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With his finger pressing the fold, his head snaps up. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a shrug. “I think it will be more fun to find out when the baby is born.”
His shoulders sag as disappointment washes over his features. It almost looks like he’s bummed we’re not finding out tomorrow. “Well, it’s your choice.”
“It’s not like I was ever going to cover the baby in pink or blue either way,” I reply.
“Good point,” he says, going back to his wrapping.
I watch him for a moment when that familiar tension rises in my gut. Ever since Thanksgiving last week, I’ve struggled to keep Luke at a distance. I never expected my heart to get so attached, but it has.
“Sage is throwing you a baby shower?” he asks.
“Yeah. Apparently, Briar and our mothers are in on it too,” I add.
The room grows quiet again. Neither of us wants to discuss how his family throwing me a baby shower feels wrong—and somehow right.
Why did I say it like that?
I pick up my wrapped presents and take them into the living room. Luke didn’t want to decorate for Christmas, but I smuggled in a small Christmas tree and placed it in the corner by his record player and one of his bookshelves. He didn’t put up much of a fight when he discovered it. He just sort of rolled his eyes and ignored it.
“I assume tomorrow I’ll come home to find stockings on the mantel,” he muttered under his breath.
“Don’t give me any ideas.” I laughed.
I didn’t, in fact, hang up any stockings. I considered it, but I realized that seeing his and mine together would make it look too much like we’re a couple.
Just one more thing to drive the knife in a little deeper.
Returning to the kitchen island to get the rest of my wrapped presents, I notice Luke staring at his phone. His eyes are wide and he’s as still as a statue.
“What’s up?” I ask softly.
But I already know. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for and dreading. I cruelly wished that maybe he wouldn’t get into the program in England. As wrong as that is for me to want his career to suffer so that I could have a few more moments with him, I wished for it with all of my heart.
And as I stare at his face now as he reads through something on his phone, I wonder what he’s thinking. If he’s going to erupt in elation at any moment, I don’t want to be around to see it.
“You got in, didn’t you?” I whisper.
His eyes lift to my face and he swallows, clearly uncomfortable and hesitant.
Then, slowly, he nods.
“Congratulations,” I say, trying to force my voice to lie with enthusiasm, but I don’t pull it off. “You can be happy, Luke. That’s amazing. You wanted it so bad.”
“I think I’m in shock,” he says, his expression unreadable.
“We should celebrate!” I cheer.
“We don’t have to do that.”
“I’m seriously so happy for you,” I say, plastering a wide grin on my face. Surely, a smile can hide everything, right? No one can see through a smile.
Finally, his expression comes to life, a slow, creeping grin appearing on his face. He bites his bottom lip to control it as he continues to read the email.
“Let’s go out to eat!” I shout, clapping my hands together. “You can celebrate your new boring book thing, and I can celebrate soon having this place to myself.”
His smile falters, but I’m moving too fast to let the feelings in. I hurry the rest of my presents to the living room and start searching for my phone.
