Page 76 of Small Town Boy

We haven’t talked about kids. Not outright. Sure, he mentioned once that he had the generic plan of kids “someday,” but that was the beginning and end of it. Nothing deeper. Not a single detail about when or how many or even if having them was a deep burning desire versus “sure, might be nice.” He’s also never asked me if I wanted any.

A question I’m not sure I have the answer to.

“Well, that Bronwyn certainly isn’t either,” Mr. Hovland interjects. “If anything, her mind is on not having them, if you catch my meaning.”

Oh, well, thank very much, sir, for advertising my birth control status. Which, I’m pretty sure is HIPAA protected, but at this point, with the way this conversation is going, that’s the least of my worries.

I’m much more concerned with trying to determine whether this is an ongoing conversation. If the rest of the town is talking about the same thing, a disjointed series of whispers that I was never supposed to be privy to.

Oh, I think I might puke…

“It’s just a real shame he’s taken up with her. We can only hope that he gets this all out of his system before the holidays.”

Ouch.

Tears well up in me, my gut feeling like I was physically punched. That last comment pushed me over the edge, overwhelming me to the point where I can’t move.

They don’t want me with Noel.

Their opinions shouldn’t matter. It’s not any of their business what is going on between him and me. At the same time, I know how much Noel loves this town. How he doesn’t see himself ever leaving. That what he wants most out of life is to take over the family business.

Family.

I sigh, my body sagging, feeling defeated. The word is right there. Family. The realization hits me—hard. Of course, he wants kids. And not just in a generic “sure, might be nice” kind of way.

Why haven’t we talked about this more?

Because maybe he doesn’t want them with me…

My stomach churns all over again. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks letting myself daydream about Noel and me. The future we could have together. Because despite how different our lives have been up to this point, I can see a future with him. I want a future with him.

And this is making me doubt that we could have one.

Squaring my shoulders, I rally that courage again. Because I need my prescription. The one Mr. Hovland was so loose-lipped about. I also need to get the hell out of here and to the girls, a place I know I won’t be judged.

At least, I think I won’t.

“We’ll have to put our heads together to come up with someone with the right values for—oh, Bronwyn, hello!” Mrs. Burch says, catching herself midsentence.

“All.” I nod, not knowing what to say.

“Here for your refill, Miss Ainsworth?” Mr. Hovland asks, giving the two older ladies a knowing look.

“I am. And not to be rude, but I’m in a hurry.”

“Sure thing.” He turns around, shuffling through a small basket behind the counter, pulling out the white paper bag. “Here you go. Insurance covered it all, so you’re all set. See you next month.”

Grabbing the baggie from him, I give a little hand gesture of goodbye, turning on my heel like lightning. I’m not farther than three steps when he calls out again.

“Miss Ainsworth, I’m gonna need you to sign for that.”

Yes, right….

I spin back around, trying not to let how flustered I am show, despite the looks on Mrs. Burch’s and Mrs. Chamberlain’s faces. They don’t need to know the kind of deep, physical reaction their words caused. Their judgment is already loud enough to wake the dead, making all my insecurities come back to life as if they were Lazarus himself.

Scribbling my name on the clipboard—internally cursing that this town hasn’t caught up with modern technology—I nod at everyone again, then book it out of the pharmacy faster than I think I’ve ever moved. I can feel my hurt trying to take over—the sweet, passive-aggressive politeness too much in this moment. Too late though. Lazarus is up and out of the grave, greeting everyone he passes. Still, I can’t let them get to me. Can’t let them win.

I won’t let this be Marie all over again.