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“Go get dressed,” I shout.
“Okay, I am,” he replies, abandoning his gift wrapping and walking toward his bedroom.
I can’t stop moving. If I stop, every emotion I’ve shoved inside the thick steel locker in my head will come spilling out. I don’t have the time or energy to sift through all of that right now.
This is good, I tell myself as I amble from room to room, looking everywhere for my phone. He’s leaving soon, probably before the baby is born, so it’ll put some much-needed distance between us and we can finally get over whatever pseudo-relationship thing we’re in right now. We both need to clear our heads. That much is obvious.
When my thorough search of the house is unsuccessful, I head into Luke’s room. His bathroom door is closed and I hear the shower running inside.
Cracking it open a few inches, I call, “Hey, I lost my phone. Can I call it with yours?”
The bathroom is steamy, but I can make out the foggy form of his naked body through the misty reflection. My gaze is stuck for a moment before I tear it away.
“Yeah,” he replies with his hands in his hair as he lathers it up. “It’s on my bed. The passcode is 0415.”
I turn and grab his phone from the bed, punching in the numbers. I pause and think about them for a moment.
“That’s not your birthday, is it?”
“No, it’s my brother’s,” he replies from the shower.
“Caleb’s?” I say, wincing as I hear him laugh.
“Caleb’s birthday is my birthday,” he says, teasing me.
“I know that,” I mutter with an eye roll. “I was joking.” Which is a lie. I had a total slip and I’ll blame my pregnancy brain for that.
He’s still laughing as I realize something.
“It’s not Adam’s. His was a few weeks ago.”
I don’t know if Luke didn’t hear my response or if he’s ignoring me, but he doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Is there another brother no one has told me about? Is Luke keeping secrets from me? Is the whole family? What if this is a tragic story, and I just brought it back up? I’m sure there’s a reason he’s never told me but as he avoids the question, I don’t press him for it.
Instead, I pull up my contact on his phone. For some reason, I hit the message icon first and it pulls up our text thread. I’m just about to hit the phone icon in the corner to call my phone when I notice there is an unsent text message in the bar at the bottom.
Moby Dick?
I stare at it for far too long before I realize what it means. My jaw drops.
When did he type this? Did it mean he wanted to…?
Why didn’t he send it?
My ears are buzzing as I stare at his phone, connecting pieces to this puzzle. Luke typed this out because he wanted to have sex with me, but he changed his mind.
So he doesn’t want to have sex with me?
Did he have second thoughts, or was he too embarrassed to send it? Did he realize that it would only make our relationship more complicated?
What would I have said if he had sent it?
The last text he sent was the day before Thanksgiving, which means this was after that. And that was a week ago.
“Did you find it?” he asks.
I was so enthralled by this unsent text, I didn’t even hear the shower stop. Quickly, I hit the call button from his phone and drop it on the bed, rushing from the room to follow the sound of my own phone ringing.
