Page 62 of The Pocket Pair

“Was this recently?”

“Years ago. Don’t be mad, okay? We were in high school. My point, though, is that Winnie didn’t warn Chevy away from me. She was only concerned about you, Val. You’ve got to ask yourself—why?”

Oh, believe me—I’m asking myself why. I also want to ask Winnie, which might be tricky because that means telling Winnie that Lindy told me after overhearing it years ago. Is this why he keeps pushing me away when it seems like something might be shifting between us? Or is it something else?

For now, I’m going to chew on this.

The crows fly off, still making a lot of racket and, so far as I can see, leaving no charm bracelets behind. Jo runs back toward the porch, Pat trailing behind, still making the spoon bob up and down. But as he approaches, he slides it into his back pocket, beaming at Lindy like she’s his universe’s only sun.

I want someone to look at me like that. So badly it’s almost a visceral throb in my whole body. And deep down, it’s not just a general someone I want. It’s Chevy. It’s only ever been Chevy.

“On another topic,” Lindy says. “Are you going to be okay when Mari leaves?”

I squeeze my eyes closed. “Do you have to bring up every single thing I don’t want to talk about today?”

“That’s what friends are for,” Lindy says.

“Well, in that case, no. I don’t think I’m going to be okay. I’ll cry like a whole room full of babies and—”

Lindy suddenly sits straight up, her face ashen. “Speaking of babies …”

And that’s all the warning she gives before jumping up and vomiting over the porch railing into the bushes.

“Mom!” Jo says, freezing at the bottom of the stairs.

I’m on my feet in a second, rubbing Lindy’s back while trying not to look at the puke. She heaves another few times, and then Pat’s there, ripping off his shirt—of course, because it wouldn’t be a complete day without Pat taking his shirt off—to tenderly wipe the tears from her cheeks.

“Hey, darlin, what gives? You okay?”

Lindy shoots me a panicked look. I know she had a whole speech prepared, but I think that ship has sailed. I shrug and give her shoulder an encouraging squeeze.

She takes a deep breath and turns to Pat. But she doesn’t need to say a word. He takes one look at her expression, and a smile brighter than the sun breaks over his face.

“Really? For real?”

Lindy sniffs, smiling through a fresh round of tears. “Not how I wanted to tell you but …”

“Tell you what?” Jo makes it to the top porch step, hesitating as her gaze swings from Lindy to Pat. “Are you sick?”

After Lindy took the test, she told Winnie and me she never wanted Jo to feel self-conscious or weird about Pat and Lindy having a biological child. It’s been one of her biggest worries about having kids—how Jo might react.

“She won’t feel left out or unloved,” I assured her then. “Y’all just keep loving her the way you do, and it will be fine.”

Not that I have any experience. I only know what it looks like to NOT be on the receiving end of great parenting. But as I step back now, giving the little family some space, I see proof I was right not to be worried.

Pat gives Lindy a quick hug and then, grasping her hand, he drops to his knees before Jo. “Jojo,” he says. “We’re going to need your help with something really important. It’s a job only for you, and I know that you’re going to be so great. Think you can handle some extra responsibility?”

Jo gives him her most serious expression. “I swear it.”

Pat grins up at Lindy, who nods. “How would you feel about being a big sister?”

With eyes as big as serving platters, Jo shrieks, trying to jump up and down while trying to hug Pat and Lindy both at the same time. All the jostling must upset Lindy’s stomach again, because she goes back to heaving over the railing, this time with Pat and Jo both whispering soothing words and rubbing Lindy’s back.

I don’t realize I’m full-on crying with the snot and everything until I’ve quietly slipped away to my car. None of them noticed I left, which is fine, really. It’s their big, sweet moment, and I want them to have it alone. It’s also almost time to meet Chevy to move my studio, which means I need to pull it together.

But the whole drive back to his house, I feel like I’m on the verge of collapsing in on myself. There is a black hole of longing in my chest for that. For family of my own.

I’ve never felt so lonely.

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