Page 13 of Glass Wings

I haven’t set foot back at work since the festival. The thought of pretending everything was normal felt impossible, so I took a few days off after finding out about the baby. My first doctor’s appointment was supposed to confirm what the test had already told me, that the little life inside me was, in fact, real. Kennedy came with me, her hand wrapped around mine the whole time, steady and warm when I couldn’t stop shaking. I keep imagining what it would have been like instead, if Easton had been there. All I wanted to see was the look on his face when we heard the heartbeat of our child for the first time.

In his place, I witnessed Kennedy burst into tears at the sudden whooshing sound that filled the room. She kept apologizing, but I didn’t mind because I was equally emotional.

When the doctor pointed out the faint flicker on the screen, my breath caught. Before I could even process it, Kennedy squeezed my hand.

“That’s my niece or nephew in there,” she had whispered. She was already calling herself Aunt Kennedy, as if claiming the role would make everything feel less terrifying, less impossible.

I love her for it, but still wish Easton were here. That he was the one crying. That we were the ones celebrating together.

A knock at the front door pulls me from the memory, and I quickly tuck my stationery into its home on my desk before rushing across the apartment to where Kennedy is waiting.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was a nightmare.” Her long blonde hair is straightened to perfection today, not a strand out of place despite the horrid humidity. She’s wearing a pink romper with a matching pink Chanel bag, which her hotshot boyfriend probably bought her after an argument. He liked to pick on her and then shower her with gifts the next day. Expensive, lavish gifts, she couldn’t afford without him.

She looks like the perfect Barbie doll today, and that small voice in my head, the one that wanted to look just like her, screams.

Shouldn’t have eaten the whole bagel for breakfast. Half would have been fine. You’re fat.

I push that stupid voice into the deepest corner of my mind and put on the biggest smile I can for my best friend because, despite the smile tugging at her pink lips, I see the water in her eyes, the smudged eyeliner. The deep sadness etched into her blue gaze. Ethan often makes her cry, and she tries so hard to hide it from everyone, even deluding herself into believing they would work things out one day.

I just want her to be happy, and I’m afraid that if I speak my mind about her rich boyfriend she’ll run away. So, I listen to her stories and add input only where necessary. I will be here for her when she needs me, just like she is always here for me now.

“You’re doing that thing with your eyes again,” she accuses, kicking her sandals off and walking into the kitchen, putting her bag on the counter. “That thing where you try to read my mind because you’re worrying too much.”

“You’re my best friend, I’m always going to worry.”

Her gaze softens, and she envelops me in the warmest embrace I’ve had in days. “You gotta worry about little bean now, not me.”

I stifle a giggle.

She’s been calling the baby little bean since we left the doctor’s office Tuesday morning. It warms my heart.

“What did you want to do today?” I ask.

“Have you told him yet?” Kennedy pulls away and heads for the fancy coffee machine Easton bought me for Christmas last year; she’s more obsessed with it than I am. After fiddling with the buttons, she puts her special mug on the silver tray and turns to face me while the machine grinds beans behind her.

“I did, and I’m going to send an ultrasound picture … I also asked him to stop calling,” I admit, walking over to my desk and picking up my forgotten mug of tea. I bring it to the kitchen and stick it in the microwave for a few seconds.

“How many letters has he sent?”

“Two.”

“How many times has he called?”

“I’m not sure, a lot. I just can’t believe he did something so stupid to land himself back there after how hard he’s been working to build this life with me.” The microwave beeps loudly, and I grab my now steaming mug of tea before leaning against the counter facing Kennedy.

“Look, I know the lawyer says he was protecting me, which I am of course grateful for, but I don’t understand why he didn’t handle it a different way. He’s never been one to handle things with his fists … but it makes me scared that he could have hurt you,” she admits softly, looking guilty. “And I hate to even say that, because I know that man loves you, but a rage like that can be so blinding, Harley.”

“One thing I know for sure is that he’d never, ever, lay a hand on me.”

“Are you sure? Because I thought the same about—” Her eyes grow large, realizing what she just admitted.

“Kennedy…”

“I didn’t mean to say anything, please just drop it, I’m dealing with it.”

“You can’t stay with him.”

“I won’t, I’m figuring it out. Now, how about you go find that laptop of yours and we make a nursery wish list?”