What Lovers Do

“How so?”

“When I see Millie, I feel relieved. I think about what it could have been like had she gotten pregnant when we were ‘trying.’ A baby she didn’t really want. Her desperately wanting to have her own career … I would have done whatever it took to make things work. But I don’t think it would have been enough. I think we would have turned into Howie and Caroline. And that sucks. But when I see you, I have hope. You’ve made me a believer in patience. I don’t know what’s in my future, but in the present, what serves me best, what makes me feel like I have purpose is taking care of the people who are in my life now. My family and my friends.”

“Shep?”

“Yeah?”

“Not to change the subject, but I’ve wanted to ask you something. The answer doesn’t matter. It really doesn’t. I’m just curious.”

“Ask away.”

“Are you rich?”

I chuckle. “Is that a deep, philosophical question? Or are you inquiring about my bank account and investments?”

“The latter.”

“Why?”

She stares at her feet as we cross the street. “Because I’ve been trying to really figure you out since the day we met, and it feels like one of the final pieces to the puzzle.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you solving me.”

She giggles. “I’m not sure that’s possible, but I think I’ve earned full disclosure since I’ve told you my deepest, darkest secrets.”

On the other side of the street, I stop, letting the dogs gather around a street signpost, sniffing until their hearts are content. Facing Sophie, I step as close to her as her belly will allow. “Are you sure you’ve shared all your secrets?”

She smirks. “Just about.”

“So you’re keeping a few?”

“How rich are you, Shep? How ridiculous was it of me to worry about you paying for things? All the times I worried about you losing your job because of the way you talked to Marta? All of the sleepless nights I spent fretting over my attraction to yet another guy who might be on the road to being broke and homeless?”

“Enough. I have enough.”

“That’s a terrible answer.”

I sigh. “I loaned money to a lot of people before Millie asked for a divorce. Family and close friends borrowed money to buy homes, cars, pet stores, things like that. Maybe I get paid back; maybe I don’t.”

“You gave money away so Millie couldn’t take half of everything?”

I shrug. “Your words, not mine.”

Sophie narrows her eyes. “Did you loan your dad money for the car you drive?”

I nod.

“The Mustang?”

I nod.

“Your house?”

I nod.

Her lips twist. “The house in Sedona.”

I nod.

“Shep, what job did you have before you quit to work on your marriage?”

“Developed video games.”

Her brows lift a fraction. “Are you joking?”

I shake my head. “This dyslexic kid wasn’t the fastest reader, but I had other self-acquired skills.”

“I’ve never seen you play a game in all the months I’ve known you.”

“I don’t do it anymore.”

“And you made a lot of money doing it?”

“I did.”

With several slow nods, she gives me a little “huh” and pulls my hand to keep walking.

When we return to her house, I toss the bags of poop in her garbage and meet her inside with the dogs.

As I hang up Cersei’s leash and she toes off her sneakers, I wait for her to quiz me further on my net worth. She doesn’t.

“Want to watch a movie? Or is it too late?” I ask.

“Both. It’s too late, and I want to watch a movie.”

I grin and head toward the sofa as the pack gather around the water bowl.

“In bed. I need like ten pillows to get comfortable enough to watch a movie.” She rests one hand on her lower back and makes her cute little waddle toward her bedroom.

The pack and I follow.

“No.” She gives Cersei a stern headshake when she goes to jump onto the bed. Cersei sulks off to find a spot on the floor with the other dogs.

“What are we watching?” she asks, collapsing onto the bed, grabbing pillows for her back, under her head, between her knees, another between her ankles, and another to hug.

I watch her, a little mesmerized.

“Sometimes I pretend this baby inside of me is … ours.”

“Your choice,” I say, grabbing the remote and handing it to her while I lie next to her.

She turns on The World’s Most Extraordinary Homes.

“This isn’t a movie.”

“I know,” she says. “But Piers Taylor has the most soothing voice when he goes full-on architect nerd.”

“Nerds do it for you?”

“Mm-hmm …” She closes her eyes.

I slip off her glasses and set them on the nightstand. “If you’re going to sleep, maybe I should go home.”

“No,” she mumbles in a sleepy voice. “Stay.”

“I’ll stay for one episode.” I slide my arms around her, spooning her and her pillows to me, burying my nose in her hair. My fingers trace the skin where she has those faint purple stretch marks.