Page 92 of Leave Before I Love You
I screech.
“You’ll understand there’s a difference.”
I roll my eyes, and June hugs me one more time.
“Tell him,” she whispers.
I nod, even though my mind is screaming at me to run. Right now, telling Henry I’m pregnant feels impossible.
You’ve done it before.You thought surviving the island was impossible too,my mind encourages, but I shake my head to clear it.
What do you know, ya dumb bitch? You’re the one who got me pregnant.
Henry
I check my watch and see it’s 7:59 p.m. My body is filled with nerves and anticipation, and I can’t stop myself from pacing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my apartment. The city lights below glimmer, but my mind is somewhere else entirely.Avery.Tonight is the night. The night I’m finally going to tell her how I feel, how much she means to me, and how I don’t want to keep sneaking around anymore.
I want to be together. For real.
I glance at the clock above my television, 8:00 p.m. I know Avery well enough not to expect her on time, so I’m not worried. I mean, if anyone makes a point of being fashionably late, it’s my girl.
The restaurant is ready, the rooftop set to perfection. Soft lighting, a private chef, and a table for two overlooking Miami. It cost a fortune, but I don’t care. Avery is worth it. She’s worth everything fancy she begs the world for.
I check my phone. No text. No call.
At 8:20 p.m., when there’s still nothing, I fire off a quick text.
Me: You on your way?
I stare at the screen, willing the dots to appear. Nothing.
8:30 p.m.
I try calling her. It rings and rings and rings. Then her voice mailpicks up. Her voice, sweet and teasing, fills my ear,“You’ve reached Avery Banks. I’m busy doing something you wish you were doing, so leave a message.”
I hang up without leaving one and grip the edge of the counter. This isn’t like her. Sure, she’s chaotic and unpredictable, but she’d never just ghost me.
8:40 p.m.
Panic starts creeping in, and my mind races through worst-case scenarios.Did something happen to her? Is she okay?She was fine this morning. We texted a bit, and everything seemed normal. But now? Radio silence.
I grab my phone again and text her.
Me: You okay, babe? I’m starting to get a little worried.
Still, no response. I try calling again. But I get her voice mail—again. My chest feels tight, and I’m pacing the apartment like a caged animal.What the hell is going on?
By 9:00 p.m., I’m fully panicking. I’ve called and texted her two more times, each message more frantic than the last.
Me: Avery, seriously. Just let me know you’re okay.
Me: If I don’t hear from you soon, I’m coming to your place.
The last time I felt this kind of fear was when I was diving out of the plane with Avery secured against me and praying to God that I was going to keep her alive. And my mind keeps jumping to the worst conclusions.What if she’s hurt? What if she’s… No. I can’t think like that. But the worry is gnawing at me, and I can’t shake it.
I grab my jacket and keys, ready to head to her place, when my phone buzzes. My heart leaps, and I snatch it off the counter, praying it’s her.
But it’s not.
