He hadn’t forgotten Piper’s attempt to bring up the subject on the night of their argument. They’d tried to discuss it on four separate occasions since getting home, but as soon as the word “pregnant” was uttered, Piper always ended up on her back, Brendan bearing down on her like a freight train.
So. No complaints.
Fanning her face, Piper climbed out of bed and went through her morning routine of jogging and walking Abe to the museum. When she got home an hour later, Hannah was just zipping her packed suitcase, and Piper’s stomach performed an uncomfortable somersault.
“I’m going to miss you,” Piper whispered, leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb.
Hannah turned and dropped down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ll miss you more.”
Piper shook her head. “You know . . . you’re my best friend.”
Her sister seemed caught off guard by that, giving a jerky nod of her head. “You’re mine. You’ve always been mine, too, Pipes.”
“If you hadn’t come . . .” Piper gestured to their surroundings. “None of this would have happened. I wouldn’t have figured it all out on my own.”
“Yes, you would have.”
Piper blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “You ready to head to the airport?”
Hannah nodded, and—after kissing the Pioneer record player good-bye—she wheeled her suitcase to the front of the house. Piper opened the door to let her sister through, frowning when Hannah pulled up short. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?”
Piper followed her sister’s line of vision and found a brown parcel, in the shape of a square, leaning up against the porch. It definitely hadn’t been there when she returned from her run. She stooped down and picked it up, inspecting the delivery label and handing the box to her sister. “It’s for you.”
Letting go of the handle of her suitcase, Hannah pried open the cardboard, revealing a cellophane-wrapped record. “It’s . . . oh.” Her throat worked. “It’s that Fleetwood Mac album. The one that spoke to me at the expo.” She tried to laugh, but it came out choked. “Fox must have tracked it down.”
Piper gave a low whistle.
Hannah continued to stare down at the album. “That was so . . . friendly of him.”
It was definitely something. But Piper wasn’t sure “friendly” was the right word.
Several beats passed, and Piper reached over to tuck some hair behind her sister’s ear. “Ready to go?” she asked softly.
“Um . . .” Hannah visibly shook herself. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. Let’s go.”
A couple of hours later, Piper stood on the dock and watched the Della Ray approach, her pulse going faster and faster the closer it came, white wake spreading out around the vessel like rippling wings. The crew’s significant others, mothers, and fathers stood around sipping coffee in the cool fall weather, speculating on the trip’s haul. They’d been kind to Piper this afternoon, but more important, she was learning to be kind to herself.
Learning to love herself, just as she was.
Frivolous and silly on occasion, determined and stubborn on others. When she was mad, she raged. When she was sad, she cried.
And when she was happy, like she was in that moment, she threw her arms open and ran right toward the main source, letting him sweep her away . . .