“No, although, that’s not bad advice either.” I pause to make sure she’s listening. “If he wanted to, he would. It’s as simple as that.”
“What does that mean?”
“If he wanted to talk to you, nothing would get in his way. If you’re important to him, he’ll make the effort. Don’t accept the bare minimum. Anyone who ‘forgets’ isn’t seriously interested, so don’t waste your time or energy on him.”
“Whoa.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch her rubbing her temples. She purses her lips and lets out a dramatic explosion noise. “Mind blown, Serena.”
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m serious.”
“No, no, no,” she insists. “I mean it. His fingers aren’t broken. If he wanted to talk to me, he would’ve called. Why bother dissecting his motives?”
“Or wondering if something is wrong with you—because there isn’t, by the way,” I add. Boy, had I wasted a lot of energy worrying about that when I was younger. “The amount of effort he puts in reflects his feelings.”
“Thanks, Serena.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. I wish I’d been as smart and open to advice when I was her age. Or had anyone in my life who cared enough to give me good advice. “Spread the word to all your girlfriends.”
She giggles. “I will.”
I flip my blinker on and turn onto the long driveway to the high school. “Do you want to be dropped off in the front or the back?”
“Front is fine.” She leans forward and squints through the windshield. “I see my squad.”
“Good.” I slow to a stop behind someone’s station wagon.
Libby unclicks her seat belt and leans over, quickly kissing my cheek. “I don’t know what happened but I’m happy you’re staying with us.”
My throat tightens and I can’t form an answer. It doesn’t matter, anyway. As quick as it came, the moment’s gone. Libby flings her door open and jumps out. “Thanks, Serena!”
“Text if you need me.”
“Okay!” She slams the door and skips toward her group of friends.
Guilt prods me as I drive away from the school. My phone has been off since yesterday. Grayson’s probably worried about me. As soon as I can, I pull my car off to the side of the road.
Fear ruled all of my decisions yesterday. Today is my opportunity to do better. I might need some time to digest that I’m pregnant. But Grayson has no idea what’s going on. He returned to the clubhouse and found me gone. Shame washes over me. How immature.
I turn on my phone and sure enough, I have several voicemails and texts. My lips curve. For a man who claims he doesn’t like to text, he sure sent me enough.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I’m too chicken to listen to the voicemails. I scroll through his texts. Nothing scary or threatening. Not that I expected threats from Gray, but old habits, fears, and traumas are hard to reason with.
What do I even say? I freaked out because I’m pregnant and scared how you’ll react? That seems unfair. I don’t want to tell him through a text either.
Finally, I tap out a few words.
I’m okay. Sorry for making you worry. I just needed a breather.
I press the send button before I chicken out.
My message invites more questions instead of providing any answers. Time for what? I don’t know what else to say, though. At least, hopefully, he won’t worry.
Not feeling any better about the situation, I tuck my phone into my purse and steer my car onto the road again.
Groceries. I promised Emily I’d help out and that means not leeching off her food. Maybe I’ll make dinner for us tonight.
I stop at the market closest to her house and dash inside. First, I aim my cart toward the coffee aisle.
Wait. Can I even drink coffee?
I need to schedule an appointment with my doctor.
Why are all these things occurring to me so slowly?
Frozen in place, I stare at the shelves of colorful bags and cannisters of coffee, unable to make a decision. Decaf? Half-caf? What can I have?
“Serena?”
I jump at the unfamiliar male voice.
Heart hammering and legs shaking, I turn toward the intruder.
“Theo!” I blow out a relieved breath and paste a smile on my face, hoping my former classmate didn’t notice my ridiculous reaction. “How are you?”
His friendly smile widens but he doesn’t move in to hug me or anything. We were friendly in school but not a hugs-hello friendly. “Good. What are you doing out here? I thought you took a job in Empire?”
I swallow hard, not wanting to admit I’m now an unemployed loser—who dated one of her patients. “I did. I was. I, um, I’m living with a friend nearby. What are you doing here? I thought you were joining your family’s practice near Union?”
“I did. I’m visiting my girlfriend. She’s moving down there with me.”