Page 1 of The Neighbor's Son

Casey

Two years down the drain.

I wait for the tears to come, but they’re all dried up. I’ve cried so much for Derek, the baby we lost, and the deterioration of our once-great relationship.

Now I’m just numb.

Most of Derek’s things fit easily into the bed of his truck. He’s leaving me with all of the furniture we acquired while together and essentially taking only his clothes in the drawers and closet. Since he’s so neat, and doesn’t collect things like I do, it’ll be as if he were never here.

My gut hollows out and bile creeps up my throat.

At one time, I might’ve obsessed over possibly being pregnant again, but I’ve just come off my period. Plus, the last time we had sex was right before the miscarriage three months ago. The nausea is just from being sick at the situation we’ve found ourselves in.

I pushed too hard on everything—wanting to move in together, wanting to get married, wanting to have a baby. The only thing we accomplished was the first, and now that’s gone.

“Take care of yourself,” Derek says, unable to meet my eyes. “I’ll be around if you need me.”

The man isn’t a bad one. He’s good to his core. It’s just, the more I spiraled from the pain of our loss, the further he drifted from me. Our last several weeks have been nothing but shouting matches that always ended with me crying, and ultimately, him breaking it off with me.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to mutter, giving him a half wave. “I wish…”

He flashes me a grim smile. “I know. Me too. Bye, Casey.”

The somber finality in his words makes my throat clog up with emotion. I manage a nod and then watch him climb into his pickup truck. Derek, the man I thought I’d spend my life with, drives away, leaving me empty and heartbroken.

With a heavy sigh, I head back inside, noting how it already feels lonely without him. Tapping on the backdoor, though, jolts me out of my terrible mood. My friend, and one of the other neighbors here at Moonlit Gables, grins at me through the glass. I can’t help but smile back at her.

Clara has been my rock the past few months. We’re so different it’s not even funny, but I’m grateful for our friendship.

“Let’s walk,” she says when I open the door for her. “You told me to hold you accountable. This is me doing that.”

The last thing I want to do is walk the trail that circles the ponds and gardens at our townhome complex. I’d rather crawl into bed, sniff Derek’s pillow, and pretend this breakup never happened.

“Raincheck?”

Clara snorts. “Nope. Put your shoes on.”

Seeing Clara is a reminder that I do want to walk, even if I don’t feel like it today. She’s slim, has curves in the right places, and actually has muscles. Men do a double take when she walks by.

Meanwhile, I put on weight with the pregnancy and continued to gain even after I lost the baby. I’ve jumped several sizes in clothing from my usual size eight to eighteen. Even though Derek says our breakup has nothing to do with my weight gain, my self-esteem disagrees.

Nah, Casey, he broke up with you because you’re a nutcase, not because you’ve had a fixation with gummy worms and Oreo’s for the past few months.

I grumble, ignoring Clara’s giggles, as I shove my feet into my sneakers. “Today is not really the best day.”

“Because Derek moved out?” She shakes her head. “It’s because of that you do need to get out and walk. It’ll make you feel better.”

We exit my townhome onto my back patio. Off to the left, I can see Travis’s Dr. Pepper can wall hiding the view there. Maggie, who lives between us, doesn’t understand boundaries. I’m sure now that Savvy has gone to live with him and Travis, she’s really been on “nosy neighbor alert.”

“Get back here, you bad cat!”

An orange cat leaps off Maggie’s back patio and darts under my wooden deck to hide from the woman. Clara snags my arm and hurries me toward the walking trail, so we don’t get swept up into a conversation with Maggie. The lady is kind of mean and demanding, so I’m not mad to make our escape.

Once we make it to the trail, and are far enough from earshot of Maggie, we take a minute to stretch. I try not to be envious of Clara’s flat stomach that peeks out at me when she raises her arms over her head. Instead, I tug at the T-shirt I stole from Derek, hoping to hide the growing bloat in my stomach. I have got to stop stress eating sour gummy worms.

“A man asked for a happy ending today,” Clara tells me once we start walking. “If I had a dollar for every time that’s happened to me, I’d be rich.”

I grimace at her words. “What did you say?”

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