Gray is mooning over Faye as she and Bri plan.
Aiden is being his usual chill self, chiming in at all the right times of Sawyer’s story, though it’s clear that most of his focus is on Luna and her pregnant belly that seems to be growing by the second.
Fuck.
That’s going to be Harper soon enough.
Something about the reality of that hits hard and I set aside the menu.
“You good, man?” Ryan asks as I toss some cash on the table.
“Yeah, just need to hit it.”
His eyes tell me he doesn’t quite buy that, but thankfully, he doesn’t call me on my bullshit, just says a quiet goodbye and lets me slip away.
I exit the restaurant to Smitty’s booming voice and Sawyer threatening wombat talk again, but soon enough the quiet closes in, sitting heavy on my chest as I drive home, as I park and walk inside, as I collapse on the couch and turn on the TV, staring unseeing at the screen as I fight the urge to go back outside, get in my car, and drive to Harper’s place.
Demand she let me go to the appointment with her.
It’s as I’m snagging my keys to do exactly that when my phone buzzes.
Shannon: Hey, I’m free. Want me to come over?
That would be the smart move.
The safe one.
So, I start to type a reply.
Then stop.
Toss my phone aside. Chuck my keys beside it.
I turn back to the TV, flip through the channels until I find an old hockey game, and sit in the dark with it streaming as I deliberately don’t think about why I’m not inviting Shannon over for another fuck fest.
Same as I deliberately don’t think about Harper.
But that even with all that deliberateness, I still end up grabbing my phone and spending most of the night going down an internet rabbit hole, learning all I can about pregnancy.
Morning sickness.
What vitamins Harper should take.
Symptoms to watch out for.
All the things she might need (and yeah, I place an online order for all of them).
Eventually, I stumble onto a subreddit that tells me repeatedly not to panic.
Except…there seems to be a fuck-ton of things to panic about.
Including how much I want this when I’m not even sure I should be in the baby’s life.
Groaning, I toss my phone aside again, flop back on the couch, and mutter to myself, “What the fuck are you doing, Leo?”
Unfortunately, I don’t have a good answer.
So, I just snag my phone again…
