“You guys don’t really fight. What happened?”
Harper turned her face so she could see the tide and the moon-soaked beach. Should she just blurt it out? She shouldn’t say anything. It sucked to get her caught in the middle of the whole thing.
“Stop overthinking and just tell me.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“Holy shit!”
Harper could hear her bouncing. Literally.
“Are you freaking kidding me? You guys are going to have a Mini D? Or a Mini H? Oh, man. That is so awesome. This is huge. Epic. Oh my God, I’m going to be the most amazeballs Auntie Jazz. Seriously. Do you have to be Catholic to be a godparent?”
“Jazz—”
“And wow. Seriously. You guys are going to be the most perfect parents. Can’t you see D with those big hands holding on to a little baby? And hair…holy crap, between the two of you, this kid is going to be all hair.”
Harper closed her eyes, unable to stop the flow of tears. That had been the one thing she kept blocking herself from doing. To actually see Deacon with a baby in his arms. For such a big man, he was nothing but graceful and gentle.
“Did you figure it out before you guys left?”
Harper sniffled. “Yesterday.”
“Oh, wow. So are you like, yacking your guts out on your sex-a-thon vacation?”
“No, actually. I’m having a creepy aversion to most foods, but no upchucking, thank God.” Well, except the one time at the bar, but that had been more about the horrifying realization that she’d drank so much the night before.
“So are you guys excited? Man, I’d be excited. Well, maybe not about the manster child growing inside me. Damn, girl, your guy is not tiny.”
Harper slid her hand over her flat belly. Jazz was right. Deacon was not a small guy. The baby would be part her too—if she kept it.
“You’re really quiet, Chef Girl.”
“The timing on this isn’t the best, Pix.”
“What do you mean?”
She heard the honest puzzlement in Jazz’s voice. As young as Jazz was, obviously with her, the thought of a baby overrode things like…God, do I keep it?
“You guys are going into the studio and will be touring right around the time I would have it.”
“Harper, we’re talking about a baby, not an it.”
She hadn’t allowed it to be a baby. It had been so much easier that way. It was a problem to solve. And now…suddenly the baby was far more real.
Deacon’s voice was in her head from earlier. That the embryo was the size of a comma. That he or she would be just starting to develop. In two more weeks, the baby would be so much more.
“We—I was thinking that maybe it would be best to wait.”
“You want to have an abortion?”
The word was so final. So loud and accusatory in Jazz’s normally sweet voice. And then Harper bowed her head. Jazz had been a foster child. Shit.
Stupid, selfish idiot, Harper Lee.
“We don’t know what we’re doing yet. We just got married. I never thought I’d be pregnant at twenty-three.”
“Right.”
Jazz’s voice was so soft. Harper wanted to rip her damn tongue out for hurting this girl. Even unintentionally.
She wanted to be excited like Jazz. She wanted to do cartwheels and be planning baby showers and rooms and figuring out names. And maybe she would be like that if they’d actually planned and talked about it.
But they hadn’t.
And she didn’t know how to feel. She couldn’t match up the emotions with the huge wall of fear and dozens of what ifs.
“I don’t know what to do,” Harper whispered.
“What has Deak said?”
Harper felt the slide of tears down her temples as she focused on the star-strewn sky above her. Anything not to break down again. Because she really didn’t know what Deacon wanted.
And she knew that was her fault.
He was taking his cues from her. And she was so completely a hot mess. Deacon only knew how to be the support guy. When had he actually ever demanded something from her?
Well, besides the caveman routine to get her to marry him. But that had been sweet and romantic in his way. And she’d loved that he’d taken charge like that. She’d never tell him that, of course. Secretly, she’d loved it. To know that he was so very certain.
It had helped make her more certain.
Maybe that’s what this whole situation was missing.
Her rock was flailing just as much as she was.
“I’m going to say something and it’s only because I love you guys so much. I know it’s none of my business. Not really.”
“I wouldn’t have called if I didn’t want your input, Jazz.”
“Good. Because you’re going to get it.” Jazz took a deep breath. “This might not be planned. And I know we’ve talked about this over a jug of sangria a few times…but this whole crazy whirlwind you have with Deacon. It might be just your thing. Plans have their place. And sometimes the cosmos, or fate, or God, whatever you want to call it…sometimes it has other plans.”