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“Okay.” She put her hands up and backed off.
We stayed silent for a few moments.
“What were you wanting to talk to me about?” I asked, remembering our conversation from before.
“Well…I kinda started writing a book that’s loosely based on your life lately…”
I sat up in the hospital bed and looked at her curiously.
“Please don’t be mad,” she blurted out.
I laughed. “I’m not mad. I want to hear some of it.”
“Well, lucky for you”—Monica leaned over and pulled out her laptop out of her bag—“I have some of it right here.”
I settled back in the bed and she began reading the first few chapters. I closed my eyes and listened to her storytelling, which made my life sound so much more magical than it really was. She really knew how to write.
When she was done reading, I opened my eyes and looked at her.
“How does it end?” I asked softly.
“I’m still waiting to find out.” Monica winked.
Chapter 50
Daniel
“How does it feel to be an old man?” asked Brody as we strode down the sidewalk to our usual coffee spot.
The air was crisp and the leaves were starting to change to shades of burnt orange and warm brown. It was just another reminder of how much time had passed. Another reminder that the baby was growing and readying itself to enter the world, and I would have no part in it. It was shattering.
“Hello? Earth to Daniel,” said Brody, trying again.
“Sorry. Uh, it feels good.” It came out more as a question.
“Oh, come on. You’ve gotta do better than that.”
“What do you want from me, Brody?” I snapped harsher than I intended to.
He put his hands up defensively, as if to ease me before looking ahead. We still had another block to go and on every corner I tried not to look for Heart. Every long-haired brunette made my head turn, until I realized they were missing her round stomach.
How many kicks had I missed? How many sleepless nights had I failed to soothe Heart back to sleep? How many doctor appointments did she have to go to alone? Had she found out if it was a boy or a girl? So many questions that I felt I would never have answered.
Time was passing too quickly and my birthday was just another cruel reminder of that.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Thirty-four just feels…”
“Old.” Brody smirked.
“You’re a real ass.” I shook my head, as I finally gave him the laugh he was chiding me for.
He smiled as he pulled open the door to the coffee shop. The warm air and smell of freshly roasted coffee beans wafted through the doorway, welcoming us in. The tables were crammed with people. Men on their laptops. Women on their phones. Typical Manhattan. We stood in the short line and ordered two Americanos to go.
“It’s his birthday,” said Brody to the barista, nudging me.
I rolled my eyes.
“Well, happy birthday,” she said with a warm smile. “This one is on the house.”