Page 56 of Best Friend Burden

“Okay,” Chelsea said, one eyebrow raised, “but if anything changes and you need somewhere to crash, you just give me a call, okay? We couldn't have anything happen to that cashew queso of yours.”

She winked and lightly punched my arm.

“Of course,” I said and smiled back at her.

When she left, I was shocked at how quiet it was. I almost longed for the noisy old AC unit in one of my old apartments back in Austin. The one that would occasionally drip and the landlord refused to repair. It was obnoxiously loud, but at least it never felt as alone as this.

I went over to the bed, newly built and sturdy, and put the sheets on it. It looked so quaint in the middle of the room; when I laid on top of it, it was enormous. I could look to my left or my right, spread out like I was doing snow angels, and there would still be plenty of room.

It was awful.

I should call Kiefer, I thought.Give us a second chance.

But then I remembered the screaming and the short temper. And the lack of freedom. And our respective issues that didn’t play well with each other.

Maybe if it was just me, I could see giving him another chance. People deserved second chances, and the way he looked at me when I came back in the next morning, with the puppy dog eyes? I wanted to forgive him. I truly did want to believe that he was the person I needed him to be.

I just couldn't risk it with a baby on the way.

In this world, the only person you could truly count on was yourself. As long as it was just me, the baby would have a good parent, and I would raise her the right way, with love, compassion, and patience.

There was no guarantee that Kiefer would be able to offer the same thing.

CHAPTER24

***KIEFER***

Every night without Melody became harder and harder for me. The first night, I could tell myself it was just that she needed a little time. By the second night, I knew she was serious and making a point. By the time a full week had rolled around, it was hard to believe she'd be coming back.

I know Jackson had told me there are plenty of fish in the sea and all that, but I didn't want just any fish. I'd gotten stuck on her. It wasn't just that I wanted her back in my life. I also wanted to know if she was okay. And I wanted her smiling face to be there when I got home from a tough day at work. At this point, I would have even been okay if she had a bunch of friends over. So long as she was there.

It made me feel ridiculous. Why had I exploded at her like that? Why couldn't I just have just let her have her day in the sun and then talked to her about it the next day? She hadn't meant to upset me or do something wrong — things just got a little out of hand, and she didn't realize what was at stake.

After a weeks of misery, lying in bed and struggling to find enough energy to get up and feed myself, I looked forward to the obligation of having to go to work on Monday. I'd just go in, do my job, no more and no less, and then go home, feeling accomplished.

When I showed up, Natasha was waiting for me.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Do you have a minute?”

Time was not the issue. What I lacked was motivation.

“For what?”

If this was going to be about her asking about Jackson, I just didn't want to hear it. I was as happy for the two of them as I could be, but if there was even a hint of drama, I didn't want to be the go-between for the two of them. It was on them to work things out, and I would stay out of it.

“It'll just take five minutes,” she said. “Well, four minutes fifteen seconds, to be exact.”

She blushed and looked down at her shoes. I didn't know what this was, but it didn't seem to be about Jackson. This was something else.

“Sure,” I said, and she led me to a small sound booth.

“Now I want your honest opinion,” she said, plugging her phone into the mixing board. “This is just a rough mix, and nothing's final.”

She was going to play me a song.

“It's sort of an outline of a sketch that came to me over the weekend, and I got it down as quickly as I could in GarageBand. Think of it as more of an idea than a fully realized—”

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