been on me. Although he didn’t carry the child, he did plan for him, for a new life for us.
“I’ve been better,” he admits. “I’ve missed you. I’d really like to see you.”
My heart sinks. I’ve missed him too.
“Is there any way…” he starts and falters, “any way we could see each other?”
I know I need to face him. To say goodbye. But a part of me is afraid he’ll pull me back in. It seems I’m completely without control when I’m around him.
“Yes,” I tell him. “We should talk.”
“Yes,” he agrees, his voice cheerful. “I also have something for you.”
I shake my head. “No more gifts, Weston.”
He sighs. “I thought I could come to you,” he says. “There’s a hiking trail not too far from your house, the one with the meadow.”
I smile. “I know the one. I’ve never pegged you for the rugged type.”
He laughs. “Well, I’m not really. But the day is beautiful and the colors are just starting to turn,” he points out. “I thought it would be a nice change.”
“It would.”
“What time can I pick you up?” he asks. And it sounds like we’re just going on another date. I hope that’s not what he thinks, because that’s definitely not what we’re doing.
“About two…or I could meet you there.” I venture, not wanting it to look like a date.
“I insist,” he presses on. “I’ll pick you up.”
“Sure,” I say with a heavy heart.
I really hate break-ups.
Gabe digs into his plate. “This omelet is really good.”
“Thanks,” I say, my appetite just about non-existent.
“Yeah, Mom,” Chloe echoes her dad. “I’m glad you remembered to not put mushrooms in mine.”
“How could I forget?”
Gabe downs a sip of orange juice. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“Well, I don’t know, but I am going for a hike with a friend at two.”
“Which friend?” Claire pipes up.
I wince a little and look at Gabe. “A friend from Chicago.”
“Do we know her?”
I shake my head and venture another look up at Gabe, who knows who I’m speaking of. “I thought it was time to say goodbye because I’m moving to Phoenix soon.”
Claire drains her small glass of chocolate milk. “Will she miss you?”
I top off her glass. “I think so.”
“As long as she doesn’t follow you to Phoenix,” Gabe chimes in. “I don’t think you should give her a forwarding address.”
Claire looks at me, wide-eyed. “Is she crazy?”
“A little bit,” Gabe says.
“Who is this again?” Chloe asks. “Who are you talking about?”
I sigh. “No one you know.”
I wait for Weston, sitting on the front step, dreading the events ahead. “Let this all be over with soon,” I say to no one in particular. I’m all decked out in my hiking gear: skinny jeans, a cotton t-shirt and hoodie, hiking shoes and a red baseball cap with my pony tail tucked through the hole in the back.
Gabe walks by as he waters the flowers in the front. Claire trails behind him. She’s practically glued to him these days. She’s always been a daddy’s girl, but lately, it’s worse — ever since he left us. I think the poor little thing was left with abandonment issues. “Wow,” he says, “you look hot.”
I laugh. “What?”
“You could have tried to look a little less attractive.”
I smile. “I’m wearing a t-shirt and jeans and the ugliest shoes on the planet. I don’t even have make-up on.”
“You’re just a natural beauty, I guess.”
I laugh. “Yeah, right.”
“Is he picking you up soon?”
“Who’s picking you up?” Claire chimes in, curious.
“Uh…” I stammer, suddenly remembering my little white lie. I lean in to Gabe. “Could you bring her in, you know…”
He nods. “Hey, let’s go in for a freezie,” he says with a pat on her shoulder.
“Yay,” she cheers.
He looks at me one last time as they make their way in. “Don’t have too much fun now,” he says with a hint of a scowl.
Weston’s sleek black sports car pulls into the driveway. I’m not sure what kind it is — I know nothing about cars — but it looks expensive. I run over to the car, and the window slides down.
“Hi,” he says, leaning back in a fitted t-shirt and sleek silver-rimmed shades, his rebel lock of hair acting up. He looks like the coolest guy on earth. But I know he looks cooler than he is, because I know the real Weston — the one who uses hand sanitizer, organizes his desk with military precision, and who can’t stand tardiness.
I smile. “Nice day.”
He flashes his wide smile. “Get in.”
CHAPTER