Page 68 of Henhouse
“And why not?” She ignored the sorrow that drenched his words. Sorrow that she couldn’t see it his way, that she thought so little of herself.
“You just can’t know it already!” Effie stood now, clutching a pillow to her chest.
“I do!”
“You don’t! It’s not how this works. You can’t justknowthings!”
“The sky is blue, Effie. Let it be a fact!”
“That still doesn’t make any sense!” Effie yelled, her nerves shaking her bones. She moved for the door on silent feet.
“Effie, please don’t go.”
“I shouldn’t be worried at every turn that you’re going to realize I’m not what you want.” With that she grabbed her clothes and crept out the door, not bothering to mention that that fear was wholly her own. She didn’t give credence to the thought that she ruined this before it started, that she was running back home, fulfilling the predictions of her lovelorn family, and hiding from what might be because she was too afraid it wouldn’t last.
33
The sidewalk sizzled with the late July heat, despite the evening hour, drawing tourists and locals alike to the outdoor tables at all of Hope’s favorite eateries. As she walked, she passed more than one pudgy hand coated in dribbles of ice cream that melted down too-full cones. Thankfully, the fabric of the sundress she wore was light enough that she remained dewy instead of cascading with sweat. Like Effie, she enjoyed walking when she could, and Brayden’s house was near enough that she could manage it, even on a hot day.
The fence had been righted and the beds lining the foundation and walkway were filled with loam dark as coffee grounds. A deep navy, reminiscent of a moonlit midnight sky coated the front door and shutters. The bronzed, scaled face of a dragon held the door knocker between its teeth and looked down at Hope with a mystical curiosity. She had found it at a salvage shop months ago. Hope’s mouth kicked up in the corners.
The door knocker, the unplanted gardens, they were all for her.
Brayden promised she could pick and plant the flowers herself when the time came, it seemed he made good on that and many other things. It felt odd to be happy when so much between them was tumultuous at best, but she chose to view it as an olive branch.
Hope lingered on the granite slabs that made up the front steps. She didn’t come to pick a fight or demand to know what he thought after her reading, but she wasn’t willing to wait for him to come out of hiding when they had so much to get ready before the baby came. Plus, Effie had made them each a gift for their respective nurseries giving her the perfect excuse to make a house call. Or so Effie had insisted.
Hope lifted her hand to try out the knocker, and a nauseating lurch in her stomach reminded her of the last time she tried to call on Brayden at this house. When Chloe had upended her sense of security and all but jumpstarted the end of her relationship with the only man who had ever made her want to leave the safety of her family home. Hope steadied herself with a deep breath.It was all in the past.
She knocked.
What felt like a small eternity later, the door eased open.
Brayden.
Hope wasn’t sure it would ever stop making her muscles go slack to look upon that scruffy dark beard and those warm chocolate eyes. His lean frame, tight in all the right places, was on phenomenal display beneath a lightweight cream T-shirt. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his plum-colored shorts like he wasn’t certain what to do with them.
When Hope fully met his gaze she expected to find all the warmth and longing she felt reflected back to her. But his face hardened, mouth drawn into a line. “What are you doing here?”
Hope wanted to keel over into the last remaining rose bush, but Bug deserved two living parents so she lifted the bag in her hand. “A gift from Effie. Plus, I want to see where our baby is spending half its life if that’s okay with you.”
Hope schooled her face into ease and contentment. She wasn’t here to do anything or be anything he didn’t want. Clearly, her reading fell on deaf ears and had solidified the walls between them even more. She could play happy co-parent until it became the truth.
“Of course. Sorry. You surprised me is all.”
“Were you expecting someone else?” Hope looked over her shoulder like a non-pregnant, non-swollen, non-gassy trollop might be on her way to ravage her baby’s father. The expression wasn’t entirely wiped from her face when she turned back to him.
Brayden sighed. “No, Hope. I wasn’t.” He stepped aside, gesturing for her to come in.
The house looked fantastic, pristine, and far too empty.
“You need furniture,” Hope offered.
“Noted.”
“I could help,” Hope said, trying not to sound too excited. “If you want.”
“Also noted. Can I get you something to drink?”
