Page 86 of Entirely Yours
“How about I lock myself in this apartment the moment the clock strikes twelve on the eve of my birthday? Maybe I’ll hit my head on a shelf, which will sprinkle magic glitter on me, and then I’ll wake up as a thirteen year old.”
“Did you just reverse the plot of13 Going on 30?”
“So what if I did?” She takes a sip of her latte. “Anything to avoid marrying him.”
“Excuse me? Marrying who?” I’m not sure I heard her correctly.
Chloe bursts back in the room, saving Cole from having to answer my question. “We aren’t done talking about this,” I tell her in a harsh whisper.
The bitch ignores me, instead asking Chloe if she wants to give Ernest a treat. Of course, the answer is yes, and Cole shuffles quickly out of the room leaving me to wonder what the hell she was talking about.
In the following week, I work really hard on assuming positive intent with Jules. He’s not making it easy on me though, avoiding any and all baby related questions.
He won’t even talk to me about names, telling me he wants to keep simmering on it any time I bring it up. We even had an appointment with Dr. Mitchell this week. Jules was so excited to see the baby, hanging the new sonogram up on the fridge when we got home. I figured that might be a good time to ask himabout names again. Instead, Jules suggested we make a grocery list for the week with “nutrient dense” foods.
I told him I only wanted to eat thirty cent ramen for the rest of the week.
Maybe I’m being a little pouty.
While driving to the studio for one of our last rehearsals before the Labor Day festival, I try some of the new grounding techniques Iris has taught me. I notice the feeling of the steering wheel beneath my fingers, the sound of cars passing by, the warmth of the bright sun soaking into my skin.
I only feel mildly better.
By the next weekend, I’m so high-strung, one poorly worded interaction could easily send me over the edge.
I’m halfway through curling my hair when the power goes out.
Oop. That’ll do it.
Keeping this baby shower from Thea has proven to me that I am the world’s worst liar. I can tell Thea knows something is going on, but she hasn’t outright asked me why I’ve been particularly on edge. In an effort not to ruin the surprise, I decided keeping my distance would be easiest.
I was wrong. It has not been easy.
I miss her.
Gabe, Ben, and I are currently at Louie’s decorating for the shower later tonight. I’m glad it will finally be here so there won’t be any secrets between me and Thea anymore.
She’s got her studio’s performance at the Sassafras Labor Day Festival this afternoon. Once we finish up decorating here, the plan is for me to go cheer on her dancers and then suggest to Thea that we grab a bite to eat at Louie’s to celebrate what I’m sure will be an exciting day for her.
We looped everyone else in on the plan, except Chloe because I get the feeling she’s an even worse liar than Iam. I’m hanging a banner that says “Emmett Henry Rose-Bardot” across the wall when my phone starts ringing. Thea’s name flashes across the screen, and I immediately answer.
“Thea? Everything okay?”
Her answering sob breaks my heart.
“Thea. Answer me, what’s wrong?” Frantically, I hop off the stool I was standing on and start looking for my car keys. I can hear her crying through the line, making it difficult for me to focus on where the fuck I left my keys.
“The—” She takes a shuddering inhale. “Power is—” Another sob. “Out! And my hair?—”
I only half listen to the rest of her sentence because I’m so damn relieved she and the baby are safe.
“Where’s Hank?” I ask, interrupting her latest round of tears.
“He”—she sniffles—“went to pick up the ribbon for the bows. I was supposed to”—sniffle—“get them but I totally forgot.”
“Okay, I’m going to send Gabe over to help you. The breaker probably tripped.”
“Gabe?” she questions. “Why aren’t you coming?”
