My phone vibrates on the middle console, reminding me I still have a message waiting. Grabbing it, I see there are two messages. The first is from my dad.
Dad: Sharon and I wanted to check out that new restaurant on Fourth Street for lunch. Do you want to come with us?
What I really want to do is go home and hide in bed. But since I just flew across the whole country, I want to see as much of my dad and Sharon as possible.
Harper: I’d love to. Meet you there.
Dad: We’ll be there in about twenty minutes.
Harper: Sounds good. See you soon.
Not telling them about Ryan and the pregnancy tightens my chest, but I’m not ready for my dad to know he’ll be a grandpa this year. I’m just glad my mom’s away at the moment because there’s no way I could keep this from her. She can see straight through me.
My phone vibrates again in my hand, and I assume it’s another message from my dad. Instead, I blink at an unknown number.
Unknown number: It’s almost our anniversary, and I miss you. Can we talk?
The tightness in my chest switches to discomfort. It’s cold and heavy, and my nausea appears out of nowhere. So I do what every emotional person would do: I focus on my breathing and pretend I didn’t just get that obnoxious text message.