Chapter 44 | Liz

Chapter 44

Liz

I do another lap of the store. My feet tread the same spots, and I pass the same shelves, not stopping to peruse. I’ve been here for a half hour already. First, I ordered a coffee—half-decaf—and then a cookie. My stack of books is four high, including What to Expect When You’re Expecting . But that was all in the first fifteen minutes. The cashier eyes me as I stop near the doors again. I survey the parking lot but don’t expect to see anything. He would come through the mall anyway. Not that Spencer is coming. Apparently.

There are a few options left to me—save face and let my ghosting of him stand without explanation, show up at his place of employment across the street and demand he speak with me, or text him one last time before reverting back to option one. I pull out my phone. If you don’t come to me, I’m coming to you, I type before I can overthink it. Not exactly mature, but desperate times.

Fine. His text comes through almost immediately. Give me five.

The victory is hollow, but at least it’s a victory. I plop my stack of books down in front of the cashier, my membership card already sitting on top. Five minutes barely gives me time to find a seat in the café, and I can’t exactly be toting a pregnancy book around when he arrives.

Ten minutes later, Spencer sits down across from me, looking none too pleased. He crosses his arms, and he gazes at the promotional rack behind me with his jaw set. He doesn’t want to be here. I get it. Ten days of silence will do that. Especially if you’ve just had sex for the first time.

“Thanks for coming.” Dammit. I swore not to say something so inane, and yet it’s the first thing to tumble out of my mouth.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

“You didn’t answer any of my texts or calls.”

His eyes narrow, and a severe line I’ve never seen on him before forms across his forehead. “Doesn’t feel great, does it?”

I totally deserve that. After finding out I was pregnant and the debacle at my apartment, I disappeared for ten days.

His gaze shifts to mine. “I have Ryan this week, Liz. And having to listen to you tell me how having sex with me convinced you to go back to your husband is not something I want to deal with when I’m supposed to be spending time with my son. He deserves better than that.”

I blink, pushing away the flutters at what a good father he is. Is that what he thinks? How could he think that after how well we fit and how— I will not think about that night right now. “That’s not what happened.”

“What?”

“Sleeping with you.” I clear my throat and lower my voice. We don’t need an audience. “If anything, it had the opposite effect.”

“Then what, Liz? You canceled dinner and then disappeared. If it’s something with Zoey, I can help. I can be intimidating too.”

“It’s nothing with Zoey.” I clasp my hands and put them on the table in front of me. “I’m ten weeks pregnant.”

“That’s not possi—” He cuts off as the realization hits him. “It’s his baby.”

“Yes.”

He sits back in his chair, and his arms fall from their perch across his chest. The hardness in his expression softens into something else entirely. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” I hiccup through a laugh. “That was my first reaction.”

“What was your second?” A hint of his usual demeanor is in the words, and the vise gripping my chest relaxes.

I wait until he meets my gaze to speak. “Abject fear. And then joy.”

He smiles for a moment before his brow furrows again. “Are you going back to him? Co-parenting? What?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told him yet.” I hold up a hand when his expression turns judgmental. “He’s out of town and not returning my calls.” What I don’t add is that it’s been five days since my trip to the house and my voicemail. Julian’s lack of response is jarring. “This isn’t something to leave on a voicemail or send in a text.”

“Fair enough.”

“But I couldn’t not tell you another minute.” Tears want to come, but I will them back. “I hated not picking up your calls or answering your texts. But I couldn’t lie to you.” He doesn’t say anything. Maybe I am too late. “Maybe it would’ve been easier to let you believe I ghosted you.”

“That is never easier.”

“I know this is too much,” I blather on. “Still technically married is one thing, but pregnant with said husband’s baby is completely different. I don’t expect—”

“I think,” he says, cutting me off, his tone edged, “I get to decide what is too much for me.”

I nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

I’m not sure what his words mean, but they don’t fall like I expect them to. Spencer being in was not part of the equation. Yes, sure, if it was his baby, but it’s not. And this is drama and baggage and whispers and side-eyes. It’s not scandalous like my father’s affair and Zoey’s existence, but it’s still fodder. I’m tired of being fodder. I don’t even know if Julian is in or out. If my marriage is paused or over. There are too many questions and no answers. Except one. This baby is mine.

“I think,” I say, my words careful, “that right now, I need to take a step back. I can’t date you like there aren’t a million decisions I have to make. I can’t go back to Julian as if this summer didn’t happen either, because it did. You did. You changed everything, Spencer. But this baby has to be my priority. Every decision I make now is for the both of us.”

“You know I understand.” He covers my hand with his own, the first time he’s touched me since this conversation began. And it’s still there. All of it—the spark, the wonder, the desire. But it can’t be.

“I’m still sorry,” I say, squeezing his hand.

“Me too.” He stands and kisses the top of my head. His hand lingers on my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Liz.”