Page 100 of Waiting Forever
When I knocked on his bedroom door and he didn’t answer, I went into see if he was still home. I checked the bathroom and then heard mumbling from inside the closet.
It’s better to know the truth. At least I’ve saved him from having to explain it to me. It wouldn’t have been easy for him. I know he loves me in the same way I love him.
I’ll try to be there for him during this challenging time—if the baby is his. But I don’t think I can bewithhim. Not in the way I imagined. If he’s having a baby with Harper, it will be too hard for me to be happy for him. I’ll be jealous and spiteful and wish their baby were ours.
It wouldn’t be fair to anyone, least of all that child. Mom has been hinting for me to move to London whenever we talk, which isn’t as often as I’d like. All these lies about my relationship with Nathan keep me from opening up to her and sometimes calling at all.
Maybe this baby is another sign Nathan and I don’t belong together. No matter how badly you want something or someone, the universe doesn’t always agree.
I’ve never been a fan of tragic movies or story endings. I favor happily ever afters, which I realize now are true only in fiction. Real life is tragic. There isn’t magic or fairies or good triumphing over evil. Villains win. They thrive and the rest of us move on with the hope of finding love again. However imaginary that hope might be, we need to believe it’s possible or else we’d wallow and go nowhere.
I will not wallow.
38
Kensington
I dig through my drawers in search of a Halloween costume. I know I packed one and think I spotted it yesterday while organizing my clothes in my new room.
Ah-ha. I find last year’s Harley Quinn costume under a pile of pajamas. My hair had been its natural ashy brown when I wore it last October. It will look much better with my red locks. The clothing is skimpier than I remember, but I can work around that. I won’t tie the T-shirt at my waist, and I’ll trade the ripped-up fishnet stockings for plain black.
I place the costume on my bed and search the small walk-in closet for my wedge lace-up sneakers, hoping I packed them.
“Kensi?” Nathan calls from my bedroom.
I stiffen and try to calm my suddenly drumming heart before walking out to greet him. “Yes?”
His eyes are puffy and red like he’s been crying. I want to soothe him, but if I do, who knows where that will lead?
He touches the skimpy black Harley Quinn shorts. “Is this for me?”
“You’d look good in them,” I tease and then fake a frown. “But sorry, you’ll have to buy your own pair. Those are for me.”
He laughs, but it’s halfhearted.
I hate that he’s suffering. “Listen.” I stop at the end of the bed, keeping distance between us. “I know everything, and you don’t have to worry, I’m not mad. I’m just”—a sad laugh breaks free and the sting of tears fill my eyes—“I need time.”Maybe permanent time.
He rubs his muscular arms, confusion etched on his face. “Did my mom tell you?”
“She did but not intentionally. It was my fault. I asked her some questions and the answer sorta spilled from her out of shock. She didn’tmeanto tell on you.”
He lowers himself onto the bed like he doesn’t trust his legs to support him.
I snatch my outfit out of the way a second before his butt meets the mattress. “Do you need something? Water? A beer?”
“I can’t believe she told you. I wanted to be the one.”
“It’s okay. She saved you the burden.” I rest a knee on the bed, hating the uncertainty between us. Was it just last week that we made love? Could you call what we did making love? It was love, for sure, just a kinkier version that works for us.
I’m going to miss that, having him as close as two people can get. To me, Nathan will always be the perfect fitting pair of jeans. The favorite movie I can watch over and over and never get bored. The incredible vacation destination I want to revisit every chance I get. The dessert that dreams are made of and the taste I’ll never forget. The memory I’ll go to sleep to, reliving each night when I’m curled up in my bed. My greatest love but never my regret.
Even if I knew in advance things would end this way, I’d do it all over again.
He bows his head, his big shoulders slumped forward. “Kensi, I’m so sorry. I swore I wouldn’t screw this up and here we are. You don’t even want to come near me. I don’t blame you.”
That’s it. I round the bed and sit down beside him, putting my hand over his on his thigh. “You didn’t screw up.”
He lifts his head. “I did, and you deserve better.” He lets out a sad laugh. “At least I got to fuck up Prescott before I possibly become a dad. I think I get why our parents worry so much about us—or I will. Maybe.”
