What's Left of Us
Page 26

“Any time.”
“Now, what’s up with you?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you: with the end of the school year coming, I’ve taken on some volunteering at Ethan’s school, for their summer programs.”
“Cool!”
“Yeah, Ethan’s really excited that I’ll get to spend more time with him, but that means my volunteering at Mayo will have to fluctuate.”
“Oh …”
“I know. I’m not sure what my days will be at the school, so I’m not sure if we’ll be together some weeks.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“I was looking forward to more time with you before your job starts.”
“Amy, honestly, it’s okay. Family first. Isn’t that what you always say? Seriously, don’t worry about it. It’s not like we won’t see each other.”
“You’re an angel. Coffee soon?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Parker walks over to me indicating we have to go. We say our goodbyes and pick a time to meet up.
“You ready?” he asks, wrapping his arm around my waist and kissing my temple.
“I was born ready.”
“Then let’s go meet the woman who’s going to help bring our child into the world.”
I’ve lived a life that would make anyone afraid. Afraid of life, love—even hope. There is nothing I’ve faced that I didn’t think I could overcome. Until now …
When we cross into the city, nausea washes over me, settling into the pit of my stomach. The restaurant isn’t too far into St. Paul and the second it comes into view I feel as if I’m going to throw up. My hands are clammy and I’m starting to sweat. Running my fingers through my hair, I try to brush away the uneasy feeling that is taking over.
I’ve been nervous more times than I can count, but nothing like the feeling I have now. I’m afraid of disappointing the person who matters more to me than life itself. If there were ever a time to make a good first impression, this is it. This is the moment that could decide our future. That means it’s also the moment that could push our happy ending further away.
When we pull into the parking spot we both remain silent. Parker’s hands clutch the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.
I rest one hand on top of his. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t look at me.
I flip down the visor to glance in the mirror. Suddenly, I feel like my eye make-up is too dark, my foundation is too thick, and my blush is too bright.
“You look great, Aundrea,” Parker says, facing me.
I give him a weak smile. “Thanks, but I think I went a little overboard.”
“Nonsense. You look amazing, as always. She’s going to love you.”
“Us. She’s going to love us,” I correct. I pray that I like her too. I’m terrified our personalities won’t click, and we’ll decide we’re not a good match.
“Ready?” Parker asks.
My hand stays on top of his.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” I choke.
“Aundrea, I won’t stop until we have a baby in our arms. If this match doesn’t work, there will be another one. I assure you.”
I nod. I need the reassurance. I just want this to work out. Slowly, I get out of the car, trying to keep myself together. Meeting Parker at the front of the car, I wrap my arm around his waist as we walk toward the front door. I take slow, deep breaths, trying to control my nerves. My dress feels too short all of a sudden. I knew I should have gone with the longer one.
“Stop fidgeting.”
“I shouldn’t have worn this. It’s too short, and cut a little low. My boobs are practically bursting out.”
Parker looks down at my cleavage. “Nope, looks great.” He winks, then waggles his eyebrows.
I roll my eyes. “You’re such a man.”
“Last I checked.”
Chuckling, I push into his side playfully. I like that he can make light of the moment, sensing my nervousness.
“I’m serious, Parker.”
“So am I.”
“No, I mean it. I want to look good. I don’t want her to think I’m trashy.”
Parker stops mid-stride. He tilts my chin up so I’m looking directly at him. “Listen to me. You do not look trashy. You’re beautiful. The dress was a perfect choice, and your make-up looks great.”
“Thank you.”
He gives me another wink before taking my hand back into his.
“And for the record, I can’t wait to get you home, flip up your dress, and bury myself deep inside of you.”
“Parker!”
He shrugs, smiling. “What? It’s the truth.”
“I can’t believe you’re thinking about sex right now when we’re about to meet the woman who’s potentially going to be carrying our child.”
“Honey, I’m always thinking about sex with you. Besides, I’m trying to calm you down so you stop fidgeting,” he whispers as we walk through the door.
“I’m not,” I hiss back.
I’m totally fidgeting. I can’t stop fiddling with my dress, rolling the fabric between my fingers. I start rocking side to side as we wait for the hostess. No matter what I try, I can’t stay still.
When she returns, Parker explains that we’re meeting someone and gives her Wendy’s name. She walks us toward the back of the restaurant.