Lonely? Desperate? Abandoned? Too proud to admit any of it?
“I’ll talk to her,” Chance said. “I’ll get it sorted out.”
Chance remembered that Cordy had walked out empty-handed. He nodded to Liberty. “Give me two old-fashioneds and two chocolate bars.”
Liberty hesitated. “Cordy usually gets a strawberry shortcake donut.”
“Give me two of those then.”
Once Liberty had bagged those up for him, Chance headed out, the flyer in his hand. He waved goodbye to Chels, blew a kiss to her baby, and even tipped his hat to Mr. Ulker and Mr. Slade because his mom had taught him good manners—or at least she’d done the best she could before she passed away.
He went to find Cordy and present himself as the solution to her problems.
two
Cordy staredat the new email on her phone.
This week, your baby is the size of a honeydew melon!
Reed had signed her up for these weekly pregnancy update emails as a joke. It had been his way of connecting with her over this baby—he hadn’t been expecting to be a dad for a long time, if ever. His initial reaction to her announcement had been stunned shock. But Reed had done his best to step up once he’d gotten over the surprise.
Honestly, Cordy hadn’t been ready for a baby either. She’d never considered starting a family, not with her lifestyle. You couldn’t have anything permanent if you moved yearly like she did.
When she’d seen the positive line on the pregnancy test, her first thought had been,I can’t.
But as the blank shock wore off, something bigger and bolder took its place—a sense of expansiveness she only ever felt when she saw something wondrous and new. And this time, that magical thing was growing inside her.
Had Cordy’s mom felt the same when she found out she was pregnant? Cordy had no idea because Melissa Johnson hadnever talked about Cordy’s babyhood. Once a moment was gone, Mom wasn’t the type to bring it up again.
As that awesome feeling unfurled inside Cordy, herI can’thadchanged toI must. I will.
So Cordy did some stepping up, too. But she’d turned down Reed’s suggestion they move in together. He was only doing it thanks to pressure from his parents, and they would never do well in the same house. Living with her lovers just wasn’t Cordy’s thing. She needed her own space.
Reed was relieved when she’d told him no. They’d begun discussing how to raise the baby in separate households and might have figured this co-parenting thing out… if Reed hadn’t died.
These baby update emails felt like Reed reaching out from the afterlife, still trying to connect with the baby he’d helped make. A baby he’d never meet.
Cordy swallowed hard, fighting back the ever-present grief. She closed her email and opened her text messages, staring at the one she’d sent to Reed’s parents a week ago.
The baby is the size of a pineapple! He (or she) likes to kick first thing in the morning. They are already waking me up early!
After Reed’s death, she’d started sending these messages to his parents. It had felt like a natural way to share this pregnancy with them. She’d also sent the ultrasound pictures, telling them that the baby was waving in some.
The Saxons had responded at first, a thank youhere and there. But about four weeks after Reed had died, they’d stopped.
Cordy’s hand tightened around the phone until the edges cut into her palm. It was their grandbaby; surely they would want to know what was happening? But their continuing silence spoke loud and clear—they didn’t care.
So why wasn’t Cordy running out of Star Crossed Springs to someplace new like she usually did?
Probably because Reed had talked so much about the baby being born in the same town he’d been, how wonderful his childhood had been, how excited he was to raise his kid here, too.
Cordy hadn’t understood where he was coming from, not with her childhood. Her parents had never been together—Bodhi Brooks, her dad, hadn’t even been at Cordy’s birth—and hadn’t stayed in any one place for more than a year. Cordy was always moving, whether she was with Mom or Dad. Most of the time, her parents weren’t even on the same continent, and they’d done just fine at co-parenting.
If her parents could do it, then Cordy and Reed could figure it out. Except they’d never had the chance.
Cordy set the phone down on the counter and rubbed at the marks in her palm. She wanted to send the text. She wanted her baby’s grandparents to meet her like a human being, not an incubator. But she was also tired of being hurt like this.
Her gaze fell on the postcard from Estonia stuck to the fridge, sent by her friend Scottie, who was living there. Scottie said it was a fantastic place with tons of jobs.
