93 of Things We Burn

The energy in the room seemed to change. I looked at Kane whose eyes were narrowed and hands fisted at his sides. His attention glued me to the floor.

“Who thefuckis Aaron?” he asked quietly.

I kept my hands on my belly and stood my ground, despite my rapid rise in heart rate. “Aaron is a dog trainer.” I nodded to the bed. “Her dog trainer. I’ve been working with her for a couple of months. Aaron is happily married and just sent his daughter Caroline off to college,” I added, though I shouldn’t have had to.

Kane was quite obviously mad at me. Things between us were severed, yet he also thought he could be possessive and wrathful at the mere mention of another man’s name?

Kane didn’t reply. Just stared at me for ten full seconds. I counted in my head as I tried to remember to breathe.

Then he nodded, looking around, taking stock of the house.

I wasn’t skilled at decorating. At making places feel warm and welcoming. I was surprised my womb was welcomingenough for a baby to take root, but here we were. I was trying. With Kiera’s help.

It was pretty much all Kiera. She came to visit when she had time—which wasn’t often, but she’d occasionally jump on a plane to come for just a day—and in that time, she’d walk around the house with measuring tape, sucking her teeth and tapping on her phone.

The kitchen and living area were a result of her tapping.

Two, large deep-seated sofas were facing each other, the fabric a deep-green velvet. They were cluttered with contrasting-patterned, plush pillows, comfortable throws lying over the top of them. I’d tested out the comfort of the sofas many times, when I was too tired to make it to bed or if I had a day when my first trimester morning sickness decided to reappear.

The coffee table was round, in an effort to prepare for the baby proofing I’d inevitably have to do. There were varying sizes of beeswax candles—nontoxic because Kiera had also gone crazy to make sure everything in the house didn’t contain chemicals that could harm the baby. Worn paperbacks were piled beside the cabinets. Not Kiera’s doing, but me, desperate for distraction.

Baby books. All of them. Written by scientists, by doulas, midwives, spiritual experts—every side of the coin. I needed all the help I could get.

The fireplace was roaring because even though spring had sprung, I felt the cold more these days, despite my extra padding in the midsection area.

Paintings decorated the walls, all depicting womanly figures. Another thing that Kiera had insisted on, bringing ‘divine feminine energy’ into the house. I didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I let her do it.

Apparently, it meant warm tones, a lot of candles, books, flowers, fertility statues and crystals. Which I instantly balked at. If my sister were here, she would’ve approved.

But my sister wasn’t here.

She didn’t even know I was here. Or that I was pregnant.

Nor did my mother.

Outside of Kiera, my doctor and Brax,no oneknew.

And now Kane knew. He was glaring at me with unwavering intensity.

“You renting?” he asked, his tone cold.

No more yelling.

Somehow, that was worse.

“Excuse me?” I asked, confused by the question.

“The house.” He waved one of his hands to gesture to the space around us. “You renting?”

“Um, no,” I wrung my hands. “I, um, kind of impulse bought.”

He stared at me. No change in his expression. “You impulse bought ahouse.”

His tone reminded me of Kiera’s reaction when I’d told her about the house.

“It’s my Thurdy gift,” I informed her. “Did I use it right?”

There was a beat of silence at the other end of the phone. “Okay, Ilovethat you’re using my term, but the concept has gotten a little lost on you. Because a Thurdy gift is something like a purse that costs as much as a used car, or maybe some hat that is only appropriate for the Royal Wedding even if you don’t have any British friends. It is not a small, quaint and very Nancy Meyers vibes house in a seaside town!”

---