SMITTY: You drive a tough bargain. But 10 it is. Rest up. I have plenty of questions and you’re growing that baby of yours.
I reply with a saluting emoji then push myself upright. Bath time.
Only as I’m walking to the bathroom, I see the notification I’d forgotten about.
The text from Leo.
LEO: You doing your planner? Or watching that trashy reality show you and the girls are always going on about?
I almost drop my phone.
How does he know about the planner?
The reality show makes sense—it’s one of Bri and Faye’s favorite things to discuss.
But the planner?
That’s something we didn’t talk about during our night together, something I don’t really talk about with anyone.
I have my stash of stickers and pretty pens and washi tape that is more glitter than actual tape.
But it’s all hidden away, and it’s not like we talked about the joy of writing with a really good pen.
Even the girls don’t know that I spend most of my free time hunched over my kitchen table choosing the perfect sticker to compliment my daily spread.
So how does Leo know?
The appointment.
He’d handed me my planner so I could ask Dr. Harlow my questions.
“Dammit,” I whisper, my heart going a hundred miles per hour.
I should plug my phone in, go get in that bath.
So why don’t I?
Why do I curl up against the headboard and type out a message instead?
HARPER: No to both, actually. I’m about to get in the bath.
There’s a long pause. Then:
LEO: Be careful getting in and out of the tub. It’s easy to get lightheaded and slip.
HARPER: You read that in one of your books?
Another pause.
LEO: Yup. Because proper preparation prevents piss poor performance. Or at least, that was what my college coach used to say.
I laugh quietly.
HARPER: Why is that the most hockey thing ever?
LEO: *shrug emoji* Probably because it is.
I exhale then falter, wondering what to say. Wondering if our conversation should just end here…even though some part of me wants to keep it open.
