Page 131 of Heartless
My mouth opens to argue, but her eyes narrow and she makes this zipping motion with her hand that ends in pinching her fingers together before she continues, “For a few days. I want to see my doctor and confirm things. And I want you to spend some time thinking. I want to know that this isn’t some shotgun relationship built on failed birth control and a stupid stomach bug. So don’t follow me. You have options, and you are free to take them. I want you to let yourself consider your options, because no one has ever really given you any options, Cade. And you deserve them.”
I can feel my entire body slumping deeper with every word she says. I know in my heart what’s right. But the things she’s saying about me and my life? They’re true. And I’ve spent so many years working to fix everything around me that I’ve never just sat here and let myself feel sad about the fact I’ve never really considered my options.
She crouches before me now, framing my face with her palms. “More than anything in the world, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”
Her lips press gently to my forehead, and then she steps over me, scooping one hand down to pick up the discarded glass before walking away.
Every part of me wants to go after her, but sometimes loving someone means giving them the space they want. The space they need. For a little while, at least.
So instead, I just sit here. Thinking about my options. About how Willa is the only option I want.
And about how I’ll respect her wishes until I can’t take it anymore.
Then I’m throwing her over my shoulder and bringing her home.
33
Willa
Summer:Dude. Where are you, and why is Cade rage-landscaping his front yard with broken fingers?
Willa:I’m at my place in the city. Is he okay?
Summer:I don’t know. There’s a lot of sweating and grunting. It seems a little bit like his shovel has done something to offend him.
Willa:Can you just keep an eye on him? I’m worried about him.
Summer:Fuck no. But Rhett can. I’m coming to your place with a bottle of champagne.
Willa:It’s not going to be a champagne kind of visit.
Summer:Don’t be a downer.
Willa:Sorry. But I’m going to be a downer for approximately the next nine months.
Summer:Oh shit. On my way. I’ll grab ingredients to bake cookies.
* * *
“When is the appointment?” Summer mumbles around a mouthful of warm cookie.
“Tomorrow.” I can’t even eat the cookies I made. I feel sick and it has nothing to do with being pregnant.
“Are you worried?” Concern laces her every feature.
“About what? I’m pretty sure a blood test will only confirm what I already know.”
She nods. “I saw your bathroom garbage is full of a bunch of what you already know. How many tests did you buy?”
“Twenty.”
“Seems reasonable.” She nods, taking another bite.
“I wanted to be sure.”
“How did you even manage to pee that much?”
I chuckle at that. Leave it to my best friend to pick out some inane detail and fixate on it. “So much water. I think I’m hydrated for at least a week now. Remember when I drank way too much Jägermeister and got super sick?”
