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I blame it on the hormones and the baby as the crying picks back up when I exit the car and head into the dark house. I should have told my mom I wanted her to stay home, but that sounds ridiculous. I’m an adult and I need to do this on my own.
I push the key into the lock, entering the blackness, I switch on the lights, letting the kitchen glow, and realizing I haven’t eaten. I’m teetering on the edge of puking if I don’t get something in my stomach soon.
Opening the fridge, I push a few things around, trying to find something, but nothing jumps out at me. Just as I’m about to give up and order something, the doorbell rings.
Checking the camera, I see Harper standing on the porch. She’s looking around, her arms full of bags, and I smile when I see her.
She’s really the only person who knows that I haven’t been dealing with Nick leaving very well, and here she is, standing on the porch, here to help me get through this.
I scramble over to the door, so excited to see her, and as soon as I open the door, I throw my arms around her.
“What are you doing here?” I mumble, my head resting on her shoulder as she shifts the bags around to give me a one-armed hug.
“I thought we could do a moms sleepover,” she says, never letting go of me as I still continue to hug her. “I figured you might need some company.”
When I finally let go of her, I can feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes again, and I’m already sick of crying. I can’t do this the entire time Nick is gone. I’ll look like a crazy person.
“Where’s Sammie?” I ask now, taking a few of the bags from her and heading toward the kitchen. Harper follows me, closing the door behind her.
“She’s at home with Max. I told her I was spending the night with you and of course she asked if she could come.”
We both laugh, as Harper shakes her head. Sammie loves to spend time with us, and I will admit, I love spending time with her too. She’s one of the coolest four-year-olds I know. Plus, she’s a great hype woman, always talking about how pretty Zoey and I are and dishing out compliments left and right.
“I might also need a night away from her,” Harper says. “Don’t take that the wrong way, but she’s a lot sometimes.”
“Never. I’ll be there soon enough too,” I reply, resting a hand on my stomach. “How have you been feeling?” I point at Harper’s growing belly. We’re only due about a month apart and I can’t think of anyone I would rather share this time with than her.
“Totally fine now that the exhaustion has moved on,” she tells me as she unpacks the bags. “I thought we could make some pizza and then have some ice cream.”
“Sounds perfect. I need to eat soon because as soon as my stomach gets empty, the nausea returns,” I say, again opening the fridge and looking for something quick to eat.
“Good news,” Harper now says, pulling out a bowl of fresh fruit and some cheese and crackers. “Want to start a movie while the pizzas cook?”
“As long as it’s not something romantic,” I tell her, and she laughs. “Okay, maybe a rom com is okay, but nothing about soulmates or second chances or shit like that.”
“Hits a little too close to home, huh?” she asks, putting some pizza sauce on the crusts. “You want pepperoni or any veggies?” Harper is holding up a small bag of pepperoni and has a few small bowls of already diced onion, peppers, and mushrooms.
“Whatever you want,” I reply.
“Well, I can’t do pepperoni because it will only make my heartburn worse. It’s already awful and the red sauce will push it over the edge,” Harper tells me as she continues to heap sauce onto the crust.
“We don’t have to have pizza,” I say, slightly shocked by her suggestion to have it if it’s giving her heartburn.
“Oh no, we’re having pizza. Heartburn is the price I pay for eating…eating anything. Check in with me in a month and let me know how your heartburn is playing out.”
“For real?”
“Yep, it’s miserable while pregnant and it doesn’t matter what you eat or what you do, it’s just there,” Harper says, wrinkling up her nose, her lips curling up in a disgusted way. “If I eat a massive bowl of vanilla ice cream before bed, I can get about six hours of sleep before it returns.”
“Okay, so there is something that helps,” I say, shrugging while I grab a few crackers. “Wish it wasn’t something that is going to make my butt bigger than it already is, but I’m cool with it.”
“Literally and figuratively,” Harper says, making us both laugh. She pauses, adding cheese to the pizzas and topping one with a handful of veggies. “How are you doing?” she now asks, stopping to lean back against the counter, watching me.
I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it. I feel like I’m being dramatic. Six months ago, Nick was off living his life and I was living mine. He’d creep into my thoughts, but I never believed we’d get back together. Now here I am, sad and missing him and he’s only been gone for an hour. A damn hour. It’s ridiculous.
“It’s fine…” I start, but I shake my head. “It’s so shitty. I know we’ve only been back together for a short time, and we didn’t break up, but I don’t know.” It all comes out in a jumbled mess and Harper smiles at me.
“You haven’t been together for a short time. Just because you broke up before, it’s not like either of you actually moved on,” Harper says. “You and Nick have something that most people never find. You’re connected, like…”
