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“In a perfect world, yes. But we don’t live in a perfect world.”
I sniffle and hiccup. “I don’t even know what to say to him.”
“How about you start with ‘hi’ or ‘I miss you’?”
God, I want to. I want to go home and see Nico, move past whatever this is and get back to normal. Hell, I’d settle for a text from him. But he stopped sending those after the first week. I think it had to do with me threatening to keep the baby from him if he didn’t stop, but that’s beside the point. A pregnant woman can’t be held responsible for her outbursts.
Can she?
“Go and talk to him,” Harlow demands. “If you can’t resolve things, then you can come back.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, P, I promise.”
I nod and grab my cell off the table to send him a text. I’m not ready to go to the house and talk to him, but that doesn’t mean we can’t meet somewhere.
Me: Meet me at the clubhouse to talk?
I hit send. Seconds later, his response pops up.
Nico: Yes! When?
Me: Two hours?
Nico: See ya then.
“Is he willing to talk?” Harlow asks.
“I’m meeting him in an hour.” For the first time in two months, I’m hopeful. But that sizzles as a new worry creeps in. “Shit.”
“What?”
“What the fuck am I gonna wear?”
An hour and a half later I’m walking through the clubhouse and upstairs to my room. The only thing left here is the bed and nightstand. All of my other belongings were moved to the house I shared with Nico or Harlow and Malachi’s, much to Mal’s chagrin.
While I wait for Nico to arrive, I pace. I pace, and I think. What am I going to say to him? Is he going to apologize? Can we really work this out? My mind races with questions that I can’t answer.
But I know what I want the answers to be. And somehow, that makes the wait more nerve-wracking because what if the answers I want aren’t the ones I get?
Don’t think like that.
I glance at my phone to check the time. There’s still ten minutes to go so I go check myself out in the bathroom, making sure that my makeup still looks good. I didn’t dress up or anything, but I did do what I could to look as good as possible.
My jeans hug my legs, and the long-sleeved tee I’m wearing under my cut stretches to accommodate my small baby bump. I run my fingers through my hair to fluff it up, and when I’m satisfied, I go sit on the bed.
And wait.
And wait some more.
I make a conscious effort not to check the time, but my phone pings with a notification.
Nico: I’m here. Can we talk outside? If Vinnie’s attitude is anything to go by, I won’t exactly be welcome in the clubhouse.
I roll my eyes and make a mental note to tell Vinnie to mind her own damn business. As I head downstairs, I type a quick text.
Me: Coming out
