Page 127 of Pucked Up Plans
A shroud of foreboding envelops my being, casting doubt upon what lies ahead.
CHAPTER 29
TATE
Walsh
I’m sorry
Please don’t be mad
I understand why you’re ignoring me. I’m sorry. This sucks
I never meant to hurt you, Tate Winchester. If this ends now, I need you to know that
I’ve read and reread Walsh’s texts about one hundred times. And those are from the first day. Every day since I left his house in a haste—three long, agonizing days—he sends at least four.
The day after, he sent a gorgeous bouquet of winter flowers. I forced myself to send a text to thank him, then immediately ignored the rest of his messages. But I couldn’t not acknowledge the receipt of them. I’m not inconsiderate.
I wish I were mad at him. I wish he had hurt me purposefully so these damn stupid emotions of loving him would quit. But I can’t. He did nothing wrong. He did what any other college student his age is doing—or probably worse. He had shit luck. Ihave no right to fault him for something he did before we met. Hell, before I even moved to Vermont. It’s not fair of me. But I also can’t bring myself to see him, to reach out, to let him know how I feel. In no way do I want what we have to be over, not by a long shot. However, we both need time to process this on our own, him more so than me. His life could change drastically. The changes to mine will just be a by-product of those in his life.
I can’t let myself picture the result—Walsh with a newborn. The mere image makes me flinch.
Needing something to keep my mind off him, Aubrey and I went through the last few boxes. It was mostly summer clothes, so it took approximately two hours to get the boxes into storage. So much for it killing a lot of time, but all the boxes are finally unpacked.
Another tactic was to cook meals for an entire week. Until I ran out of room in my freezer and had to stop. I found a new cookie recipe, so we made those. Aubrey refused to try them, so I ended up eating at least half the batch and tossing the rest after she went to bed. They weren’t bad, but I’ve consumed a lot of unnecessary calories the past few days and didn’t need any more.
Now it’s day four and the potential to run into him at preschool is real. I avoided him the past two days since Lennon was with Megan, and I purposely dropped Aubrey off late on Monday to avoid a sighting of him. I can’t stall any longer, and it’s not fair to my daughter to pick her up early or allow her to be the last one picked up to evade him.
I arrive about five minutes early and end up in the middle of the line of cars. A familiar truck pulls in behind me. In my rearview mirror, Walsh hangs his head against the steering wheel. My heart pinches at how miserable he appears—his chin covered in unshaven scruff, his hair wild and unruly, no doubt from running his hands through it. His handsome face is palerthan normal, but from this angle, it could be my imagination. Or hope he’s as miserable as me.
His door opens, and my heart pounds wildly in my chest.
Please don’t come talk to me. I don’t have the strength to turn you away.
He ignores my unspoken plea and knocks on my window. I have little choice but to put it down. The cold January wind whips through the cracked window.
“Tate. How are you?”
“Fine.”Lie. I’m notfineby any stretch of the imagination.
“Do you think we could talk?”
“Still having a baby with someone else?” Damn, that was harsh and uncalled for, so I apologize. “Sorry. The question is valid. The tone is not.”
He cups his hands together and blows into them, then rests his elbows on the door. “There’s a few days’ waiting period for the results of the test. I’ll have them by early next week at the latest.”
Credit to him for not taking the bimbo’s word.
“Okay.”
“I miss you.” His voice turns my insides to goo. I tear my eyes away, staring straight ahead to not say something I’ll regret or can’t take back.
I have to stay strong, at least until I know if his life’s about to change.
“How’s Aubrey?”
“Fine.” A little less of a lie. She’s asked no less than a dozen times—each day—when she can have a playdate with Lennon. “She wants to know if you ate her donuts.”
