Page 3 of Mending Hearts

Gently, I swept her hair back from her face, securing it at her nape in my fist while she dry heaved into the can. I tried to avert my gaze, pretty sure she didn’t want witnesses to this. Was this morning sickness? Emily, my sister, had been violently ill when she first got pregnant with Amir. She lost weight, a lot of weight, during the early part of her pregnancy. If our father hadn’t been a doctor, we might have panicked. Mia was already thin—bordering on too thin. Had she looked this gaunt a couple of months ago?

When she stood up, I released her hair, grabbed a box of tissues, and passed them to her.

“Pregnant?” My mind scrambled trying to process the confession.

She wiped her mouth and threw the tissue into the can. Her lips twisted as if she was annoyed, and she pressed her fingers into her forehead. Stooping low, she picked up her glasses from where she’d let them fall on the floor. “Yep. Pregnant. Don’t worry. I’m not keeping it. Ican’tkeep it.”

“Oh.” The weight of her words settled faster than the initial revelation. “Um…” I searched for the right way to phrase my question. Was it possible to ask without offending her? Probably not. If the baby wasn’t mine, her trip here made no sense. But a child was too important to let assumptions lead the way.

“Yes, this baby is yours. Whatever you’ve read, whatever you’ve heard, I don’t sleep with random men all the time.”

The night of the Magic Men concert, she’d invited me back to her hotel after I stitched up her dress. I’d said yes because I was between relationships, because she was pretty, because my dad’s funeral was the next day, and anything that took my mind off that was exactly what I’d needed.

Afterward, I’d avoided searching for any information on her, on grilling Grady, on figuring out whether Ishouldn’thave slept with her. Once a decision was made, there was no going back. Now, there were consequences, and I needed to face those head-on too.

“How old are you, exactly?” Inside, I cringed. My sisters, Emily and Maggie, would beat me with their shoes for this question. I should have asked it that night.

“You don’t know how old I am?” Her eyebrows went up in an almost comical look of disbelief.

“Do you know how oldIam?” I countered, crossing my arms.

Her gaze traveled from my feet to meet my eyes. I remembered I’d liked her eyes. They were a strange blue-green, and they changed like a mood ring depending on how close she got to climaxing.

Jesus. Why did I let my mind wander there?

“No. But I’m famous. You should know my age.” She gave me an assessing gaze. “No crow’s feet, no gray hair. There’s like a ten-year window here. I don’t know. Like, thirty?”

“Like thirty-five. Just had my birthday not long ago. I’m Grady’s age.” I cracked a smile.

“Oh, Lord.” Mia ran a hand down her face. “Another couple years and you could be my dad.”

“What?” All the blood drained from my face. My heart kicked once in my chest.Please don’t be underage.I should have asked. Or searched it up, or something.Fuck. So fucking dumb. She was famous. I should know her age. With all of the makeup and self-confidence, she’d seemed much older than she looked now, standing here with a bare face and a green tinge to her face. “How oldareyou?”

“I’m going to be twenty-one in a couple months. Too young to be a mother, that’s for sure.” She waved a hand around her head. “Also, my life is a circus. I can’t bring a kid into that.”

Relief coursed through me. Young, but legal. I could live with that. “So, you’re just here to tell me…” I cleared my throat, the words getting stuck there unexpectedly. “You’re having an abortion?”

“I thought you should know.” She shrugged and grabbed a lollipop from my tin, read the flavor, clutched her stomach, and put it back.

I couldn’t imagine she needed me to pay for the procedure. This whole conversation was surreal. Mia Malone was in my store, telling me she was pregnant. In one breath, she made me a dad, and in the next, she yanked it away.

A dad.

My father, who’d died at the end of October from a brain aneurysm, rose to my mind. Sadness swept over me at the realization that my fatherwould never meet my future children, and would never know my wife. I’d had that thought before, but it had never punctured my heart quite so deeply. My father would never know this child or any other.

“Anyway,” Mia said, drawing me out of my head. “I wanted you to know.”

“Did you want me to go with you?” I took a step around the desk toward her. My mind felt full, stuffed with cotton batting. Thoughts jumbled together. Mia was here, pregnant, the baby was mine. If I woke up right now drenched in sweat, all of this a terrible dream, I’d be less surprised.

She shook her head, the layers of dark hair swaying against her shoulders. “No. I’m…I booked an appointment with someone. I’m here for the night and then I’m gone again.” Her gaze strayed from the surface of the desk to my face, and her blasé expression shifted for the briefest moment. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. The trash can is there.” She pointed in the direction of my can. “If you’re going to be sick, too.”

Did I look sick? Shocked was more like it. Definitely shocked and not entirely sure what I should do or say. “Do you have someone to go with you?” She shouldn’t be alone. Too young to be a mother, probably too young to do this without support, too. “A best friend, a parent…” The color drained from her face.

“Lord, no. No one knows.No one knows.” Her hand landed on my forearm. “No one can know.”

“No one?” I remembered the entourage she brought to Little Falls in October for the benefit. Dancers, backup singers, bodyguards. A blond woman who must have been her manager had hovered in the dressing room, eyeing me with suspicion until it was clear I could really sew.

“I’m taking care of it. No one needs to know.” She met my gaze with an unexpected intensity.

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