Page 34 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

I inhale a shaky breath and nod. I’m not sure why I’m even upset over my parents not coming. Honestly, I’m not even sure it has anything to do with me being pregnant. More than likely they completely forgot.

Luke, sensing the shift in my thoughts, says, “It’s their loss, Bertie. Not yours. You deserve more than they give you.”

My lower lip begins to wobble, and I push back the tears.

I hate that I’m letting this get to me. It’s a graduation, that’s all. In the big scheme of things, it’s not that important, but deep down when it comes to them it’s like I’m still a little girl begging for scraps that show they care.

“It’s okay to cry,” he says softly, pulling me closer against his side. “It’s okay to let yourself feel sad or angry or whatever it is you need to feel.”

“I hate that I care,” I admit, voice wobbly. “When they so obviously don’t.”

That’s when the tears come. Hard and fast and impossible to ignore. I swear it feels like all I do these days is cry over something.

Luke gathers me into his arms, his big hand coming up to cradle the back of my head. “I’m so sorry, baby,” he croons.

My fists latch onto his graduation gown, holding on for dear life.

I hate that I’m having this breakdown surrounded by the public, but it can’t be helped.

I manage to get a grip on myself and when I pull my head away from Luke’s chest, he cups my cheek, carefully wiping away the mascara smeared beneath my eyes.

“They don’t deserve you.” His lips graze my forehead. “It’s their loss, not yours. Remember that.”

I finally let him go. “Let’s find your mom.”

Luke checks his phone and says, “She’s by the stadium exit.”

He takes my hand and I let him—not because I want the security of his hold, but because it makes the most sense to navigate through the crowd of students and parents.

“Oh, honey,” his mom says when she spots us. At first, I think she’s talking to Luke but then she pushes her way between us and wraps her arms around my neck.

Ugh, I guess it’s apparent I’ve been crying.

“I’m okay,” I assure, patting her back.

“It’s okay if you aren’t,” she whispers in my ear.

I had confided in her just last night about how things went with my parents and that they weren’t coming. I was kind of surprised with as close as Luke is with his mother that he hadn’t told her, but he’d simply shrugged and said, “That’s your story to tell, not mine.”

“What are your plans for the evening?” Jocelyn asks once she’s let me go.

The scent of her vanilla perfume clings to me, providing residual comfort.

Luke looks to me for an answer. “We’ll stop by Rosie’s place later. Her family is having a dinner. I don’t know how long we’ll stay, but she wants us to come.”

I’m not sure when I started referring to Luke and me as a “we” and “us” but it feels like we’re a collective unit at this point.

“I’d love to meet her, and Daire too, one of these days,” she says, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You both talk about them, but I’ve yet to meet them.”

Luke throws his arm around her shoulders. “We’ll make it happen soon, Mom.”

I force a smile, trying not to think about all the other things that need to happen soon that are much more pressing than his mom meeting our friends.

This pregnancy is flying by and it’s terrifying me. The idea of an infant squirming in my arms in only a few months threatens to send me into cardiac arrest.

We stop by Daire and Rosie’s place for a short time. Frankly, the day has been a long one and my feet are killing me, so a quick appearance is all I feel like making.

“You ready to go home?” Luke asks, cranking up his truck that’s parked out front of their townhouse. He offered to drive my car over here, but truth be told I prefer the rumble of his old pickup. There’s something sturdy and comfortable about it, much like the man himself.