Page 32 of A Beginner's Guide to Forever
The following day, a delivery driver drops off the largest bouquet of white roses I’ve ever seen. There must be at least six dozen. There’s alsoa gift bag, and when I pull out the tissue paper, I find a puppy stuffed animal. It looks an awful lot like Murphy. I hug it to my aching chest and cry even more.
No one’s ever given me white roses before. I grab my phone to look up the meaning of their color, knowing all roses symbolize something. White is ... loyalty. There’s nothing more loyal than man’s best friend.
Why does Hart have to be so damn thoughtful?
There’s a card too.
Thinking of you. Hang in there.
—Hart
I can’t ignore this like the text he sent, so I call him right away.
“I didn’t know you had my address.”
“I don’t. I wanted to ask your assistant, but I didn’t want to be ... creepy. I just gave her my credit card, and she placed the order for me.”
“Oh.”That was considerate of him.“Thank you. The flowers are beautiful.”
I hear footsteps, a door close. “I hate that you’re sad. Did you get the stuffed animal?”
I smile. “Yes, he looks a lot like Murphy.”
“Is it too much ... or weird?”
I shake my head. “No, I love it. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Were you not even going to tell me about Murphy?” Scarlet says when I pick up my phone.
Her tone is accusatory. Hurt, even. I immediately feel bad and begin backpedaling.
“Um ... I was going to tell you. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Jeez, Less. Your mom texted me today, asking that I check on you. I felt like an idiot that I didn’t even know what had happened.”
“I should have told you, but I figured you had enough going on,” I say sheepishly, picking at the bagel on my plate.
“Are you all right? It’s okay if you’re not. I know how much you loved Murph.”
A pang of sadness rips through me. “I’ll be okay, Scar. I promise.”
She lets out a slow sigh. “Of course you’re going to be okay, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t hard. I’m sorry. And I would come over and check on you, but I’ve never been this tired in my entire life. I can barely get out of bed today.”
A knot of worry grows in my stomach. “That doesn’t sound good. What does your doctor say?”
“No. Not you too,” she says around a massive yawn. “Will said the same thing. Dr. Levenstein has assured me that everything is fine. The baby is healthy and so am I. I’m just a mom of two with a geriatric pregnancy who could really use a freaking nap.”
Geriatric pregnancy? The words make me flinch, but this isn’t about me or my own empty womb. It’s just such an aggressive term. I work to put it out of my head. “Still, that’s worrying, Scar. Are you getting enough sleep at night?”
She yawns again. “Apparently not. Between this baby kicking me, and my bladder’s ridiculous demands, and Crosby crawling into our bed after a bad dream ... there’s not enough sleep in the world right now.”
And once she gives birth, there will be even less sleep in her future—for months and months.
“What about vitamins?” I ask.
“I take the recommended prenatals. I’m not sure what more I can do.”
