in mind. Thank you.
* * *
Ryan: You carry precious cargo.
The dots at the bottom of the screen indicate she’s typing but then they stop. It happens a few more times. Is she writing and deleting something?
Harper: I do, don’t I . . .
I wish I could see her expression right now. Is she happy about her cargo?
Ryan: You do. Take good care of it. And yourself too.
* * *
Harper: I was planning on it.
I stare at the screen for a few minutes before I put away my phone. Replying with a simple “good” feels stupid, so I focus on my after-training routine instead.
Unpacking my bag, eating dinner, going to bed extra early tonight.
Not thinking about Harper and our baby.
Not at all.
Especially not when I lie in bed an hour later, unable to fall asleep.
Eight
Harper
Laptop? Check.
Orange juice? Check.
Popcorn? Check.
I look at my clock when a ring sounds from the laptop speakers. Right on time.
A second after I click the answer button for the video call, Tara’s face fills the screen.
“Tara.” My smile is so wide, my lips stretch past the point of comfort. But I don’t care.
“Harpsadoodle. How are you?” Her smile matches mine, and I take a moment to simply look at her.
Tara’s brown curls piled on top of her head. A thin layer of red lipstick left on her lips. Her brown eyes sparkling at me. She looks happy. I’m not sure if it’s because of our conversation, or because of her new life on the other side of the world.
“I’m good. How are you?” It’s only been a couple days since we texted, almost a week since we talked on the phone when I got back from my California trip. But for some reason, it feels like forever. Maybe because I’m used to seeing her all the time.
It’s been a month since she left for England, and we haven’t been able to video chat as often as we’d have liked.
For starters, the five-hour time difference doesn’t always make it easy. And Tara’s busy with her new job. With building her new life. Making new friends. Exploring her new home.
Away from me.
While I’m still sitting here doing nothing new. Except of course growing a baby, but that’s a coincidence of sorts and nothing I was striving for.
I swallow past the lump in my throat, or at least try to, while also doing my best to keep my feelings from showing on my face.
That I miss her. That I’m lonely. Extremely lonely. I’ve never been a social butterfly like Tara, but I didn’t realize how much of a loner I’ve become until everyone left my life.
I used to have more friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless. But I learned rather quickly that the majority of them had been Ben’s friends, not mine, and those friendships were eliminated with our divorce. Severed cleanly like I was a broken limb that needed to be cut off and discarded.
The separation from Ben, mixed with letting go at my job right before my mom left to travel the world with her new husband, had been enough to distract me from the fact that I had no one but Tara in my life. And then she left too. It all happened so fast, my brain wasn’t able to keep up. Until it was too late.
“You okay?” Tara’s worried voice helps me focus back on the screen and the deep frown on her face.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I let out a dramatic breath, and she tilts her head in her don’t-bullshit-me way.
“Come on. Spit it out.”
I shrug. “Just exhausted.”
It would be so easy to tell her what’s really going on, but what good would that do if I make her miserable too?
“Well, you’re baking a human. That’s a lot of work.” She pops something in her mouth I can’t see. Chews. Swallows. All while regarding me with her penetrating gaze. “That’s not all though, is it?”
I shrug again.
“How are things with Ryan?”
“Haven’t heard from him since I came home Monday night.”
Tara purses her lips. “It’s Sunday.”
“I know.”
“Nothing this week?”
“Nope.”
“Have you messaged him?” Her eyebrows rise.
She hits a nerve, and I groan. “No.”
“Well . . . do I need to say more? Why should he message you if you don’t message him either?”
My eyebrows draw together as I look at her. That’s a good point but also makes me want to groan. “I . . . I don’t know.”
“There you go. If you want to talk to him, message him. Don’t be old-fashioned and expect he needs