up. I think you waited this long because you couldn’t decide. I don’t think you know, even now.”
“Harley…”
“Not wanting to lose someone isn’t the same as wanting to be with someone,” she says.
“Goodbye Greyson,” she says.
“I wish you nothing but the best,” she says.
And then, she hangs up.
I sit there, staring at the wall.
Not wanting to lose someone isn’t the same as wanting to be with someone…
Goddamnit.
That’s what it was with my dad and mom, by the end. He didn’t want to be with her, not really. All they did was fight and criticize and make up for half an hour, if that. But when the prospect of losing her arose, he did everything in his power, fought tooth and nail to get her back. Only to mistreat and cheat on her, often in the very same week.
He didn’t want to be with her, but he didn’t want anyone else with her either.
Is that what this is about? Have I become my dad? Do I not want Harley, I just don’t want to lose her? I already gave her up once, why should this be any different?
I’ve never particularly wanted one way or another to be a dad. Only, when I’m with her…
Time ebbs away. Things just work. I smile so big I feel like an idiot. I forget everything I’m supposed to do.
I get up from my chair. I know what I want to do. I know what I have to do.
Too bad they aren’t the same thing.
Chapter 34
Harley
“Flight 45 to Bangkok is now boarding. All passengers in Aisles A-H, please line up immediately,” the grouch-faced stewardess intones overhead.
“Almost time.” Hannah nudges me with a grin.
“Yep,” I agree.
“What do you think Anchovy is doing at Roger’s right now?” she asks.
“Honestly?” I say. “Probably revenge pooping all over that poor man’s house.”
“Good thing he loves me,” Hannah says with a small smile.
“And is joining us in a few weeks,” I add. “Annnnd has a sister who actually likes ferrets. I just wish we could’ve taken Anchovy with us.”
“No, you don’t.” Hannah wags a stern finger at me. “Even on road trips, Anchovy’s MO is to start projectile vomiting everywhere.”
“Little ferret vomit is actually cute?” I try.
Hannah just shakes her head, and we chuckle. I lean my head on her shoulder. “I’m just glad you’re here. I can’t believe you actually agreed to this.”
“It was a pretty crazy idea,” Hannah agrees. “But this might be our last chance with the little one on the way.”
I smile, even though it hurts. “Did you always know I would keep it?”
She nods.
“How?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I just did. I’m so sorry about… you know.”
Up until now, we’ve successfully avoided taking about it—the whole Greyson thing. At the mention, something twists in my stomach.
“It’s OK,” I say, even though it isn’t, at all. “Better we’re honest with ourselves now then months or even years down the road. I don’t want to be with someone who isn’t a hundred percent in it. Plus, he already chose the company over me.” I exhale. “Not that I blame him.”
Hannah gives my arm a squeeze.
I give my belly a pat. “And now I’ve got a bun cooking in the oven.”
Hannah glares at me. “Stop.”
“What can I say,” I continue, smiling evilly. “I’ve got a bat in the cave. I’m in the pudding club. My tin roof’s rusted. I’ve got a pea in the pod.”
Hannah groans. “Help me, Lord.”
I pat her. “Just think of the feasts we’ll have! Now that I’m eating for two.”
“Let’s start with plane food,” Hannah says eagerly. “This is the one and only time I’m A-OK with eating obscene amounts of Pringles.”
“Yeah, let’s drink our faces off and—” I freeze, realizing it at the last second. “Oh.”
“Drink apple juice for two?” Hannah tries.
I force a laugh. “Really, it’s fine. I just have to get used to it. This. Me and my little something something.”
“That’s not even a saying,” Hannah declares with an eye roll.
I sniff. “That’s what you think.”
“Flight 45 to Bangkok is now boarding. All passengers in Aisles I-P, please line up immediately,” the grouch-faced stewardess intones overhead.
Hannah and I exchange a glance. “That’s us.”
We rise.
“Harley!” someone yells.
I freeze. No way.
“Harley!” the familiar voice yells again.
I turn around. Holy fucking hell. Yeah way. It’s Greyson, racing towards us.
“I… you…” he wheezes. “Don’t go.”
I gape at him as he skids to a stop right in front of me. “Please. I need to… talk to you.”
“OK.” I stand there staring at him. This doesn’t feel real.
“I’ll give