Page 39 of Henhouse
The receptionist made a few keystrokes on the laptop before her, seeming to check the schedule for the day. “They should be clear, and the staff has been warned you’d be in today. Just knock first. They’ll let you know if you can come in.”
“Sounds good. Thank you.”
And with that, Brayden strode down the beige linoleum hall, innumerable doors flanking him all the way. He sighed. It was going to be a long afternoon.
Brayden pushed his cart down the eastern hallway on the first floor. So far, he’d only had to replace one extinguisher and encountered two occupied rooms. His sweeps didn’t take long, so no one gave him grief, but he preferred not to interrupt. He still had thirty exam rooms, suites, and staff lounges to inspect before he could call it a day.
He pulled up to the next door and knocked lightly. Thecome infrom the other side was barely audible, but he eased the door open nonetheless.
“Sorry to bother you I’ll—”
Brayden took in the sterile exam room—the tray of tools beside the bench, the model of the female reproductive system by the window.
And Hope.
22
Hope lay back on the exam bench, her Velaris T-shirt tucked under her chest exposing her smooth, roundpregnantbelly to the chill air of the room.
Brayden staggered back. He couldn’t remember how to breathe. Hope sat upright, eyes searching for his, but he had to look at his feet. Had to make sure that the ground was still solid beneath him because, for all intents and purposes, it felt like he stood atop an undulating hill of quicksand.
“Brayden—”
He held up his hand. He needed a minute. Ten. Maybe the rest of his fucking life to understand what the hell was happening in this room.
Brayden leaned against the wall, mind swirling. For times when he was overwhelmed at school, or the noise of a crowd was too much, or he needed to orient himself in the world to not feel like an insignificant speck, his moms had taught him to be observant. To find details andlatch on. So he did.
The walls were beige. There was a grey rubber chair rail halfway up. There was a poster on the back wall with a fetus in the womb. The floor was the same sad linoleum. A constantdrip, drip, dripemanated from the faucet set into the particle board cabinets painted a cheerful blue. The purse he had gotten Hope for her birthday, the purple designer one she’d been pining after every time they passed it in the shop window, sat on a bulky chair beside him.
And there. In the middle of the room, sat the woman he loved. Her long brown waves pulled away from her face with bobby pins on each side. She had navy leggings on, the band of which cupped the underside of her growing belly.
He finally looked at her face. She was ashen. Probably as pale and shocked as he looked. She obviously wasn’t expectinghimto be the one knocking. Hadn’t even thought to mention the appointment, or you know, his baby.
But she would have?That’s why she wanted to see him. It’s not like she would have been able to keep hiding it. But that was logical. That made too much sense. He wasn’t in any mood to be the good guy right now. He wanted to yell, to scream, to burst out of the room and not look back, not because he didn’t want it, not because he wanted to abandon his unborn baby—
Fuck. Was it even his baby? Is that why she hadn’t told him?
It would make sense. He didn’t remember ever having the conversation about whether or not they were exclusive. That last morning they were together, when they’d said I love you, it felt like she had wanted to share so much more. Maybe it was all she could think to say, knowing another man had fathered her child. That she loved himand it wasn’t enough. It would explain so much about what happened after everything that transpired with Chloe and Effie.
He needed to speak, to say something, to get his burning questions answered, but his voice got lost somewhere. Held hostage by the shock of it all. Brayden had a vague awareness that someone approached from down the hall.
“Brayden . . .” Hope whispered, and it ripped him open. He fully expected to see his guts on the floor, his heart a beating mess in her hand. It killed him to know she had so much power over him, just in the way she said his name. No wonder he filed for his first divorce at twenty-six.
He was a fool in love.
“Ah, so this is the infamous Brayden,” a chipper voice said from behind him. Brayden made space for the woman who entered the exam room donning a white lab coat. She reached out a hand in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Dad.”
Brayden shook hands but his knees wobbled. His throat contracted as he looked to Hope, the question in his eyes.Was he dad?She nodded, ever so subtly. One of the stones on his chest lifted. The doctor, whether a mind reader or just used to new, terrified parents, led him to the stool beside Hope, only releasing his hand when he settled in the seat. “Actually, I have to . . .” He pointed to his cart outside. His voice sounded weird. Like it wasn’t his.God, why was this so hard to digest?
“Stay,” Hope pleaded, taking his hand in hers. He managed a nod but couldn’t meet her gaze. He might just lose it in front of this unsuspecting doctor and that wouldn’t do. Not when she was here to make surehis babywas healthy. No, the fight would come. It hadto. But not now. Not when the sound of his baby’s heartbeat filled his eardrums and his whole life shifted.
Effie dragged herself through the door at Glitter & Glue, locking it behind her.
The store had been a madhouse when she got back from lunch with Theo. Apparently, there was some kind of knitting circle at the Strawberry Banke house—an oversight on Effie and Henrietta’s part to not be more prepared. It seemed more like a horde when thirty chattering ladies came in search of as many sets of size two needles for a doll pattern they all wanted to try. Thankfully, the stock room was neat, organized, and safe since Theo’s inspection, and she was able to get them what they needed without much drama. That did nothing to calm the riotous shuffling through the skeins of yarn to find the right colors, weight, and texture for said pattern. All Effie could do for that wasoohandaahover the ones they got excited about and usher them like lost ducklings to the register when closing approached.
The tension in Effie’s shoulders should have eased when she spotted Theo casually leaned against a lamppost waiting for her, but the sight of him—him—standing therefor herfelt too good to be true. She had the unnerving feeling of being the dorky female lead in need of a glow-up to snag the hot, sophisticated dreamboat that everyone else wanted to claim as their own. Effie didn’t want him to know how her anxiety exploded every time she saw him, so she inhaled sharply and strode toward him in her best imitation of Louisa, who she’d seen turn men into puddles in drive-in parking lots with just a look.
“This is a surprise,” she crooned.
