Cal pulled himself up to sit across from her, stretching out his legs so she could feel his sun-warmed jeans against her calves. “Did you know she spent a year studying at the Manhattan School of Music?”
“No! Wow. No wonder she was so good.”
He got this funny look on his face then, one that made her insides pitch, made her ache to put her arms around him and lay her head on his shoulder and comfort him, somehow. But comforting was what got them into this predicament to begin with. So instead she nudged his hip with her foot. Which was bad enough.
“I know this isn’t an ideal situation,” she said, talking through, over, around another kind of ache, “but once I make partner, I’ll be making pretty good money. And I can work from home at least a couple days a week, if I need to, so I’ll be there for our baby. And we’ll come back a lot, I promise.”
He sat there, silent, staring straight ahead, then suddenly scrambled out of the truck bed, reaching out to help her down, as well.
“Guess I’d better get you back to Ivy’s,” he said. “Gotta lot of work to do this afternoon.”
He said nothing else until he’d deposited her a few minutes later in front of her mother’s house, and then only to ask when she was leaving.
“Saturday. Cal—”
“Don’t make it worse, okay?” he said, then took off, leaving her standing on the sidewalk feeling like sludge.
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