Page 90 of Pregnant in Plaid
Gage: Then make her believe you.
I stare at the phone. Make her believe me. Like it's that simple. Like I can just say the right words and everything will fix itself.
But how? I told her I loved her. I asked her to stay. I offered her everything I have. And she's still leaving.
I stand there, fists clenched, staring at the empty driveway where the car was just minutes ago.
I threatened to follow her to Florida. Said it like I meant it. Like I'd actually get on a plane and chase her across the country.
But what's the point?
If she doesn't want me—if she doesn't believe I love her—then showing up in Florida isn't going to change that. It's just going to make me look desperate. Pathetic.
I grab a piece of scrap wood from the workbench and hurl it across the room. It smashes against the wall, splintering into pieces.
It doesn't help.
Nothing helps.
Because the woman I love just walked out that door, and I have no idea how to get her back.
Chapter 14
Patrice
Tessa and Gage's living room smells like pine and wood smoke.
I stand in the middle of their cozy one-bedroom cabin with my suitcase, feeling like the world's most inconvenient houseguest. The one who shows up unannounced, extremely pregnant, and fresh from a massive fight with your husband's best friend.
"You're taking the bedroom," Gage says, already grabbing my suitcase.
"No." I shake my head. "Absolutely not. You two just got married two days ago. I'm not kicking you out of your own bed."
"You're eight months pregnant," Gage counters. "You're not sleeping on the couch."
"I've slept on worse."
"Not happening." He looks at Tessa. "Back me up here."
Tessa, to her credit, looks torn. "Patrice, really, we don't mind?—"
"I mind." I plant my hands on my hips, which is less authoritative when you're shaped like a beach ball. "This is your honeymoon. Well, your honeymoon week. Whatever. I'm not taking your bed. I'll be fine on the couch."
"I'll take the couch," Gage says. "You and Tessa can share the bed."
"Gage—"
"Non-negotiable." His tone leaves no room for argument. "You're pregnant. You need proper rest. End of discussion."
I open my mouth to protest, then close it. The truth is, my back is killing me and the thought of trying to get comfortable on a couch sounds like medieval torture.
"Thank you," I finally say, my voice small.
He nods once and disappears down the hallway with my suitcase.
"So." Tessa appears at my elbow with two mugs. She hands me one. "Tea. Decaf. Because apparently that's your life now."
"Thanks." I take it, wrapping both hands around the warmth. "I'm sorry. This is not how you should be spending your first week of marriage."
