She’d already waited hours to get a flight. What was a few extra?
Brownstones lined each side of the street. Trees were dotted along the pavement, caged in wrought iron. Here, nature was corralled and controlled. Pruned to fit into human ideals of conformity to beauty. She preferred the wild open. She never could have fitted in. On some level, Grey must have known that.
Huddled on the stoop, she rested her chin on her knees, and raised her hood over her head. Fatigue infiltrated her flesh. She was unable to keep it at bay any longer. Her eyelids drooped. The streetscape blurred like a painting by Monet. Occasionally a passing car would draw her mind out of the haze.
What seemed like hours later, headlights washed across the snow-encrusted ground. She lifted her head, squinting against the intrusion. Recognizing Greyson’s truck, she pulled her stiff body to a stand.
He got out and approached her. “Lory? For Christ’s sake, you’ll catch your death. Come here.”
Picking her up in a bear hug, he put her in his truck and covered her with a blanket. Heated air blasted from the vents coaxing her towards it.
“What are you doing here?” He pushed a button on a clicker and the garage door began to open.
“Merry Christmas to you too, Grey.” She didn’t realize how cold she’d been until she spoke, and her teeth clacked together.
“Sorry, topolina. Merry Christmas. How long have you been sitting there? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? Why aren’t you home with your family?” He parked the car but left the engine running.
She used to love it when he called her little mouse. The endearment didn’t have the same effect on her now. He looked the same. Long, dark hair. His face so much like his brother’s. There was something in his eyes though. A flicker of light she’d never seen.
There was one major difference. For all the times she’d sat in that very seat next to him, this was the first time he didn’t give her butterflies. The dynamic between them was calmer. More balanced.
The way it should have been all along.
She checked her phone, ignoring the notifications lined up on the screen. “An hour or so. I wanted to see you.”
“Is everything okay?”
Lord help me. I’ve screwed up. She pushed her hood off her head. “Oh, yeah. It’s fine. Fine.”
“Uh-huh. Totally convincing. Let’s get into the warm house, and you can tell me what’s going on.” He led her through the house to the living area upstairs. Wow. The place was lush. Designer everything. What it lacked was character. Color. Life.
She placed her bag on a chair by the fireplace and discarded her phone on the coffee table. It was nearly midnight in Boston and she had three missed calls from Toni, two from Clay, and more from her mama.
“The bathroom is through there. I’ll light the fire and make us some hot chocolate. We’ve got Christmas pudding somewhere too. Would you like a slice?”
The mere thought of the rich foods had nausea punching her insides. She fixated on the bathroom door as she spoke. “Could I just have some tea and crackers? I don’t know if I can stomach anything heavy at the moment.”
“Yeah, sure. We should have some tea.”
She heard a question in his voice, but she was already busting through the door.
She made sure to clip the lock before kneeling in front of the toilet. She tossed off her coat. Sweat beaded on her brow. If she’d been freezing before, she was boiling now. Her breath sawed in and out. Naming it ‘morning’ sickness was someone’s cruel joke. This baby had hijacked her body and her life. For all her initial denial and resistance, she’d come to a place where she gave in willingly. She was going to be a mama. She’d done enough research in the last week to figure out she was about two months along. That meant it had happened on the night after the fair. Their first time.
Her stomach heaved and she coughed up the water she’d drunk at the airport. She retched until there was nothing left and then she retched some more.
There was a tap on the door. “Lory? Are you okay in there?”
“Be—” Her stomach attempted another evac. “Be there in a minute.”
“Are you sick?”
Kinda. The door handle jiggled.
Oh, Jesus, Grey. Do not open that door.
Thankfully, his footsteps retreated, and her stomach finally settled. She flushed, washed her hands and face, and headed for a seat beside the fire. Grey was in the kitchen. Two steaming mugs sat on the counter.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day. I guess it all caught up to me.” I have to tell him.
“That’s okay. You had me worried.” He made his way over with their drinks. A plate of crackers already sat on the sofa across from her.
She tugged on her sweater, wondering if he noticed how loose it was compared to the last time he’d seen her wear it. “Thanks.” She took the cup from him.
“Do I need to ask again?”
“I’m pregnant.” Ta da.
“You’re what?”
You heard correctly. “Preg. Nant.”
The way his surprise mirrored his brother’s was darkly comical. It was like going through the whole thing again. She would have laughed if she had the energy. Except Toni’s surprise had rapidly morphed into sheer terror. The chill returned, and she curled her hands around the warm beverage, blowing the steam.
Grey seemed confused; grooves etched between his brows.
And then his eyes narrowed. His fists clenched before he shot to his feet. “I’m gonna kill him.”
Who does he think the father is? “Kill who, Grey? Sit down. It’s midnight
