I haven’t seen much of Damian lately, aside from the prisoner exchange back in Virginia when they got back from Disney World and Summer came with him.Ugh, She was wearing the most pitiful smile on her face, like she really took pity on me. Me, the middle-aged woman, pregnant and alone, next to her, a young vibrant woman, just settling down with her new man. That might be my second least favorite memory ever. The first being Liam sliding my engagement ring off my finger in a crowded bar.I think that’ll be a core memory for the rest of my life. I cringe.
Insteadof restarting Bridgerton, I throw my AirPods in and head upstairs. I have to hunt down the new bedding for the baby’s room. Damian will have to sleep in the nursery, I guess. It’s not decorated yet, but there’s at least a twin daybed in there, along with a crib. I’m sure he’lllovethat.
SEVEN
Liam
I look at the time on the dashboard like my life depends on it. Every minute gone by is another minute lost.Why isn’t she picking up her fucking phone?Obviously it still works; she just texted me last week. I try calling again (for the hundredth time in the last four hours) but it’s the same as every time before — straight to voicemail. Her sweet-sounding voice on her inbox plays back to me, making the pressure in my chest tighter, almost unbearable.
This has been the longest four hours of my entire life. The worst part is, I don’t even know where I’m really going. I’m assuming if Silas is her new OB, she’s somewhere semi-local to Spearhead or town, and if there’s anyone that’ll know where she is, it’s Sandy.“She’s good, better off without you,”replays in my mind.Please don’t be too late. Please, please.
I debated going to the house first, but there’s no way she’d be there. That’d be too easy, a fucking dream, honestly. But I do need to know if she read the letter. I have to assume no, since she doesn’t know why I left. I explained it all in the letter. And ifshe didn’t get it, is it just sitting on our bed unread?Our bed. My bed. God, I’ve fucking ruined everything.
All I wanted to do was make things right, take myself out of the equation forthem. But the plan didn’t work, and now I’ve missed out on months with Britain and my child because I had to be some kind of martyr.My child. I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad, and Britain’s going to be their mom.FUCK, she’s my everything.
In the back of my mind I’m already thinking:What happens if I can’t make this right?What if I am too late and she’s moved on?Maybe her and Matt are happy, and she really is better off without me. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Or maybe I’ll just drown instead. I don’t fucking know, but I’ve gotta get there first, and the first step is to find Sandy.
The steep driveway to their house winds around to the front in a circle. Without wasting a moment, I throw the truck in park right by the front door and practically run into the house, shouting before I can even make it inside.
“Sandy!” I call out through the main level, but nothing echoes me back. So I continue on, walking deeper into the house to the kitchen.
“Hi.”Who is this?
“Uh, hello…” I respond, pausing to get my bearings. There’s something familiar about the teenager standing in Sandy’s kitchen. I don’t have time to pull the thread, though.
“Is Sandy here?” I ask a bit too brusquely.
“Yeah, she’s in the back. May I askwhois asking?” The teen questions me, mirroring my less-than-polite tone.
“I’m her son, Liam.”
The teen scoffs at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be dead on arrival. “So you’re the man who doesn’t know how to use a phone? Or a condom?”The fuck?
“Elodie!” A second teen comes out from the pantry holding chocolate bars. “You can’t say stuff like that.” The minute I see her, realization hits me. It’s like looking at the Britain I met 17 years ago, except this version is a little bit taller and a bit more tan.Holy shit, I might cry. Partly from relief that Britain might be here, but also because it feels like getting punched in the gut meeting them like this.
“Why? It’s true.” The spunky teen with reddish hair just shrugs her shoulders and glares at me, maliciously.
Caroline turns her attention to me. “What are you doing here?” The not-so-warm welcome is almost too much, but I guess I get it.
“Where’s your mom? I need to talk to her.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Elodie asks me in what I’m starting to believe is her only tone, moody and accusatory.
“Yes, I do. I’ve tried calling, but she’s not picking up. I need to see her as soon as possible. Please.” They both look at each other in a knowing way, having some sort of sibling conversation telepathically. “Is she here?” My heart starts racing. I just need to see her and explain, and tell her about the letter.
“She’s not here.” Caroline finally answers me. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling on the ends, trying not to break down in front of the girls.
“Can you tell me where to find her then?” The siblings communicate telepathically again, looking at each other before answering me.
They both reply in unison, “No.” They don’t even give me a second look, instead going back to their task at hand, which is apparently making a tray for s’mores from the looks of it. It’s taking everything in me not to walk over and throw their tray off the counter and yell at them.
“Girls, I don’t think you understand. There’s been a miscommunication. I have to explain to your mom whathappened.” I start pacing, the anxiety eating away at me. Caroline keeps ignoring me, but Elodie responds.
“Uh huh, suuurrre. Amis-comm-uni-cation,huh? Alright, I’ll tell you where she is.”Thank fuck.
“God, thank you, Elodie–” She cuts me off before I can say anything else.
“When hell freezes over.” Caroline shoots her a scolding look, but doesn’t reprimand her this time. Instead, we all turn as the door to the back deck opens, and I see my mom at the same time she notices me. We make eye contact before she looks at the girls, then back at me.
