Starting Now (Blossom Street #9)(91)

“I lost my family when my mother and brother died. My father … he just sort of gave up. It wasn’t any better after he remarried. I always felt on the outside … like I didn’t matter.”

“You matter to me,” Phillip whispered as he stroked her hair.

“I’m just feeling sorry for myself, aren’t I? This is nothing more than a pity party.”

“You’re entitled.”

“I called my dad and you know what he said?”

“No,” Phillip whispered, although he had a good idea Libby hadn’t gotten much sympathy from her father.

“He said that it just must not have been meant to be …”

The man might have tried to reassure Libby she could still have a family of her own one day, Phillip mused. Apparently it wasn’t in the old man’s heart to offer love and sympathy to his daughter. He hadn’t been able to when Libby had lost her mother, so it made sense that he was equally incapable now.

She was silent for a long time. “I felt better after talking to Mom.”

“Good.”

“No one ever loved me as much as my mother.”

“No one ever does,” Phillip whispered.

The doorbell rang again and before Libby or Phillip could react, the front door opened and Robin rushed into the nursery.

“Libby, I got here as soon as I could,” Robin cried. She paused when she saw Phillip holding Libby on the nursery floor. The crib was all assembled, with a cute mobile dangling above. In fact, everything was laid out and ready for Amy Jo to come home. Phillip knew Libby must have been up half the night putting everything into place, and it was all for naught.

“Oh, Libby,” Robin said and sank to her knees. “I am so sorry.” She stretched her arms around the two of them and hugged Libby, too.

“Who … who told you?” Libby whispered.

“Phillip. He called to tell me what happened and said you weren’t answering your phone.”

Libby lifted her head in order to look up at him. “You called me?”

Phillip had left no fewer than six messages before heading out to find her. He’d felt an irrepressible need to be with her.

“Phillip thought you’d want your friends around you.”

Libby stretched out her arm and Robin grabbed hold of her fingers. “You’ll get through this, Libby. I know you will.”

Libby nodded and seemed to find strength in her friend’s confidence. “I will … it’s just that it hurts so much right now.”

Phillip realized this was just one more loss to hit Libby after so many others.

A knock sounded against the door and a voice called from the front of the condo.

“Libby. Libby, are you there?”

It was Lydia from the yarn store.

“Come in,” Robin called out. “We’re in the nursery.”

“Oh, Libby,” Lydia said, kneeling down on the floor with the others. “I’m so sorry. Ava told Casey that Peter’s parents have decided to adopt the baby.”

“Tell your friend Alix, the baker, she can cancel the order for the cake for the baby shower,” she said, biting into her lower lip.

“Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that right now. We’ll take care of everything,” Lydia assured her.

Now that Libby was surrounded by her friends, Phillip could see she was in good hands for the time being. Slowly he released her and stood.

Libby raised her eyes to his, pleading with him not to leave.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said, and pressed his hand to his lips and then cast the kiss to her just the way she’d done for him so recently.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

By the time he returned with a quart of wonton soup her friends had left. Libby answered the door and she looked somber, but he could see that she’d pulled herself out of the first shock of the emotional crisis.

“What’s that?” she asked, looking at the bag in his hand.

“Soup. I couldn’t think what else to bring.” It’d taken him the better part of an hour to decide what to get for dinner. It wasn’t like menus offered suggestions for what best ails a broken heart.

“Soup,” she repeated.

“Will that do?”

“I was going to cook you dinner,” she whispered.

“I know. You can do it another time; tonight it’s on me.”

“Thank you.”

He went into the kitchen and brought down two bowls. “I would have brought wine but I couldn’t think of what would go with wonton soup.”

“It’s wonton?”

“One of your favorites, right?”

“Yes, but I’m surprised you knew that.”

He couldn’t remember how he’d picked up that small tidbit of information about her, but it was there in the back of his mind.

“Mom must have told you.”

He smiled … perhaps so. It just might be that Libby’s mother had steered him in that direction. He searched through the kitchen drawers until he found where she kept the silverware. Setting everything up on the breakfast bar, he joined her. They clicked spoons and then ate. Phillip finished first. Libby ate only a few bites.

“It’s good … I just don’t have much of an appetite.”