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I’m not even sure why I do it, until I remember what Luke said about why he and his college girlfriend broke up.
She wanted kids.
And he wasn’t sure if he did.
I wash my hands, feeling my heart grow heavier by the minute.
Maybe Luke’s changed his mind,I think.
But what if he hasn’t?
I open the door and force a smile. “What’s up?”
He grins down at me. “I finished up at the office and I’m ordering brunch from Good Egg before they close. Do you want anything?”
“Um.” I know I need to tell Luke about the baby.
But if I tell him, and he doesn’t want it, then this thing between us will be over. Sure, we’ll still be married. But we’ll be back to being strangers.
No, worse than strangers. We’ll bemarriedexes.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I’m not ready to deal with that. I need to figure out how this baby is going to affect my life, my career. I need the world to feel stable under my feet before I can face the possibility of losing Luke.
“Hazel?” Luke ducks his head, worried. “You ok?”
I blink. “Yes. Sorry. I’m just...I’ve only got a week left to finish your autobiography. I think I’m going to go back to my old apartment for a week to focus.”
“The hell you are,” Luke says. “If you need to be alone to write, then I’m getting you a hotel room. You liked the place we got married, right?”
Before I can say that that is the last place in the world I want to stay right now, Luke pulls out his phone and shoots an email to somebody.
Five minutes later, I have a reservation for a suite.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say helplessly.
“Nonsense.” Luke drops a kiss on my lips. “I’ll miss you. But I get needing space to focus.”
He grins. “I can’t wait until this book is done and I can have you all to myself again.”
I smile weakly and nod.
29
LUKE
It’s been six days since Hazel moved into the hotel to finish my book, and I miss her like hell.
I wander into the kitchen and start slicing myself an apple. I’m hungry, but I feel too restless for a real dinner. Hazel’s absence feels like a dark cloud that fills my whole home.
I miss the sex, sure, but it’s more than that. I miss the way the apartment feels when she’s in it. I miss hearing her typing away on her laptop in the other room. I miss talking about our days over dinner, and I miss her laughing while we watch some dumb movie.
God, I miss her laugh.
The knife slips, and I nick my finger.
“Fuck,” I swear. The cut isn't deep, but the blood wells up. I need a band aid.
I wander into the nearest bathroom and start rooting around in drawers looking for one. I find an old box of bandages and start to shut the drawer, when I notice what else is in that drawer.
