Page 80 of The Summer Plans

Once I get a hold of my emotions, I continue. “I suggested adoption, and Raven supported me. And when I got pregnant when the twins were six months old, I didn’t tell Todd for weeks. Only Raven knew.”

“You were afraid of miscarrying again?”

I nod against his skin. “I didn’t think I could handle that look of disappointment from him. Lucas was our miracle rainbow baby, but I was terrified of losing him the entire time. I got pregnant once more after that, when the twins were seven. But he gave me more than just a positive pregnancy test that time, and when I confronted him, he thought the test in my hand was his mistress’s. He kept yelling, demanding to know how I got her test, and all I could think was. Why would I have your girlfriend’s pregnancy test? Apparently, she’d just found out she was pregnant too and had been threatening to tell me about them.”

“Is that when that asshole gave you an STI?”

“How did you⁠—”

“The night you were drinking. You kept rambling about crabs.”

I bury my face in his chest. “Of course I did.”

“What happened after you confronted him?”

“He moved in with her. When I miscarried a few weeks later, I was relieved. Of course I wanted that baby, but I wanted to be free of him too. And I felt like such a jerk for feeling that way.”

“You’re not a jerk. It’s understandable, and you’re allowed to feel however you want about it.” His arms squeeze me tighter and I exhale a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s our last night here, and I’m just dumping all this on you and ruining the mood.”

He tilts my head up, refusing to let me hide. “You’re doing no such thing. You had a reaction to something I said. It reminded you of a traumatic time in your life, and you shared it with me. And I want all of it. All of you. The good. The bad. The embarrassing. Every piece that makes you who you are. I’d rather hear every thought in your head no matter how terrible or unlovable you think it is than live in the absence of your warmth and words. I went years without you, living in the dark without your sunshine to warm me. I don’t ever want to go back to that. Not again. There’s nothing you could say that would scare me off. Got it?”

Biting my lip, I smile and nod as he pulls me in for a soft kiss. It’s a gentle press against my lips, but it’s filled with so much passion, as if he’s pouring every ounce of love he feels for me into the kiss.

I don’t want to go back home tomorrow, but my soul feels whole again for the first time in years because of this man. He’s spent the last two weeks proving that he’s someone I can count on. It doesn’t undo all the years we spent apart, or the insecurities I have about not being enough, but it’s a start. We’ll have to come clean to Raven eventually, but for the first time, I feel hopeful about our future together.

CHAPTER 27

RJ

What started as “a night here or there” has turned into two weeks straight of us living together. We’ve gone back and forth between our places depending on when Sophie is around. I’ve almost convinced her to move in, but we still want to talk to her kids first, and they don’t get home for another few weeks.

We agreed we needed to talk to Raven, but she was busy with a deadline at the newspaper when we got home. Each time I bring it up, Summer agrees we need to, but the worry creeps in, and I distract her. Usually with my dick. Sometimes it’s with The Dread Pirate Roberts. Either way, we end up kicking the can farther down the road.

When I get back from my morning run, Summer’s car is gone. I’ve spent years without this woman, and now that I have her, I don’t want to spend a second without her. It’s absurd. She has to work. She’s showing a house. She’ll be back shortly. But it already feels like an eternity. It’s the first time our work schedules haven’t aligned since we’ve been back.

As I’m cooling down, doing my post-run stretches, I look over and notice the garbage can isn’t on the street. I glance at my watch. Fuck me. It’s trash day. Of course my teenager didn’t do the one chore she has. She can give me a whole speech on how misogynistic it is to label taking out the trash a “boy chore”—when she’s perfectly capable of doing it—and then not do it.

I race into the house. I’ve got about fifteen minutes before that truck rumbles up this hill, and Mickey’s gonna be pissed if he drove all the way up here for nothing. He’ll probably give me hell the next time he sees me at the bar.

After I grab all the trash on the main floor, I head upstairs to empty the rest of the cans. I should probably check Sophie’s bathroom just in case. She hasn’t been here much this week since she’s been spending the night with some friends, but knowing her, she hasn’t emptied it in weeks.

When I walk in the bathroom, her trash can is overflowing. And it has no bag in it. Why is it stuffed with toilet paper? Knowing better than to go through a teenager’s trash, I grab the can and attempt to empty it into the almost-full bag I’m holding. I dump it blindly, but shit falls out and something plastic clatters to the tile floor.

Holy shit. Is that a pregnancy test?

Sophie is sixteen. Is she already having sex? It feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest as my vision tunnels, my sole focus on the words “Pregnant” on the stick in front of me.

A rumble sounds in the distance snapping me out of my haze. I scoop up all the trash on the floor as I race out of the house right as Mickey drives up. I meet him at the curb as he climbs out of the cab, giving me a fist bump before emptying my can into the back of the truck.

I feel like I’m on autopilot as I try to process the news. Mickey drives off, and I stumble into the house. I strip off my clothes as soon as I walk in the bathroom and set my watch and phone down on the counter as I walk into the shower. When the cold water hits me, I don’t even flinch. I feel numb.

CHAPTER 28

SUMMER

Every minute I’m away from RJ feels like torture. How did it happen this fast? A month ago, I was fine. Okay, I was still secretly pining for the boy next door from afar, but I could go about my day without being consumed with thoughts of him. Now, I can’t go more than an hour without wanting to text him or hear his voice.