More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(87)

“What are you going to do?” Tina asked, and Libby raised her hands and shoulders in another angry shrug.

“Push for the divorce. I need to move on with my life. I’m sorry, Tina. I don’t mean to lay this all on you like this.”

“That’s what friends are for, Libby,” Tina said.

“Really, Tina? Because sometimes I feel like I tell you everything, and you tell me nothing.” Tina knew Libby was referring to the massive secret she had kept for more than a decade, and she couldn’t blame her friend for sounding a little bitter and disillusioned.

“I told Harris about . . . about Fletcher tonight.” Saying her baby’s name was hard, but she hadn’t used it when she told Libby about him the other day, and he deserved to be referred to by name. “It wasn’t easy.”

“How did he take it?” Libby asked softly.

“I think he was . . . shocked. Devastated. He shed a few tears.”

“Good! Why should you be the only one to live with that, Tina? He should face up to his accountability as well. I’m so angry with him. I expected more from him.” Libby’s expression had gone flinty, and Tina inexplicably felt herself wanting to defend Harris from her friend’s wrath.

“To be fair,” she began, keeping her tone rational. She had never meant to drive a wedge between Libby and Harris. Libby valued his friendship too much, and vice versa. “I told him I was on the pill—I was on the pill—but I foolishly thought that it would be effective after only a few hours.” The words were coming out slowly, the thoughts forming as she said them. But as she verbalized those thoughts, Tina recognized that these were things she should have told herself years ago. “He had no idea I would get pregnant; he trusted that I wouldn’t. Blaming him for something he had zero control over, and no knowledge of, is . . . unfair.”

Libby sucked her lips into her mouth, her cute dimple making an appearance as she considered Tina’s words.

“He should have used a condom.” Her words carried no real heat, and Tina nodded.

“He would probably agree with you.”

“Ugh, these Chapman men. Why couldn’t we fall for sweet, uncomplicated guys?” Libby asked on a tired exhalation.

“I didn’t fall for Harris,” Tina denied quickly, even while her conscience called her a big fat Liar. With a capital L. “I had a stupid teenage crush on him, and unfortunately there were consequences.”

“I didn’t fall for Greyson either. Well, not much,” Libby said before continuing with a wry grin. “Only a little, really—barely a stumble.”

Tina laughed at her friend’s self-deprecating wit.

“Only an idiot would fall for a man whose heart is completely encased in ice,” Libby finished, her smile fading and the light disappearing from her striking eyes. She cleared her throat self-consciously and got up, smoothing her palms down the front of her skirt.

“We should get going. Thank you for watching Clara tonight.” Tina got up as well, stuffing the toy that she had been clutching to her chest throughout their conversation into Clara’s baby bag.

“I honestly could not have done it without Harris,” Tina admitted. “But tonight has helped, Libby. So much. And finally holding her made me remember so many wonderful things about my baby.”

“I’m glad, Tina,” Libby said and reached out to hug her. Tina clung to her taller friend for a moment, comforted by her embrace.

Harris couldn’t sleep; his thoughts were too chaotic to settle down. And he was concerned that the stress of that night would result in another nightmare for Tina. When hours passed without a sound from the other side of the wall, he wondered if her thoughts were keeping her awake too.

“Tina?” He used his normal voice. His bed, like hers, was flush against the wall, and, bizarrely enough, because of the way the house had been divided, it was easier to hear Tina moving around in her room than it was to hear Greyson, whose room was separated from Harris’s by the bathroom.

His phone pinged, and he dragged it out from beneath his pillow.

I refuse to talk to you through a wall.

His lips tilted, and he put his palm against the wall, picturing her on the other side, doing the same.

I was worried you’d have a nightmare.

Hard to have a nightmare when you can’t sleep. Her response was immediate. She was typing again, so he refrained from responding, waiting to see what she would add.

Are you okay? The question made him blink repetitively in an attempt to clear the blurriness from his eyes.

I should ask you that.

I’ve had ten years to come to terms with what happened. You’ve had two hours.

He stared at those words for a long time, not sure how to respond to them. Ten years, two hours, the loss remained the same, merely a bit blunted by time, in her case.

Would you mind sending me pictures? Of Fletcher?

He stared at the screen fixedly.

Nothing. Not even typing.

Please? Seconds after he sent the word, he received a veritable barrage of pictures.

Ping! Ping! Pingpingping!

About fifty photos in thirty seconds, and they kept coming. By the time the welcome onslaught had stopped, he was already scrolling through the more than a hundred pictures, and a few clips, of Fletcher and Tina that she had sent him.

His phone pinged again while he was watching a sweet little video clip of Fletcher dozing off, his pink mouth blowing bubbles as he drifted off. He could hear Tina’s gentle voice singing in the background. Alicia Keys.