up. Edgar starts toward it too, but my dad stops him. “You should probably take Jo home. She looks tired.”
“I’m fine,” I say, even though I do feel the tiniest bit sleepy.
“Don’t lie to your father, Jo. I know you. Your eyes are getting droopy.”
I blink hard and open my eyes wide. “See?”
“Your father’s right, Jo.” Edgar holds my hand. “You should get some rest. You were up late last night. All those invoices you sent out.”
I stare at him, torn between laughter and respect over his lies. I was up late last night not because I was busy sending out invoices, although I did some of that too, but because he kept me up.
But I can’t tell my parents the truth, so I just laugh. “Fine, we can go. You carry the soup.”
“Of course.”
We hug and say goodbye. It takes a good fifteen minutes. Once I have the baby and bring him over, it’ll take half an hour because everyone will need to hug and kiss the baby. Just thinking about it makes me smile. The little bun is going to know he’s the most beloved baby of them all.
“What are you looking so pleased about?” Edgar says as we climb into the car.
“Oh, the baby.” I tell him what I was thinking.
He smiles. “Your family’s great. She’s going to be lucky to have grandparents like your folks.”
“He. It’s a boy.”
“We’ll see,” Edgar says calmly.
When we’re home, Edgar gets a call as I’m putting the soup away in the fridge. His serious face grows even more somber, and he starts scowling.
“Got it.” He tosses the phone on the counter and sighs.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I have to be in Tempérane for about a week.” His dark expression says he’d rather not, and whoever’s dragging him home will pay. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? I know you have a job in Louisiana. Honestly, I’m surprised you’ve been able to get away for this long.”
“I hate leaving you alone.”
I put my fingertip on the furrowed skin between his eyebrows. “I won’t be alone. I have the baby. And my family and friends. I’m going to be fine. And the baby isn’t even due for, like, eight months!”
To be honest, I’m a little sad he has to go, but he’s already so unhappy about it that I feel like I need to be upbeat as a counterbalance. He’s supportive about my career, and I should do the same for him. Otherwise, this isn’t going to work.
“So when are you flying?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning. As early as possible. I’ll be gone before you’re up,” he says.
“Okay.” I give him what I hope is an understanding smile, although I hate it that he has to go so early.
And sure enough, when I wake up the next day, Edgar’s side of the bed is empty and cool. Disappointment blooms, even though I knew he wasn’t going to be here.
I reach over and see a note on his pillow.
Jo,
I’ll try my best to be back as soon as possible. Be sure to take care of yourself. Call or text if you need anything.
Yours,
–Edgar
It’s a short note, but given how serious and somber he often is, I’m pretty sure this is the closest thing to a love sonnet I’m going to get. And I’m okay with that. I’ve had enough empty, pretty words to last a lifetime.
Maybe I’m turning into a pragmatist. A baby probably does that to a person, I decide. I rest a hand on my belly, feeling pretty wise about it all even without my coffee.
I check the time. A little after nine. I slept in later than I wanted. Since I have an appointment to see Erin today—which I absolutely refuse to miss again—I get out of bed, munch on some fruit salad and yogurt from the fridge, then take a shower. This place has one huge advantage over mine—instant hot water and multiple shower heads. I never understood why anybody would want to have so many heads until I moved in with Edgar. But now I know, I think as the water sluices down my body in rivulets, gently massaging my muscles. It’s such a pampered way to start the day.
An hour of fussing over my hair, makeup and outfit later, I’m ready. I put on a pale lemon dress with blue and green accents. I want to appear friendly and in charge but not overly bossy. My makeup is also on the muted side, except for my lips, which I coat with an apple