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We stop at her purple Shelby GT500. Fatima’s a huge fan of muscle cars. Especially the old-school ones from the sixties and seventies. “Cosmetic or construction?”
“Both. The owner lived there for forty years and was a huge fan of the eighties.”
“What did Hunter say about it?”
“He hasn’t seen it yet.” I look away from her questioning stare to the cars driving by. “He doesn't know that I’ve been house hunting.”
“And why is that?” She asks the question like she already knows the answer.
“I’m going to tell him.” Eventually. At this point, I’m not ready to do that. I like the arrangement we have, but I know—always knew—it couldn’t last forever.
“I mean, obviously.” She rakes a hand through her waist length locs.
“Right. Obviously. So why the look?”
“What look?” Fatima tries to smother her smirk with a blank stare. It only makes us laugh. “Seriously, though. Do you really think he’s going to be okay with you moving out?”
No. Probably not. But I need to do this. “This was always the plan.”
“Yeah, I know. But you really think he bought that house for himself?”
What is she getting at? We all know why he bought that house. It hasn’t been a secret.
“He bought it for Liam. He wanted him to have a backyard to play in.”
“He bought that house for you.”
My chest flutters at the thought, but I quickly dismiss the unwelcomed feeling. “No, he didn’t. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Love rarely does,” she says, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “But I think subconsciously, hell, maybe even intentionally, he saw a future with you in that house, and that’s why he bought it.”
I roll my lips together and shift my gaze to the street again. I can feel Fatima’s skeptical gaze on me. “That's not it. He doesn’t— We’re not— I mean, what we have works. But there’s no future between us. Not romantically.”
Fatima laughs to herself. “Okay, girl.”
I don’t try to convince her. She wouldn’t understand. None of them do. “I gotta run.” I give her a hug. “Skylar is watching Liam for me.”
“Have they picked a wedding date yet?”
“Not yet. If it were up to Ian, they’d get married tomorrow. But I think she wants to wait.”
“He sounds like Q. We planned a wedding in thirty days. It was so stressful we almost eloped.”
“Thirty days? I don’t blame you.”
* * *
On my way to pick up Liam, I stop by Starbucks to grab Skylar’s favorite fall drink. Before pregnancy and breastfeeding, I was a regular coffee drinker. I’m talking three cups a day. When it’s my turn at the register, I’m tempted to order two pumpkin spice lattes, instead of one. But I’ve been cutting back my coffee drinking these days, and I already had a twelve-ounce cup of coffee this morning. I do have two weeks' worth of breastmilk stored in the freezer, for pump and dump occasions when necessary. Usually, I keep those on hand for daycare or when Hunter wants to feed him.
“What can I get you?” the barista behind the counter asks.
“One tall nonfat pumpkin spice latte.” Maybe next time.
The barista rings up my order, and I move over to the side. I count at least nine people before me waiting for their drinks. While I wait, I pull out my phone and shoot Skylar a text.
Me
At Starbucks. Be there soon.
