Page 77 of End Game
Whatever I had vaguely hoped in the back of my mind is now erased and the stark reality of the world I live in is blindingly bright. All I can hope for is for Branch to love his child and for us to co-parent to some extent.
We reach his car and he opens my door. “Want to get some coffee cake?” he asks.
“Is this your plan? Feed me to keep me happy?”
I sink into the plush leather seats that he helped adjust until it was at the perfect position for me before we left.
“I’ve noticed that you’re more manageable with a plate of food in front of you,” he winks.
“Branch?”
“Yeah, Sunshine?”
I take in the way the sun reflects on his hair and the way his eyes look even bluer than normal when he’s wearing a white shirt.
“I’m going to need two slices—one for now and one for the middle of the night.”
His laughter trickles through the car as he shuts the door.
CHAPTER 24
BRANCH
The television glows on the wall in front of us, hanging on a stone fireplace. Below it is a mantle with pictures from the Miller family at various stages of their lives. Pictures of Finn and Layla on boats as babies, them on the sand as toddlers, even at past Water Festivals. It’s a restful ambiance that I could appreciate if I could stop looking at her.
Layla sits on a sofa a few feet away, a book in her lap.
After our early lunch in town and walk through the streets, we stopped at the lake on our way back to the cabin and sat on the sand. We didn’t talk much, but sort of each processed what had already been said.
Just sitting next to her, being in her air space, makes me feel . . . well, it makes me feel like I want to stay here. I find myself waiting to hear her laugh or for her to say something I can play off and start a conversation. It’s weird. I’m not the converse-with-women type of guy unless it means their tongue is against my cock while I tell them how hard to suck it.
Not with her though. That confuses me.
“Did you see that?” she giggles.
Shaking out of my daze, I look up. “I didn’t. What happened?”
She sighs. “You’ve been somewhere else mentally a lot tonight.”
“Yeah, well, I guess I have a lot on my mind.”
She nods, like she’s reminded that the weight of the world is on her shoulders. Picking up her book, her grin is gone.
“Hey,” I say, waiting until she looks at me again. When she finally does, I realize I have no follow-up. “Um, what are you reading?” I stammer.
“A book about pregnancy.” She holds the paperback up and shows me the cover. It’s a patchwork of pastel colors with rattles and bottles and these pins with little pink bows on top. “This is my first rodeo, you know.”
“What are you learning?”
“To not watch labor and delivery images and not to read the stories,” she laughs. “If they showed you this before you had sex, it would be effective birth control.”
“Guess we’re a little too late for that, huh?”
“I guess so.” Something washes across her face as she sets the book beside her. “I haven’t said this yet, but thank you for coming up here. I didn’t expect you to and?—”
“Stop.”
She squirms in her seat as I grab the remote and flip the television off.
