Chapter 141 (1/2)

My mother nodded in agreement, and I was equally annoyed and proud that the two of them were teaming up on me.

“I know she is. She gets that from you,” my mother accused.

David grabbed hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “All right, you two. She just graduated college—let’s give her a little time.”

I smiled a thankful smile to David, and he winked, kissing my mother’s hand again. He was so gentle with her, and I appreciated that.

TWO YEARS AFTER THAT

HARDIN

WE HAD BEEN TRYING to get pregnant for over a year now. Tessa knew the chances. I knew the odds were against us, like they always had been, but we still hoped. We hoped through fertility appointments and hoped through ovulation schedules. We fucked and fucked and made love and made love every chance we could get. She tried the most ridiculous wives’ tales, and I drank some bittersweet, chunky concoction that Tessa swore worked for her friend’s husband.

Landon and his wife were expecting a baby girl in three months, and we were the godparents of little Addelyn Rose. I wiped Tessa’s tears from her cheeks as she helped plan the baby shower for her best friend, and I pretended not to be sad for us while we were helping paint Addy’s nursery.

It was a normal morning. I had just gotten off a call with Christian. We were planning a trip for Smith to come visit us for a few weeks in the summer. He disguised the call as that, but he really was trying to pitch an idea to me. He wanted me to publish another book with Vance, an idea that I liked but pretended not to. I just wanted to fuck with him and pretend that I was waiting for a better offer.

Tessa came bursting through the door, still in her sweats. Her cheeks were red from the cold March air, and her hair was wild from the wind. She was returning from her usual walk down to Landon’s apartment, but she seemed rushed—panicked, even—making my chest tighten.

“Hardin!” she exclaimed as she crossed the living room and walked into the kitchen. Her eyes were bloodshot, and my heart sank to the floor.

I stood, and she held a hand up, signalling me to wait a moment.

“Look,” she said, digging into the pocket of her jacket. I waited silently and impatiently for her to open her hand.

A small stick was there. I had seen too many false tests in the last year to think anything of it, but from the way her hand was shaking and the way her voice cracked when she tried to speak, I knew immediately.

“Yeah?” was all I could say.

“Yeah.” She nodded, her voice small but full of life. I looked down at her, and she lifted her hands to my face. I hadn’t even felt the tears there until she wiped them.

“You’re sure?” I said like an idiot.