Page 129 of The Perfect Love

I rub my hand over her back in soft circles.

“I’m sorry,” she groans again. “I wanted this weekend to be fun. To show you around Birch Lake. Not for me to be in the fetal position in bed with evil cramps and my worst period in months.”

I press a kiss to her forehead. “Don’t apologize. I’m happy to be with you, no matter the circumstances. Of course, I wish you felt better because I hate seeing you in pain, but you don’t have to be any certain way for me.” Sweeping some hair off her face,I look into those two-tone eyes. “I wish I could help you feel better.”

“You being here helps. Other than my family, I’ve never had someone who would just lie here with me.”

“Whenever you need me, I’ll be there. I’d wade through the darkness to find you.”

Her glassy eyes meet mine. “I wish I would’ve had you in my life in my most broken moments. Instead, I had friendssupportingme by saying ‘bitch, stop moping and have fun.’ I would’ve shown up for them whenever they needed me, but they never took care of me. I’m not sure if they didn’t know how or they didn’t want to. Or our ideas of friendship are just totally different. Probably that one. They’re face-value friends. That’s not who I am or who I ever want to be.”

It blows my mind how they’ve treated her in the past. It also makes me realize I’ve consistently had examples of strong female bonds in my life. My mom with Hyla, the girls with their friends. Sarah and Rae are fiercely protective of each other, but also the first to jump in and take care of each other. When Sarah was having a rough day, I usually found her snuggled up in Rae’s bed. When Rae was really sick and needed surgery, Sarah was the first to realize something was wrong. That extended to their entire friend group. They never trash talk each other. They only support each other. I wish Chelsea could’ve had that.

“Just know that even if for some reason I couldn’t be here, all you’d have to do is mention to the girls how you were feeling, and they’d storm the place. Rae would bring brownies—her grandmother’s recipe. Amanda would for sure bring wine. There’d probably also be coffee, sushi, and the best comfort movies around. Honestly, you’re kind of settling picking me over them.”

That gets a laugh out of her. But then she strokes her hand over my cheek.

“There’s nothingsettlingabout this.”

“I love you.”

“Love you too,” she says weakly.

I run my hand over her stomach, then notice the heat wrap is barely lukewarm now.

Grabbing it, I lean down and press a kiss to her head. “I’m going to warm this up. Want anything to eat?”

She grunts like it’s too much effort to think about that, but then says, “Mashed potatoes.”

“On it.” I set the remote next to her. “Find something to watch.”

Her eyes flick toward the TV on her dresser. “Cheesy Christmas movie?”

“I’m in. Be back soon.”

I head down the stairs of Chelsea’s childhood home. It’s large, with a small house out back. Apparently Chelsea’s grandparents lived in this house and Chelsea and her dad lived in the small one until Chelsea was seven or eight, then they moved into this house with her grandparents while Robbie took the small house out back. Now her dad and stepmom live here, and her grandmother lives in the small house.

When I get down to the kitchen, I’m surprised to find no one is around. Chelsea spent the first couple of days of Thanksgiving break at my house, then we spent Thanksgiving apart—until late last night when I decided I didn’t want to wait until today to see her and drove over. It’s only a forty-five-minute drive, so we could’ve stayed at our own places and still seen each other every day, but I wanted to really experience her world.

And boy, has it been an experience.

Within a half hour of walking through the door last night, Chelsea’s grandmother had already asked for my stance on abortion and my thoughts on whether men should have vasectomies as a form of birth control, then have them reversedwhen ready. My answer to the first was that every woman deserves the freedom to make choices about her body, and men need to fuck off about trying to control those decisions. My answer to the second was mostly sputtering while Chelsea and everyone else laughed. Except her grandmother. Eventually I got out my response—I think it’s an option for anyone who is looking at not having kids for a while or who knows for sure they don’t want kids. I personally wouldn’t want to do it until I was done having kids because I know I’d like to have kids young. Her grandmother only nodded in some kind of approval. Then the topic of conversation turned, and Robbie started poking fun at Chelsea getting me to read books with her favorite bat boys and shadow daddies. I then informed him my mom and sister had already corrupted me on that front.

Overall, they seem like a fairly relaxed group, even if they’re passionate about certain topics ranging from politics to whether Josh Allen or Patrick Mahomes was a better QB. I wisely kept my mouth shut. Baseball is my sport.

I stick the heat wrap in the microwave, then pull the refrigerator open. There are plenty of Thanksgiving leftovers, so I pull out the mashed potatoes and gravy and dish up a big bowl for Chels, since she’s barely eaten today.

The back door opens and shuts, then Chelsea’s grandmother appears.

“Finding everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“How’s my girl?”

“In pain.”

She nods. Then slides something wrapped in tin foil over to me. “This is for her too.”

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