Ever.
Christ, lightning bolts hurt. This one had jabbed me before, causing sizzling little bursts of revelation—usually quickly ignored—but now reality speared me between the eyes.
We weren’t just making a baby. We were making a life.
“I think we need to go out the night before the reunion and get fucking trashed,” JT said on the phone, and I grunted.
Not in agreement. Not in approval. Nope. Wasn’t gonna happen.
“I have a kid, you know. I can’t just spend the night getting lit.”
“So what? I might have a kid out there too, somewhere. You don’t see it slowing me down, man.” JT laughed heartily and I swallowed a sigh.
I’d called JT to rehash old times while I ate half a turkey sandwich at my desk in between meeting with clients. Afterward, I intended to bike ride down to the bank before my slate of appointments later in the afternoon. It was a nice day out. Maybe I’d even stop at the bakery and see if they had any of those half moons Ally liked. If I brought a couple to the diner, maybe she’d soften up enough to talk to me.
It had been several days since she’d left my place in a rush. Surely by now she had to be over the whole wanting space thing. Or whatever it was.
Her weirdness had started right around when she’d found that reunion invitation. But that didn’t make sense. She’d had a good time in high school too. Or so I’d thought.
All I knew was that right now, JT wasn’t funny, and I wasn’t feeling the old times gig as much as I’d expected. Maybe because the best part of my past was also part of my present—and hopefully my future.
“Yeah, well, mine lives with me, and I’m not going out to get wasted. She’s already spent the night with her uncle once this month.”
“So what? Kid needs some freedom.”
“Freedom like I had? My dad never gave a shit if I was home, but I better not do anything to tarnish the precious family name.”
Even as I said the words, I regretted them. My dad could be thoughtless, and he definitely wouldn’t win the father of the year award, but he hadn’t been a bad parent.
At least he’d stuck around, unlike my mother.
Unlike Laurie’s.
Fuck, were we doomed to repeat every pattern in our lives? Just like I’d pulled a page out of my father’s playbook by paying off Marjorie, I’d tried it again with that stupid contract.
I yanked out my top desk drawer where the contract still resided. I was going to set that stupid thing on fire.
Ally and I didn’t need signatures between us. We weren’t about that. We made our own damn rules.
“Look, dude, I’m just saying it’d be fun if we cut loose and partied like we did in the old days. But if you’re not cool with that, then me and Brad will just see you at the reunion.”
“That’s probably a better idea. Maybe we can get a beer afterward,” I added, though I already knew that probably wouldn’t be happening. Ally would be with me, and she’d been clearly uncomfortable when the subject of high scho
ol had come up. I wasn’t entirely sure why, but it didn’t matter.
If she didn’t want to do the whole reunion thing, we’d make our appearances, talk to a few people, and split. I preferred spending the night with her and my little girl anyway.
“Sure, man, whatever you want. I’m just glad to be seeing you and Brad again. I’ve been missing those old days something fierce. Nothing’s been like them, you know? We had the life back then.”
His words were still echoing in my head after I’d hung up. I’d had fun going down memory lane for a few minutes the other day, but perhaps I didn’t need that blast from the past as much as I’d thought.
My present was pretty damn awesome.
I pushed aside the remnants of my turkey sandwich and flipped open the folder. I would tear up the contract. And in case Ally didn’t get how serious I was about her—about us—I’d bring the damn thing back to her in pieces. Maybe then she’d relax a little and let things happen.
If that was even what she wanted.
My gaze scanned the page on top automatically. She’d faxed over the house paperwork separately, so the only thing that should be in this folder was the contract I’d given her. And it was, all signed, sealed and delivered.