Page 114 of Free to Run
My chest heaves as if I was the one to have just completed 13.1 miles. The thoughts flying through my head are hitting me with a painful, enormous, brutal beauty.
She didn’t run from me but walked up to me, ready to figure this out.
And holy shit, I’m going to be a father! A father.
We start walking toward her car before the impact of that fully hits me. My knees almost give way, even as I stride along next to her. I look to the left where she’s close enough to touch. Her eyes are red-rimmed, but the beaming light beneath her nervousness is something I’ve missed seeing.
It isn’t hard to remember when that was. Before she left me, her family, her life. When she lay in my arms after I placed the diamond around her neck. Before she walked into my office and her world was rocked on its foundation. Before my own arrogance came back to bite me in the ass.
The truth is, it isn’t Alison who has explanations to make, dreams to reconfigure, and trust to regain. I have as many, if not more.
I’ve learned a lot about myself in the last few months. There wasn’t a day in the beginning that I didn’t blame Alison for leaving without listening to me. For not believing what the words “I love you” meant. And somewhere along the way, I understood something.
I love you is just a phrase…words. It’s supposed to uphold the strongest of storms and fight the hardest of battles, but it’s delicate, fragile, and unless it’s built on a firm foundation, it can be shattered. It needs to be fed with trust and openness from both sides for it to thrive.
Caleb tried to warn me about this. His continuous prodding at telling Alison wasn’t due to any blowback he expected. It’s because he knows what it takes to nurture love.
Reaching her car, she lifts up her white shirt for a hidden zipper, which highlights the small bump the average person who hadn’t memorized her body would have never noticed, but which I devour with my eyes.
Our baby.
Pulling out a single key, she unlocks the door and stands beside her car. “Do you want a ride to your car?” She leans over into the car, turns on the ignition, and rolls down the window.
Seeing the quizzical look on my face, she mutters, “I can’t stand getting into a hot car with leather seats down here. I have to let the AC run for a few minutes.”
A grin slashes across my face. “Afraid of scalding your ass?” I tease.
She responds instantly. “More like I’m afraid of melting the baby despite what the doctor says. I mean, if they’re not supposed to be in hot cars alone after they’re born…” Her voice trails off.
The grin on my face fades and transforms into a soft look. “I like this protective side of you, Alison.”
“No one else ever has,” she mutters to herself.
God, we have so much to talk about. I decide to ignore her and say, “I actually wouldn’t mind a ride to my rental. I know parking was fairly liberal for the race, but I’m not certain if I can leave my car there long.”
She laughs. “This is Charleston, Keene. Someone will tow you faster than you can breathe to take your parking spot—they’re sacred down here.”
I walk around to the far side of the car and slide into the compact vehicle, frowning when I realize it isn’t terribly large. “This is pretty small, Alison.”
She shrugs. “It gets me to and from work. That’s about all I needed.” Backing out of the space, she asks, “Where are you parked?”
I tell her and sit back as she efficiently drives over the bumpy grass that makes us both groan and grunt. “Are you shaking up the bean doing this?”
We slide off the grass and onto pavement. “Avocado, and no. He or she is well insulated.” Driving for a few moments in silence, I absorb what she says. Our baby is the size of an avocado. “Keene, which car is yours?”
Dazed, I look at Alison, who is staring ahead with fixed concentration, trying to not hit runners and pedestrians alike. Her skin has lost its flushed appearance and has smoothed back to its normal glow. Her hair is slightly longer and lighter. I can’t stop staring at her. Her lip is pulled between her teeth as she shoots me a quick look. “Keene! Which car is yours?” she snaps.
“I honestly can’t remember right now.” I scramble for the key in my pocket with the make and model on them. “Right there.” I point to a late-model SUV at the end of the row.
Letting out a puff of air, she pulls up alongside my car and puts on her flashers. I get out and walk around to the window she’s rolled down, leaning in to talk to her.
She says, “I’m about a five-minute drive from here. Ten, maybe. Are you following me?”
“Anywhere you go, baby.” Reaching out, I stroke a single finger down her cheek.
“I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Slowly, her window rolls up, and I’m forced to step back and walk to my car.
For now.
