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He’d find out. They shared too many friends. Nashville wasn’t that far away. Not telling him wasn’t an option, even if she could keep the news from him. She couldn’t live with that secret. On the off chance that he would want a relationship with their child, she had to tell him.
Would he think she’d purposely tried to trap him into staying? See her news as her trying to manipulate him? Would he understand that she didn’t want him to stay because she was pregnant when he hadn’t been willing to stay for her? That he’d destroyed the magic that had been between them forever?
She lightly banged her head against the concrete wall.
What was she going to do?
* * *
A month later, Charlie shifted the box of Savannah’s belongings to where he could free up a hand to knock on her apartment door.
And stood there, frozen.
Why wasn’t he knocking?
Why was he just standing outside her apartment like some kind of crazy man?
He was crazy.
She’d texted him earlier that day and asked what he wanted her to do with his things. He couldn’t really recall what he had at her place, other than his running gear and ear buds and maybe a few odds and ends, some clothes. Maybe, instead of saying he’d stop by and pick up his things, he should have told her to just keep it all.
But that still left him with having to deal with her belongings. She’d had some toiletries in his bathroom and some clothes that he’d boxed up. So, tonight, he’d kill two birds with one stone. Or something like that. Because he’d stripped his place of all physical reminders of Savannah and taped them inside the box. Out of sight, out of mind.
Not really—forgetting Savannah would come with time.
As he’d been driving to her place, the night he’d told Savannah about his new job kept replaying through his mind. Over and over.
She’d been so happy when she’d met him at the door, had told him she had good news. Good news she’d never gotten to share because he’d told his news first and all hell had broken loose.
She hated him. He saw it in her eyes on the rare occasion when their eyes met at the hospital. She no longer wanted anything to do with him.
Mission accomplished.
Earlier that day he’d run into her and gotten a good look. She’d been abrupt, to the point, immediately launching into a report about one of his patients. Darkness had shadowed her eyes. Her face had been devoid of the happy sparkle that had always shone so brightly. She’d looked so completely opposite to how she’d been a month ago that her greeting him at the door, her smile, her giddiness, the warmth of her kiss and hug, had played on repeat in his head.
What had caused her such joy a month ago?
Him? Yes, they had had a good relationship, but only because he’d never had any expectations of her, had never made any promises that he’d live to break.
Hand poised at the door, he closed his eyes.
He couldn’t do this. He didn’t feel up to being the jerk he needed to be. He needed her to keep hating him, to move on. Instead, he just wanted to ask her what her good news had been, to see joy in her eyes.
He could never do either. He came with too much baggage, too much risk.
What if he pushed Savannah as far as he’d pushed his mother? What if the same type of thing happened?
He turned to
go.
* * *
Fighting the urge to slam the apartment door she’d just opened back shut, Savannah stared at the man in the hallway with his back to her. At the sound of the door opening, he turned toward her. His eyes were full of raw emotion and she thought she should definitely slam the door and bolt it closed.
“My neighbor called and told me you were loitering in the hallway,” she said as explanation for why she’d opened the door since he hadn’t knocked. “She wanted to know if she should call the police.”
“What did you tell her?”
