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But I couldn’t do that, could I?
No. I needed to man up.
I just prayed that baby in her belly wasn’t mine. If I’d done anything right in the world, dear God, please make that baby someone else’s.
We had an appointment tomorrow at the best lab in L.A. If all went to plan, I’d have the results in ten days or so.
I intended to take the test, then fly back to Peachtree Grove to continue running the general store. Pops still needed the help and, if I were being honest with myself, I wanted—needed—to see Macy again.
Macy.
Clutching the necklace tightly, I whipped my phone out of my pocket and threw back the rest of my drink. Liquid courage that went down real smooth, with the slightest hint of an afterburn.
I squinted down at my phone, pulling up her number, and tapped out a text:
Liam: Did you make it home okay?
Then I stared down at the phone, willing those three dots to appear.
Nothing.
Only my text, staring up at me, taunting me.
She doesn’t love you anymore.
My chest squeezed tight, and I couldn’t breathe. I leaned back in my chair, stared up at the sky. Out here, you could see a few stars at least. Not as many as in Peachtree Grove, but a few.
I wondered if she was outside, looking up at the same stars tonight.
Buzz, buzz.
I glanced down at my phone. I had a text from Macy.
Macy: Hey Liam. It’s Everly. Saw this text on Mace’s phone and wanted to let you know she made it back home safe. She’s sleeping.
Oh, right. Of course. It was almost midnight there.
Liam: Thanks for texting me back. Please tell her I’m sorry. Really sorry.
Macy: Will do.
Macy: And Liam?
Liam: Yeah?
Macy: You’re going to have to work REAL hard to win my sister back. But it can be done.
I sat back, my elbows resting on my knees. How was I going to win Macy back? How could I get her to trust me again, to take a chance with me?
Liam: Any advice?
Macy: Go big or go home.
I laughed out loud; I could hear Everly saying that.
And for the first time, I started to really consider what it would be like to live in Peachtree Grove. Assuming the baby wasn’t mine, maybe Macy shouldn’t move here at all. Maybe I should move there. And we could have the simple, uncomplicated life she talked about. The white picket fence, three kids, a minivan—the whole nine.
It would be cool as hell to live near Ryder and Quinn, Pops and Gigi.
