The World: According to Rachael (37 page)

Then, like a punch in the gut, I wonder if Rachael has the ability to let someone be her partner.

I slump down on a cold, damp park bench, dropping my head in between my knees. The only noises I hear are of the cars whizzing by. There’s something about the white noise that helps calm me down—not enough to get back in the car with her though.

I sense her walking towards me. Lifting my head, I lock eyes with hers as I watch her approach looking a scared child. A breeze picks up, whipping loose strands from her braid across her face. The hair blocks her vision, and I want to tuck those offending strands behind her ear, ensuring that she doesn’t trip. I don’t understand these emotions. How is it possible to love someone enough that you want to take care of them, while at the same time longing to choke some sense into them? I bet that I’m not the first guy who has asked this same question.

She sits down on the bench, but doesn’t touch me. “I know that I did something really awful, but I don’t know what it is.”

Sighing, I stand up and use my arms to brace myself against the end of the table. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I expect an honest answer. No bullshitting me, Rachael.”

“Okay.” She nods, looking at me with earnest eyes.

“Would we have a future together if you weren’t pregnant? And not the kind of future where we have to hide behind closed doors. I mean a future that is out in the open, where I hold your hand in public and I proudly tell everyone who my girl is. ” I hate the question, and I almost wish that I hadn’t asked it. But I have to know. The cat and mouse game that we’ve been playing for the last couple of months is killing me. I have to know definitively if there was ever a chance for us before she got pregnant. Was she just going to string me along until someone took my place? It’s a thought that I have had once or a thousand times since she wrecked my life.

“I don’t know. That’s hard to say, because, well,” she stares down at her stomach, “I am having a baby.”

I don’t look at her when I respond. “That’s the bullshit, political answer that you just gave me. Now, give me the real answer. I want to hear it, even if it’s ugly, because for fuck’s sake, Rachael, don’t I deserve it?” My voice trails off to almost a whisper, but I know that she hears me.

She stands up and steps towards me timidly placing a hand on my bicep. She waits for a second to see what my reaction will be. I don’t jerk out of her touch, but I also don’t respond to it.

I wait.

Hanging on the edge of a cliff.

Needing to hear the words that will alter the course of the rest of my life.

She leans forward on the table, trying to read my face, but I close my eyes in protest. I’m not giving her any clues as to how she should respond. I want to know how her heart answers my question, not her brain. I’ve already heard that sidestepped answer. I hold my breath in anticipation.

Then it comes …

“Yes.”

Dear Reader,

One more thing before I let you go … Rachael refers to her breakup with Aiden a few times in the book.
Aiden’s Broken Heart
is a short story that was published in February 2013 that chronicles the end of their relationship from Aiden’s point of view. It’s available for free on my website at
www.LayneHarper.com
or on Amazon at
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J5F7L80
for $.99. All of the profits from
Aiden’s Broken Heart
are donated to a local animal rescue organization.

Thank you for your support!

Cheers,

Layne Harper

P.S. Please don’t forget to leave a review!