Page 31 of Your Second Chance
As if struck by inspiration, she stood suddenly, heading toward another room.
Mr. Stone leaned in with a knowing smile. “Watch.”
I sniffled, letting out a small, watery laugh despite myself. Moments later, she returned, holding a ball of green yarn.
“I just bought this yesterday,” she said. “It’s kismet. I’ll start on a little blanket today.”
“You don’t have to do that.” I shook my head quickly, overwhelmed by her kindness.
“Oh, sweet, I don’t have to. I want to. Babies deserve soft things, and so do their mums.”
Before I could say anything, I heard Ollie’s voice behind me. “What’re we talking about?”
I turned around quickly, wiping at my face with the back of my hand as Mrs. Stone held up the yarn proudly.
“Yarn,” she said with a bright smile.
“And coffee,” Mr. Stone added, pulling out a chair for Ollie like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Ollie strode over and slipped into the chair next to mine. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, couldn’t meet his eyes after everything. Instead, I focused on the coffee cup in front of me, gripping it tightly.
Mr. Stone started chatting about their plans to visit London soon, filling the silence.
Mrs. Stone chimed in, laughing softly. “I’d much prefer to visit her though.” She nodded in my direction.
I smiled as I glanced up at her.
“I’d prefer to visit her, too,” Ollie added.
His hand shifted, reaching toward my thigh, but it hovered there for a brief moment before he pulled it back.
“We should get going,” I said abruptly, the tension in my chest too much to bear.
Ollie pointed to the neatly packed bags by the corner. “I grabbed yours, but if you need anything else?—”
“I don’t.”
“Okay, Mum. Dad.” He stood, walking over to his parents and hugging them both tightly.
I followed, hugging Mr. Stone first, his embrace warm and sturdy.
Mrs. Stone pulled me into a tighter hug, her arms firm but gentle, and whispered, “Any appointment you need, I’ll be right there. You tell me.”
“Thank you.”
I managed not to cry, though the lump remained lodged in my throat.
As I stepped outside, I finally made eye contact with Ollie. He looked devastatingly beautiful.
But there was something more—something raw. He looked tired. Worried.
I shook my head, trying to push away whatever emotion was clawing at my chest. Without saying a word, I opened the passenger door, climbed in, and closed my eyes, hoping that if I pretended to sleep, we wouldn’t have to talk.
“Nova, we really need to?—”
I held up a hand. “No, we really don’t need to do anything.”
“I’m worried.”
