“Okay. Well, that’s too bad.”
We shower and dress and walk down to the diner. He holds my hand, but it just doesn’t feel the same.
“They have burritos here too,” he says, trying to make the best out of a bad situation, and I smile and say, “Great! Convenient to eat on our walk back.”
When we get to his car, he says, “I had such a great time. I wish I didn’t have to go so soon.”
“Same here,” I tell him, just because it’s what’s expected of me to say.
What I want to say is that he shouldn’t have even come if it was just for one more night of casual sex, but I know that would be unfair of me. I know I signed up for this, willingly, and that it’s neither of our faults that it changed on my part but not on his.
“I liked adding an extra night to our Just for One Weekend,” he adds, but to me it’s like an old, tired joke, and I can barely eke out a pretend laugh.
He leans down to kiss me and I try to conjure up the feelings I had had for him just this morning. I try to remember our good times together and not get hung up on the fact that he only wanted this to be a short- term fling, which I’d known about from the beginning.
But my attempts fall short, and the only positive thought I have is that at least now I know for sure where he stands. It was fantasy on my part to think he’d want to be with me for anything longer than this last extended weekend.
“Goodbye, Ramsey,” I tell him, as he presses me against his chest for what I know will be the last time ever.
“Goodbye for now, Monica,” he says, and I want to tell him to stop getting my hopes up. But at this point, I just want him to leave without any drama.
I need to start focusing on what lies in front of me. My life, without Ramsey, and with his child, who he can’t know about.
He drives away and I crumple up the burrito wrapper in my hand, as if it’s my heart.
Chapter 25
“Mom, I hope you have an appetite, because this pizza place is too die for,” I tell her, as we enter Carmen’s Pizza.
“It’s Chicago style deep- dish pizza,” Riley joins in. “So we can pretend that we went even further away than we did!”
We’ve taken her to Santa Fe on the train, for a little trip before Harlow and I are deployed. It’s our last day of R&R and tomorrow we report for travel.
“I don’t know why we couldn’t just stay in Albuquerque and eat at Las Cuates,” Mom says. “It’s my favorite restaurant and I love when you boys take me there.”
“We’ll take you there next Sunday, Ma,” Jensen says. “Aren’t you glad we’re doing something exciting and different before Harlow and Ramsey leave?”
Mom just shrugs.
The waiter comes over and we order two pizzas and some sodas. One of the best things about this place— in addition to the delicious food, of course— is that they don’t serve alcohol. As far as I’ve heard, Mom has been behaving herself since our little chat, but I don’t want anything to change that.
“How’s the moving going, Mom?” I ask her.
She’s spent the last couple of days moving her things from my house to Jensen and Riley’s house, and she’s going out of her way to show how unhappy she is about the change.
“Yeah, Ramsey has to be filled in on what’s going on at his own house,” Harlow jokes. “Because he was off on his ‘spirit quest,’ and wasn’t there.”
“Very funny.”
Everyone laughs, but they’ve been seriously wondering about my whereabouts. I told them I needed time alone, and to get a break from mom and not be around when she moves out, because she was driving me crazy.
It’s true (I just left out the part about going to Florida to see Monica), and I think they bought it, except that Whitney keeps giving me looks that are either knowing, or curious, or both. Even now she raises an eyebrow at me, but I try to ignore it.
Maybe she’s just being nosy. She’s been looking particularly happy all day, for a woman whose boyfriend is about to go off to war. I’m relieved when the pizza arrives, and I can eat instead of being grilled about my whereabouts.
“This is really delicious,” Whitney says, and I’m glad that she’s done being skeptical of me.
She’s the only one who of us except for Mom who hasn’t been here. It’s been a favorite of Harlow’s and Jensen’s and mine, and Jensen introduced Riley to it fairly recently.
Mom appears to enjoy the pizza, but she doesn’t say anything one way or the other. She’s boycotting me, and refusing to have a good time, because I’m making her move out. I don’t know why she thought I’d let her stay in my house alone, but it’s not happening, no matter how much of a fuss she makes.
“Well, Mom,” says Harlow, mid-way through the meal. “I wanted to tell you that I love you and I’ll miss you while I’m gone.”
“Me too,” I say, between bites.
“I’m glad we could take this little trip together,” Harlow continues.
“Me too,” I agree again.
“And Whitney and I have an exciting announcement to share,” he says.
I’m about to say “Me too,” just out of habit, but my mouth hangs open, as I realize what he’s about to say. Both Jensen and Riley look shocked, too. Mom just goes on eating, as if she doesn’t know, or doesn’t want to know, that something exciting is happening.
“What?” Riley says, looking at Whitney with a slow smile that spreads across her face.
“Yes, we’re engaged,” says Harlow, nodding solemnly but with obvious glee peeking through.
Whitney reaches into her purse and pulls out a diamond ring. She slips it on her finger, glowing brightly.
“I decided to hide it until Harlow made the announcement,” she says. “For shock value.”
“Very nice!” says Riley, reaching across the table for her hand. “Let me see!”
She holds up Whitney’s finger, displaying the large diamond glistening brightly.
“Good job,” I tell Harlow, a little miffed that he hadn’t even included me in the preparation discussions. “I can’t miss it from here.”
“Hazard pay comes in handy,” he laughs. “And I didn’t want to leave for Afghanistan before putting a ring on it. So I popped the question yesterday.”
He says it in a nonchalant way, but it’s obvious he’s happy. I would have thought that Harlow had become such a sap, if I didn’t know how much he truly cares for Whitney, and how good they are together.
“Well congratulations, Harlow,” Mom says, dryly.
She’s always been a bit jealous of any other girls, and I’m sure she was happier when all three of her sons were single.
Whitney doesn’t let Mom’s tone get in the way of her happiness.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bradford,” she says, blushing and gushing at the same time. “I’m really so happy that Harlow proposed. It’ll make the separation so much easier.”
“It’ll go faster now that you can plan for a wedding!” Riley says. “How did he propose? Fill us in on all the details!”
“Well,” says Whitney, smiling so much she can barely talk. “He took me to the duck pond at UNM, and we had a picnic lunch. He’d made sandwiches and brought wine and everything.”
“Impressive!” I shoot a proud glance at my baby brother.
“Did you have any idea what was coming?” Riley asks.
“No, not at all!” Whitney says. “We had discussed getting married eventually, but it always seemed like an in- the- future type of conversation. Since we haven’t been together that long, I assumed it would be something we discussed more in depth when he got back. Although, of course, if it were up to me, we would already be…”
She takes a deep breath, and we all know that she was about to say “married by now.” But she catches herself, and says “We would have gotten engaged right away! That’s how sure I am.”
“Awww!” says Riley.
“Yeah, so I thought it was just a going away picnic,” Whitney continues. “I knew it was supe
r romantic and sweet, but I had no idea what was really coming my way. But then he took out some bread crumbs so we could feed the ducks. One of them was much heavier than normal…”
“…and I said, ‘You probably won’t want to feed that one to the ducks,’” Harlow jumps in, laughing.
Whitney is cracking up.
“He had hid the ring inside a big piece of bread to surprise me, but then he was afraid I’d throw it away and it’d be gone forever,” she says.
“I began to worry that I’d hid it too well!” Harlow says. “I imagined some duck getting it and swallowing it, or taking it into the pond, where it would sink down to the bottom. Either way, we’d never see it again!”
“You’d have to take the duck to the vet and do something to make him… well, you know… since we’re still eating…” Riley says, laughing along with Whitney.
Everyone’s laughing now, even Mom.
“So I kind of ruined it…” Harlow says.
“No you didn’t!” Whitney protests. “It was perfect!”
“…but in the end, I think I pulled off the surprise pretty well. I got down one knee on the picnic blanket and asked her to marry me, since she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Awww,” Riley coos.
She looks almost as choked up as Whitney does. I have to admit, it’s really touching.
“Good job, brother!” says Jensen, raising his plastic glass of soda.
“To Harlow and Whitney!” I say. “Long live the latest Bradford couple.”
“Another one bites the dust,” Jensen says, and we laugh as we toast.
Chapter 26
Later, as Harlow helps Whitney onto the train platform, and she turns around to look at him with sparkling eyes, I feel a surprising pang of longing and loss.
Or perhaps it isn’t that surprising.
I know that Monica and I shared something I’ve never felt for anyone before. But that doesn’t mean it can last, like Harlow and Whitney or Jensen and Riley. There’s no way it could be the real thing.
Could it?
I’m quiet during the train ride back, although everyone else’s mood is boisterous and happy. Whitney takes time out from discussing wedding plans with Riley to ask, “Hey Ramsey, you okay?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell her. “I just don’t have much to contribute in the way of details about flowers or decorations.”
“But you’ll play the guitar for the ceremony, right?” she asks.
“Sure.”
“Oh good. I need to steal that element from Jensen and Riley’s wedding. It was beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
I smile at her, and turn back to my thoughts of Monica once Whitney and Riley start discussing catering options.
When we get back to Albuquerque, I say goodbye to Riley and Whitney— neither of whom I’ll see again for six months— before they drive Mom home. I’ll say goodbye to her tomorrow morning before I leave.
And then there’s only one thing left for Jensen, Harlow and I to do before tomorrow arrives. We go to my dad’s gravesite.
His tombstone is a bit dusty, so we sweep it off until we can read the words on his headstone clearly:
James Bradford:
Devoted Father and Beloved Friend.
Then we prop up a wreath we brought, made out of blue and white flowers— his favorite color was blue. I know that the flowers will wilt and die long before I’m here again, but it comforts me to imagine that Dad knows we visit him and that we’re thinking of him.
“Dad,” I say, always the ringleader in these sorts of things. “Harlow and I are going back to Afghanistan tomorrow, but only for six months. We’ll be back soon.”
“And we have something to celebrate,” Harlow adds. “Whitney and I are engaged.”
“Can you believe it?” asks Jensen. “Two of your three sons, tied to an old ball and chain.”
There’s an awkward silence. The mood isn’t as jovial as it was at the restaurant or on the train. I guess we’re all thinking of saying, “Don’t worry, Dad. It’ll turn out okay.”
No one wants to be reminded of how it didn’t work out for Dad— how I’m the only one with the guarantee of escaping heartache. Or at least, as far as they know.
“Okay, Ramsey, do you want to play the song now?” Jensen asks.
“Sure.”
I pick up my guitar and play the song I wrote for Dad, which is something that’s quickly becoming a tradition when the three of us gather at Dad’s gravesite.
I always wanted to say goodbye.
But how can I do that when I can’t let go?
I never wanted to say goodbye.
Because you’re still with me, wherever I go.
When I finish playing, the lyrics haunt me. I wrote them for Dad— before I even knew Monica— but now they’ve taken on a new, additional meaning, involving her.
“Well, I’m going to go ahead and get home,” Jensen says, nodding towards his bike. “I’ll come pick you both up in Riley’s car tomorrow morning, and drive you to the base.”
“Sounds great, thanks,” Harlow says. He lingers near the grave, his foot kicking up a little bit of grass, and I can sense that he’d like some alone time with Dad. I guess he has some things to discuss in private.
“See you in the morning,” I say, hugging him.
“Night.”
I walk back to my Jeep, and turn the engine on. The Just For One Weekend soundtrack that Monica made me starts blasting right away, and it happens to be randomly playing “Under the Bridge.”
At least I have the love of a damn fine city like Albuquerque, I think to myself. But the city really is my only companion.
And whose fault is that? I ask myself.
I sit in the Jeep while the sun sets, until I see Harlow head to his car, on the other side of the parking lot. If he notices me still sitting here, he doesn’t acknowledge me, and I’m grateful for that.
Once I see him drive away, I turn off the Jeep and walk back down to Dad’s gravesite.
“I wanted to ask you something, Dad, before I leave. I mean, even though I know you’re always with me, everywhere, I wanted to tell you here at your gravesite,” I say out loud. “I know that you and Mom had a bad ending, but a good start. You were in love with her, and you always did everything you could to let her and everyone else know.”
I pause.
I can almost hear my dad’s voice, see his kind eyes.
What’s your question, Son?
“I used to think you were weak for loving her so much,” I tell him. “I didn’t really understand. But now I see it was what you lived your life for. Mom, and us, gave you purpose and meaning. And that’s more than a lot of people have in their lifetime. So I guess my question is…”
Yes?
“How did you know it was real love? How did you know it was worth risking— and enduring— heartache for?”
There’s silence, of course. I didn’t really expect my dad to be able to answer.
But I already know the answer, just as clearly as if he was saying it to me sout loud.
When it’s real, you just know it. You just feel it. And you can’t fight it, no matter how hard you try.
Chapter 27
4 Months Later
I’m in the hospital, and I’m so scared.
“Everything’s going to be all right,” Susan reassures me, stroking my free hand, the one that isn’t hooked up to IVs and wires. Then she pats me on the shoulder, her hand touching the thin cloth material of my hospital gown. “I think this can be perfectly normal in pregnancy.”
“Perfectly normal? Susan, I don’t think so.”
She looks hurt, and I know she’s only trying to help, so I add, “I mean, I hope you’re right, but I think bleeding and cramps are signs of… abnormal things… in pregnancy.”
Not to mention the pelvic pressure that won’t let me sleep or walk, I think. But I don’t want to scare Susan any more than she already is.
“You’re past the miscarriage timeframe, though,” she says. “It might be normal later in pregnancy for things to go a little… wonky.”
She’s right that I made it past the most common miscarriage point, much to my delight. I tried not to let myself get too excited about this pregnancy— and I certainly didn’t tell anyone other than Susan— until after twelve weeks had passed and I was safely in the second trimester.
As the baby has grown, so has my excitement. I enjoy knowing that I have a little secret that only the baby and I know about— and a few select others. After I told my parents, and my friend Trish from high school, I knew no one would ever understand.
“Who’s the father?” they wanted to know, right away.
“I’d prefer to keep that to myself,” is my standard answer.
“Was it a… one night stand?” Trish asked, lowering her voice as if we were discussing a horrible event instead of the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
“No,” I told her, snappishly. Not exactly, anyway.
“Don’t you think he has the right to know?” asked my mother, burrowing her brow at me in disapproval.
“Maybe, but I don’t think everyone else has that right,” I’d shrugged, defiantly.
But really, the question of whether or not he— Ramsey— had the right to know has been weighing heavily on me. I haven’t been able to get him out of my head, and it doesn’t help that I’ve been feeding my fantasies by playing that damn sound track music over and over again.
He’d even called a couple times, but each time was brief and hurried. He’d told me that he was safe, that he couldn’t tell me his unit’s exact location due to strict security measures, but that they didn’t have good communication abilities with the outside world and he would try to call in a couple months once they changed locations— which would be any day now.
Sometimes I wonder if his phone calls were just ways to distance himself from my life and slowly fade away. But then, why call at it? To ease his conscience? To talk to me without really talking to me? It was confusing.
Sold on Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and a Billionaire Romance Page 27