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At least it’s Elizabeth and not my own mother. Mom’s mission to see me married with children isnotwhat I need right now.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Without hesitation, she steps closer, takes my hand, hoists me up from the couch, and gives me the best mama bear hug. A fresh batch of tears spill down my cheeks. Dampens my shirt and hers. It only makes her hug me harder. Tighter. Longer. “I got you,” she says as she softly strokes between my shoulder blades. “Get it all out.”
And I do. For the longest time, Elizabeth embraces me with a fierceness only mothers possess. She strokes my hair and shushes my cries. Whispers reassurances and motherly love in my ear. When my ducts run dry, we pull apart and she holds me at arm’s length. Gives me a gentle smile that soothes the pain. A little.
Elizabeth and I take a seat among the others. Heat crawls up my neck to my cheeks as guilt swirls in my veins for stealing the spotlight during Autumn’s baby shower. For making my personal problems more of a focus than Autumn’s impending delivery.
“Sorry,” I mutter, then abandon my spot on the couch to refill my glass of water. When I return, Ifeelmore than see everyone’s stare on my face.
“What are you apologizing for?” Autumn asks.
I park on the couch, sip my water then set it on the table, but keep my eyes trained on the glass as I lean back. This isn’t my day. No one is here to celebrate me or a child I am bringing into the world. And it feels ten kinds of wrong to steal the spotlight from Autumn.
“Nothing. Can we talk about something else, please?”
“Nuh-uh,” Cora says with a shake of her finger. “You’ve been up and down a lot recently. Then, you cry your eyes out for almost an hour. Baby talk can wait a few. Am I right?” Cora looks to Autumn, who nods.
“I’d like to talk about something other than pregnancy and babies, thank you very much,” Autumn states as she purses her lips. She rests a hand on my forearm, the touch soothing yet serious. “You matter, too, Shell.”
I peer down at Autumn’s hand before meeting her dark-amber eyes. All I see is love when I look at her. Not an ounce of anger or frustration or jealousy that her baby shower has turned into some form of a Shelly Reed soap opera. A fresh sting bites the backs of my eyes and I tip my head back, blink a few times and swallow past the lump in my throat.
How did I get this lucky? To be surrounded by such wonderful women who support me regardless of what is happening in their own lives.
“Thank you.” I sniffle. “Still don’t want to be the center of attention.” I laugh without humor.
“Well, then, you best get it all out now. Tell us everything weighing you down.”
“Might need something stronger than water.”
Autumn rises from the couch and waddles toward the kitchen. “I’ve been saving this ginger beer for a special occasion, but…”
Laughter fills the room, even from me, as she returns with brown bottles of ginger beer. She pops the lid off one and hands it over. I take the first sip and go into a coughing fit.
“Jesus.” I cough into my elbow. “Is that just liquid ginger?”
She shrugs. “Don’t know, but I love it and so does the little one.” She rubs her belly.
Over the next hour, I spill my heart out to my friends and family. Tell them about every day or evening Devlyn and I spent together. Our minimal conversations and how I never knew so little could mean so much. How he always looked at me more than a male friend looks at a female friend. How he went out of his way to do nice things for me. That he always wanted more time together. And was the one that pushed us in the direction we ended up in.
“He never wanted to get me those drinks in the morning,” Elizabeth chimes in. “But he did so it wouldn’t look like he was showing his affections toward you.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What makes you say that?”
“Just because I’ve been married most of my adult life, doesn’t mean I am blind to flirting and gestures.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “No, he was just being nice.”
“Keep telling yourself that, if it helps you sleep. But that young man sees you, sweetheart. Not just the woman on the outside, but what’s here, too.” She presses a hand to her heart. “He just doesn’t know how to express that verbally.”
Elizabeth has a point. Devlyn hasn’t opened up much since I have known him. Not that I expect his entire life story after knowing me a minute. Those six-plus weeks were the best. Each week, I got a fresh glimpse at Devlyn. A new side to him. Some days, he was so deep in thought while he painted, I could’ve screamed and he wouldn’t have flinched. Other days, we were so in tune. The slightest look my direction and it heated my skin.
The night at his house… the next morning… those memories strike the hardest. Hurt the most. Everything about that memory feels like a lead-up to the kiss.
He wanted me there. In his home. In his space. Alone with him. Inches away in the dark. Snug to his body as we slept. He made me breakfast. Didn’t want me to leave. At the car, I saw it… he wanted to kiss me too.
But maybe Elizabeth is on to something.
