Page 89

Harriet: Scandalous!

Margot: Didn’t you and Warren…you know…do it on a Ferris wheel

Harriet: Margot! Now is not the time!

Harriet: And we didn’t fuck.

Parker: That was later that night and hellooooo Ethan!

Talia: I’m going to block you all.

“Are they giving you a tough time?” Tate chuckles.

I look over at him and quickly lock my phone. “Nothing more than usual.”

He nods slowly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, you know.” My head tilts in question. “What we did earlier. If you’d rather not tell the girls, I get it. They’re being nice to me now, but I know all isn’t forgiven.”

“Doesn’t it mean anything?” I press, a tinge of hurt in my tone. Where’s this change in attitude from?

He drops his head on a sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?”

“Forget it. It’s late and I’m tired.” He unbuckles his seat belt and reaches for the door handle.

“Did I do something wrong?” I sift through the last few hours. The only negative was my mom’s call, and surely that isn’t capable of ruining such a great night.

“No. You did everything right, Tally Girl.”

THIRTY-FIVE

TALIA

ONE YEAR AGO–EARLY JUNE

I didn’t tell Tate we weren’t successful until my period came two days later. I needed to sit with my guilt and disappointment a little longer before I broke the news. We were both sad, only for different reasons.

“It’s okay,” he’d said. “We can try again next month.”

I nodded along, holding back the bile rising in my throat. I was a terrible person. There’d be no trying next month. Or the month after. My conflicting thoughts had run riot in my head, leaving me wide awake at night and distracted at work. I wanted nothing more than to be a mom, to make Tate a dad, but we were not in any position to start a family, and I didn’t know how to tell him.

In the past week, things were odd. We didn’t fight. We didn’t shout. We floated around one another, coexisting. He was there. I was here. Even when we were in the same room. It was like we were bracing for impact, foreseeing a cataclysmic storm.

I’d spent today working in the office—again. Did he know I was avoiding him? I should’ve been prepping for a settlement meeting this Friday. Instead, I sat at my desk, going over and over what I was going to say to Tate, and by the time I arrived on our street, I still didn’t have an answer.

“Ugh. Not again,” I grumble when I spot a huge monster of a truck parked in my spot. We live in a small complex on Main Street. We still use Tate’s old pickup, sharing it between us. He hadn’t used it since signing the contract, making use of the car service the label offered.

I climb out of the truck, scowling at the shiny beast hogging two parking spots before walking up the short flight of stairs and into our apartment. It’s dinky, a little dated, but it’s ours. Photos, keepsakes, evidence of our life together strewn all over the place.

“Hey!” Tate bounds toward me from the small kitchen, voice and expression filled with excitement. “Don’t take your shoes off. We’re going for a drive. I have something to show you.”

I frown, my toe half wedged behind my heel. “My feet are killing me.”

“You won’t regret it. C’mon.” He grabs my purse and laptop bag, placing them on the counter before hurrying me out of the apartment.

“Wait. My keys.” I glance over my shoulder.

“We don’t need them.” He grins and reveals an unfamiliar set. Outside, he clicks the fob and the lights of the gas guzzler flash to life.