* * *
Harper sat on the sofa in Nick’s living room, watching the sun peep over the horizon and gradually reveal its full self. Despite the gorgeous view, her mind was still numb, and even her body felt only half there.
She’d spent the night in this one spot, unable to face the bed she’d shared with Nick now that she was alone, and equally unable to face leaving his home and severing that link to him. She’d checked her cell regularly in case he was trying to contact her, then while she had the cell in her hand, she’d searched the web for the effects of stress on unborn babies. It was another thing to worry about, but at least she was past the first three months, when the effects were worst. She rubbed her belly and tried some of the breathing exercises Nick had told her he used after his nightmares.
Frank had stayed with her and was now lying at the door, his head on his paws, staring forlornly, waiting for Nick to come home.
In the short time since they’d adopted Frank, he’d become devoted to Nick. It shouldn’t have been surprising—while Harper had been at work, Nick and Frank had spent their days together. But it was more than that. They’d been helping each other heal.
“Frank,” she said, but her voice was hoarse from crying and the word was practically unrecognizable, so she tried again. “Frank.”
This time he dragged his furry head up to look at her.
“Come over here, boy.” She patted the sofa cushion beside her.
For long moments, his dark eyes simply contemplated her, then he stood, shook his body, ambled over and climbed up on the sofa. Harper lifted her arm so he could rest his head in her lap.
“I know,” she said softly. “I miss him, too. But we’ll be okay together.” She laid a hand over the small mound of her stomach and rubbed Frank’s ear with the other. “You, me and the babies. We’ll be fine,” she said, unsure if that was a lie or not.
Frank snuffled then let out a sigh. She sat with him, sharing comfort, until her tummy rumbled. She didn’t feel like eating, but she needed to have something nutritious for her babies. With a final stroke of Frank’s soft ear, she pushed to her feet and headed for the kitchen.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d made and drunk a smoothie and Frank had eaten a bowl of kibble.
She’d need to get ready for work soon, but she couldn’t find the energy. A sleepless night and a bleak heart combined to steal all of her motivation, so she slumped onto the sofa again.
Frank glanced her way, then turned and trotted off down the hall, only to reappear a minute later, one of Nick’s T-shirts in his mouth.
The sight brought tears to her eyes again. “Oh, Frank, come over here.”
He and dropped the shirt at her feet. She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting her tears spill onto his fur. “I want him back, too.”
The thing about being the one left behind was that as well as the grief about the ending, there was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. That feeling had lurked inside her after her father had walked out on her and her mother, and it left her feeling paralyzed now.
Frank pulled his head from her grip and curled up on Nick’s shirt at her feet. Her heart broke for him—his helplessness in the situation was as bad as hers.
She stilled. As bad as hers?
Something about that didn’t seem right. Frank was powerless in the situation. She wasn’t.
Yes, she’d been powerless as a child when her father abandoned her, but she’d worked hard over the years to become a confident person who was in charge of her own life. She drew in a long, shaky breath. She was still in charge of her own life.
Nick had ended their marriage because he’d made a decision about what was best. He was wrong. And she wasn’t helpless, having to sit here and accept his view of how things should be.
She wasn’t powerless.
It was time to take matters into her own hands and shape her own destiny.
* * *
After a quick shower, Harper was ready for action. She called Nick’s cell, but it went to voice mail. The next few minutes of waiting to redial were spent trying to ignore the butterflies in her belly, but she got the recorded message again when she tried.
> Not to be deterred now that she was taking charge of her own destiny, she called Natalie Valentine. Her friend picked up on the second ring.
“Cimarron Rose B&B, how can I help?”
“Natalie, it’s Harper.” She tried to sound casual despite her erratic pulse. “Is Nick there?”
“Hi, Harper,” Natalie said. “Actually, no. He was here last night, but he left early.”