Page 130 of Pucked Up Plans
Put there by flowers, enhancing the magic in my life since I was a little girl.
CHAPTER 30
WALSH
Any time spent waiting, no matter what it’s for, is torture. Lennon was three days late. I thought my life was going to end in those three days because Megan was miserable. However, I’d relive those days and then some compared to what’s going on now. Because it’s pure torture. With a capital T-O-R-T-U-R-E.
Once Raquel got ahold of my number, she hasn’t let up on the texts. I had to put her on Do Not Disturb and text her every few days. It’s selfish and mean, but until I know for sure the baby’s mine, I don’t owe her anything. That’s how I’m choosing to justify it.
But her texts aren’t the worst part about any of this. No, that would be missing Tate. And Aubrey too, but mostly Tate. She never responds to my texts, but I can’t blame her. I get why she won’t talk to me. It makesrationalsense, but my heart hates it. When I see her at preschool, she’s so close, yet so far away. Some days, she barely glances at me. I hate how sad she is, so forlorn, but mostly I hate putting her in this position.
I can’t focus in class, which sucks because the semester just started. On the ice, I’m distracted but haven’t been too sloppy. Heck, I even scored a goal and had an assist in thisweekend’s home game. It helped Lennon was there cheering me on in the stands. She’s been the only bright spot in all of this. Despite my crappy mood, Megan hasn’t asked what’s up or given me too much shit. It’s like she can tell I’m not prepared for an interrogation or her nonsense. No matter the reason, I’m grateful for it.
The results of the paternity test should be back today. At least that’s what the lab promised when we sent the results out. I’ve been checking my email nonstop, hitting refresh like nobody’s business. I only have one class on Monday mornings and practice in the evening.
Right after class, Jenny blows up my phone.
Your girl’s here.
In your store? Tate?
My pulse quickens at the thought of her being in the floral shop. Then I remember I can’t be too excited about it yet.
Yep. Unless there’s another Tate here in Havenwood
If there is, I’m unaware
Take notes of what she wants
Already on it
I smile because of course she is.
She doesn’t text back, so I pack up my stuff from the Student Center, wave to a couple of teammates, and make my way to the parking lot. Running late this morning, I had to park across campus, so now I have to hoof it to my car. I lost track of time—thoughts of Tate Winchester will do that—and I hope I’m nottoo late for pickup. Luckily, Lennon’s school isn’t far from mine, a fact that makes her almost giddy, though she’s never given a reason why it’s so funny to her.
My phone pings with a text on my drive, the thin layer of snow coating the ground causing me to drive at a slower speed. Every time it snows, I’m grateful for putting those snow tires on Tate’s car, knowing she and Aubrey are safer. If she’d let me, I’d just grab Aubrey every day for her, but her independence is important to her, and I don’t want to make her feel incapable. My reasons have nothing to do with capability, which I think she understands on some level. At least I hope.
Pulling behind a Tahoe in line, I shift into park, letting the engine idle. The doors will open soon enough, but given the short drive, the car has had little chance to warm up. Lennon’s used to the cold of Vermont on top of the ice rink and hardly ever complains. If we let her, the girl wouldn’t ever wear a jacket—she discards it as soon as she enters somewhere: car, home, a store, school. It’s been a battle at school because they make her zip it all the way up whenever she has it on. I’ve tried explaining why she needs to follow their directions—using it as a “rule” rather than keeping it zipped for warmth—but my arguments fall on deaf ears.
I check my phone.
Dahlias are her favorite. But save that for another time because I’m already working on something. Just let me know when you want to grab it. Today or tomorrow
I sigh.
Today. Please let it be today.
And let it be an “it’s not my baby” bouquet rather than an “I’m not sure how to navigate this” arrangement.
I’ll let you know as soon as I get the results. Will it apply to either scenario?
Jenny knows the whole sordid tale. I poured my heart out to her last week when I picked out the bouquet Lennon made me buy. Thankfully, I was wise enough to leave her home with Mom.
She’ll love it either way. Fingers crossed for you it’s a joyous occasion
Cross your toes too. I need all the luck I can get
*prayer hands emoji*
