The Pickup (Imperfect Love 1)

Celeste nods once. “Of course.” The hurt that comes through in her voice is evident, and I hate that I’m the reason she’s hurting, but I don’t know how to fix any of this.

“Don’t be like that.” I attempt to grab her hand as she turns to walk away, but she yanks her hand out of my reach. “I’ll see you when you get back,” I say to her as she walks down the hall toward our room.

She ignores me, and knowing how stubborn she is, I don’t attempt to apologize. Instead, I say goodbye to my mom and then head out.

Nine

Olivia

“Do you think the couch would look better against this wall?” Giselle points to the wall across from the fireplace. “Or maybe this wall?” She points to the wall adjacent to the one she just pointed to. We’ve been settled into our brownstone in Brooklyn Heights for close to a month, but I’m beginning to think Giselle will never be settled with our décor. We put up a small Christmas tree in the corner, and now that it’s gone, Giselle’s back to rearranging our furniture. The woman didn’t even wait until New Year’s Day to take the tree down.

When I found this brownstone online, she insisted we keep all the furnishings in our flat in Paris there. She claimed it was because she didn’t want us to spend the money shipping it all to New York, but we both knew she just needed an excuse to decorate while she’s job hunting. With a bachelor’s and master’s degree in Interior Design, my best friend better know everything there is to know about decorating a place. Who even knew you could go to school for six years to learn how to decorate a room?

“I think it should stay right where it is.” And yes, my answer has everything to do with the fact that I’m currently sitting on the couch in question. Giselle pops her hip out and glares, knowing me way too well. I laugh, setting Reed down in his bassinet.

Her phone beeps indicating an incoming text. When she looks at it, her face lights up.

“Christian?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She grins, typing something back. “I just can’t believe we’re back together again.”

“Why? Because he’s a famous musician now?”

“No…well, yeah, I guess that’s a little bit of it.” She giggles, throwing herself onto the couch next to me. “I’m just so happy. You would think after not seeing each other for six years, it would be awkward. But it’s not. It’s like we picked right back up where we left off all those years ago. It just feels so surreal, like any moment I’ll wake up and it will all have been a dream. When I left to Paris, I honestly never thought we would be together again, and I had accepted that, you know? Christian needed to follow his dreams, and I needed to chase mine.”

“But you guys found your way back to each other. You deserve to be happy.” Giselle doesn’t talk often of her home life, but from the little bit she’s mentioned over the years, she didn’t have it easy growing up.

“I know, but sometimes I feel guilty.”

“You can’t feel guilty for living your life. Your mom has your dad, and it’s his job as her husband to help her. You visit all the time, and you’re there for your sister. You can’t do it all.”

“I know. I know you’re right, but it doesn’t stop me from still feeling that way.”

“Well stop feeling that way!” I pull Giselle into a hug. “You know if you ever need anything I’m here, right?”

“You do enough, but yes, I know. Thank you.”

“I’m going to take a quick shower before we head out to brunch. Can you keep an eye on little man?”

“Of course.”

Yesterday was Christmas, but because my dad was away for a game, we’re all getting together today to celebrate. As I stand, the buzzer goes off indicating someone is downstairs, so I press the button. “Hello?”

“I have a certified letter for Olivia Harper to sign.”

“Okay.” I buzz him in.

“Paternity results?” Giselle questions.

“I’m sure.” I roll my eyes as I walk to the door to wait for him so he doesn’t knock and wake up Reed. We’re on the third floor, so the courier will have to take the elevator up. When I see him walking down the hall, I notice he’s not alone. Cole—shit, I mean Nick—is with him, and holy hell does he look hot. He’s standing to the side of the courier in a baby blue collared Lacoste shirt that fits his arms and chest way too well, distressed jeans, and a pair of Nikes. The guy definitely knows how to do casual—No! No! I will not go there. He’s a dumbass who doesn’t even want his own baby and that makes him ugly as fuck, NOT hot.