Page 47 of Lizzie Blake's Best Mistake

“LOL. It will be pure chaos, and it’s best you realize that now,” she said, giggling. “I gotta run. I’ll talk to you soon.”

She hung up, and Rake brought his phone down to his chest, tapping it against the organ in there that seemed to be acting up.

TIME FLEW BYafter that, Rake making his way through an endless list of work and personal tasks to get done before the move.

For her part, Lizzie seemed to be throwing herself into the deepest corners of the internet with pregnancy research, sending Rake weekly texts and keeping him thoroughly updated on every time she puked and just how badly her boobs still hurt. A few days before his move, she sent him a message that stopped him in his tracks and made everything feel that much realer.

Do you want to go to the first ultrasound?Followed immediately by:No pressure or whatever.

Of course he wanted to go. The idea ofnotbeing there was unthinkable, and he told her such. In a much less dramatic way, of course.

On Rake’s final day in Sydney, he drove out of the city to visit his parents. He pulled up in front of the short picket fence surrounding the bungalow he’d grown up in. He stared at the home for a few minutes, suddenly desperate to memorize every crack in the walk-up, every leaf of his mum’s rosebushes. He was feeling a bit… sentimental? Perhaps? It was hard to know for sure because Rake picked up the emotion by its scruff and tossed it right out of his brain.

Eventually, he pulled himself out of the trance and headed inside.

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mum, Leanne, said by way of greeting, wrapping him in a hug as he stepped into the kitchen. Rake stooped down a bit to accommodate her, giving her a gentle pat on the back. “I hope you’re hungry,” Leanne said, pulling away and trying to subtly wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Your dad has enough food on the barbie to feed an army.”

“I simply cook whatever she hands me,” Rake’s dad, Peter, said, as he walked in through the sliding doors from the backyard. “Learned long ago not to ask questions,” Peter added,shooting Leanne a cheeky wink as she swatted at him with her towel. Rake smiled.

Peter placed a plate of grilled prawns and a platter stacked with enough meat to feed a family of ten at the center of the table.

“How’s Lizzie?” Leanne asked as she scooped some salad onto her plate.

Rake had one of those bizarrely healthy relationships with his parents, and he’d told them both everything when he’d returned from seeing Lizzie. While his mum had shed some tears over him moving so far away, she’d been supportive of the situation and had asked Rake about Lizzie every day for weeks.

“She’s good,” Rake said. “Told me yesterday she feels like she’s carrying a big wheel of cheese.”

Peter snorted.

“Oh Lord, I remember that feeling, even thirty years later,” Leanne said, shooting Rake a smile. “Felt the size of a house.”

“She was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Peter said, beaming at his wife. Rake looked on as they glanced at each other with such natural affection.

He wondered why he didn’t have that gene, why it felt so unnatural for him to show endearment. Not that he wanted the capability. Fondness led to hurt, and Rake was not interested inthatexperience again, thank you very much.

His parents chattered on in earnest—his mum discussing her book club, his dad talking about their plans to visit friends in Melbourne in a few weeks—and Rake let their words flow around him like a river of contentment. He’d miss them like hell.

When the time finally came for goodbye, both of his parents misty-eyed as they wrapped him in tight hugs, something sharp and strong poked at Rake’s ribs and throat, but he pushed it away.

Everything would be okay. It had to be.

Chapter 22

RAKE could barely keep his eyes open as the Lyft made its way from the Philadelphia airport to Lizzie’s apartment.

The flight had been long and grueling, the line to get through customs and security even longer. Lizzie had offered to come get him in Indira’s car, which they were using to move their stuff to the new apartment, but Rake decided it would be easier for her to focus on getting herself organized and they’d meet at her place.

The car pulled up to the curb, and Rake hopped out, grabbing his two large suitcases from the trunk and giving the driver a quickthanks.

Packing had been laughably easy. He’d been able to fit most of his wardrobe into one suitcase, using the other for some work things, a few books, and other odds and ends like sheets and towels. He had sold or donated everything else, wondering if his lack of attachment or sentimental value to anything in his old place meant he was emotionally evolved or just really fucking sad.

Double-checking the address, Rake punched in the door code Lizzie had texted him, then let himself into the building and up the elevator to her floor.

When the flight had taken off and Rake stared down at hisdisappearing country, he’d felt something close to… well, something kind of close to excitement, at seeing Lizzie again. Which was bizarre, and he shook it off as stress at the time. But now, as he knocked on her door, all he felt was a bone-deep tiredness and an exceptionally strong desire to get all of this done with quickly so he could fall asleep for the next forty-eight hours.

The door swung open, and for a moment, Rake’s heart sparked in preparation for Lizzie’s brilliant smile, the brick wall of energy that always seemed to crash into him when he laid his eyes on her.

All very normal, emotionally distant physical responses that he was sure he only felt because she was carrying their child.