“All is fair in love and football. Speaking of football, Logan’s first game is Saturday against Villanova.”
“He must be so excited.” I try to act like it doesn’t bother me, but it does. I wish I could be there for him, both of them. “Is Ashley gonna be there?”
“Sure is. Her and Robert. Can’t wait. Dad and I bought a box, and he invited them.”
“What the fuck is wrong with your father?”
He laughs. “I would’ve invited them either way, for Logan … for the last game which, by the way, is November eighth against Duke. Maybe you can all come. And if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll make you come at the Dome.”
“I’ll see you next week?”
“Unless you want me earlier. I am a man of leisure now, you know, which is code for ‘I’m bored out of my fucking mind.’”
I laugh again. “I miss you.”
“How much?” His voice is deeper, huskier.
“Enough.”Too much, I think.
“I can fly, too.” He pauses for a moment. “Virginia Beach?”
“You can’t.” I laugh.
“Oh, Tessa, you have no idea what I would do for you.” His voice is full of hidden intent.
“Lucas, I will see you next week.”
“Sure thing, baby. Now go take a nap. You’ll need it.”
He hangs up before I can say anything else.
?
After dinner with Harper, Maddox, Emma, Brody, and the girls, I look at the clock. It’s eight thirty, and I am exhausted. I suppose it’s because some, not all, of the emotional gloom I have been dealing with lately is slowly disappearing.
“You tired, Harper?”
“Exhausted all the time.” She rubs her belly.
“How’s my granddaughter?”
“Perfect. She’s moving. Do you wanna feel?”
Maddox is sitting next to her with earbuds in, listening to his playlist for a new set they are performing tomorrow. His hand is on her stomach. It is always on her stomach.
“Do you think he’d mind?” I joke.
“Mom, anytime you want to touch my belly, you know you can.” She smiles sadly at me.
I look at her and am struck with the knowledge that I haven’t even touched her belly since she got pregnant. I haven’t made a big enough deal about what is the most precious time in my daughter’s life.
I feel my eyes burn.
“Harper, I am so sorry. Oh my God, where have I been for seven months?”
“It’s okay, Mom. You’ve been busy.” Her eyes tear, as well. “I understand.”
“I don’t. Not one bit. Oh, Harper Ann, I—”