Page 27 of Regretting You

Chapter Fifteen

Morgan

I’ve been sitting on the back patio, contemplating.

I’m not sure what I’m contemplating. My mind is like a Ping-Pong ball, bouncing from thoughts about Chris, to thoughts about how I need to start applying for jobs, to thoughts about going back to college, to thoughts about Clara and how she’s way past curfew.

It’s almost ten thirty now, so I text her. Again.

You’re late. Please come home.

She’s been staying out a lot, and I have no idea who she’s with because she barely talks to me anymore. When she is here, she’s in her bedroom. The app shows she’s always either at Lexie’s or Starbucks, but who in the world spends that much time at a coffee shop?

There’s a soft knock on my back patio door, and I glance up, almost having forgotten that Jonah has been here for the past twenty minutes, fixing the kitchen door. I stand up and tuck my hair behind my ears when he walks outside.

“Do you have pliers?”

“I’m pretty sure Chris does, but his toolbox has a lock on it. But I might have a pair.” I walk into the house and go to the laundry room. I keep my own toolbox for when I needed to fix stuff when Chris wasn’t around. It’s black and pink. Chris got it for me for Christmas one year.

He also got one for Jenny. The thought pierces me.

Sometimes I think it’s getting better, but then the simplest memories remind me how much it still sucks. I pull my toolbox down and hand it to Jonah.

Jonah opens it and sorts through it. He doesn’t find what he needs. “They’re old hinges,” he says. “I can’t get the last one off because it’s stripped so bad. I have something that’ll work at the house, but it’s late, so I’ll just come back tomorrow if that’s fine?”

He says it like it’s a question, so I nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

I texted him yesterday, telling him I couldn’t get the kitchen door off the hinges and asking if he could help.

He said he’d be over tonight but that it would be late because he was picking his sister up at the airport.

He didn’t even ask why I needed the door off the hinges.

When he got here earlier, he never even asked why there was a huge hole in it.

He just walked straight to the door and got to work.

I’m waiting for him to ask what happened as we walk toward the front door, but he doesn’t. I don’t like the quiet, so I throw a question in the mix that I don’t even really care to know the answer to.

“How long is your sister in town for?”

“Until Sunday. She’d love to see you. She just ... you know. She didn’t know if you’d want company.”

I don’t, but for some reason, I smile and say, “I’d love to see her.”

Jonah laughs. “No, you wouldn’t.”

I shrug because he’s right. I barely know her. I met her once when we were teens, and I saw her for a few minutes the day after Elijah was born. And she was at both funerals. But that’s the extent of my relationship with her. “You’re right. It was the polite thing to say.”

“You don’t have to be polite,” Jonah says. “Neither do I. It’s the only positive thing to come out of this. We get at least a six-month pass to be assholes.” I smile, and he nudges his head toward his car. “Walk me out?”

I follow him to his car, but before he gets in, he rests his back against the driver’s-side door and folds his arms over his chest. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about it any more than I do. But it affects our kids, so ...”

I slide my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. I sigh and look up at the night sky. “I know. We have to discuss it. Because if it’s true ...”

“It makes Clara and Elijah half siblings,” Jonah says.

It’s weird hearing it out loud. I blow out a slow breath, nervous about what it means. “Are you planning on telling him someday?”

Jonah nods, slowly. “Someday. If he asks. If it comes up in conversation.” He sighs. “I honestly don’t know. What do you think? Do you want Clara to know?”

I’m hugging myself now. It’s not cold out, but I have chills for some reason. “No. I never want Clara to find out. It would devastate her.”

Jonah doesn’t look angry that I’m essentially asking him not to tell Elijah the truth. He only looks sympathetic to our situation. “I hate that they left this mess for us to clean up.”

I agree with him on that. It’s a disaster of a mess. One I still haven’t even wrapped my head around fully. It’s too much to think about so soon and too much for me to want to discuss it right now. I change the subject, because either way, decisions aren’t being made tonight.

“Clara’s birthday is in two weeks. I’m thinking about keeping the tradition going with a cookout, but I’m not sure if she would want me to. It won’t be the same without them here.”

“You should ask her,” Jonah suggests.

I laugh half-heartedly. “We aren’t on the best terms right now. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells around her. She’d disagree with anything I suggested.”

“She’s almost seventeen. It would be more out of the ordinary if things were perfect between the two of you.”

I appreciate him saying that, but I also know it’s not entirely true. I know a lot of mothers who get along just fine with their teenagers. I’m just not one of the lucky ones. Or maybe it isn’t about luck. Maybe I went wrong somewhere along the way.

“I can’t believe she’s about to be seventeen,” he says. “I remember the day you found out you were pregnant with her.”

I remember it too. It was the day before he left.

I divert my gaze to the concrete beneath my feet. Looking at him brings back too many emotions, and I’m really sick of emotions at this point. I clear my throat and take a step back, just as headlights brighten the yard around us. I look up and watch as Clara finally pulls into the driveway.

Jonah takes that as his cue to leave, so he opens his car door. “Good night, Morgan.” He waves at Clara before getting into his car. I give him a silent wave and watch him drive away. He’s already at the end of our street before Clara gets out of her car.

I fold my arms over my chest again and stare at her expectantly.

She shuts her door and acknowledges me with a nod but walks toward the front door. I follow her inside the house, where she kicks her shoes off by the couch. “What was that?” she asks.

“What was what?”

She tosses a hand toward the front yard. “You and Jonah. In the dark. It was weird.”

I narrow my eyes at her, wondering if she’s just trying to deflect right now. “Why are you late for curfew?”

She looks down at her phone. “I am?”

“Yes. I texted you. Twice.”

She swipes her finger across the screen. “Oh. I didn’t hear them come through.” She slips her phone in her back pocket. “Sorry. I was studying at Starbucks ... lost track of time. I didn’t realize it was so late.” She points over her shoulder as she backs toward the hallway. “I need to shower.”

I don’t even bother pushing for a more honest answer. She wouldn’t give me one anyway.

I walk to the kitchen and grab a Jolly Rancher. I lean against the counter and stare absentmindedly at the hole in my kitchen door, wondering why Jonah so casually brought up the day I found out I was pregnant, like it wasn’t one of the worst days of my life.

Maybe he brought it up because his leaving the next day didn’t mean as much to him as it did to the rest of us.

I’ve forced myself not to think about that week since it happened, but now that Jonah brought it up, every moment of that day begins running through my mind.

We were at the lake. The three of them had been swimming, and I was sitting on a blanket in the grass, reading a book. They all came out of the water at the same time, but Jonah was the only one who walked in my direction. Chris and Jenny ran up the embankment toward the playground.

“Morgan!” Jenny yelled. “Come swing with us!” She was running backward up the hill, trying to entice me over.

I shook my head and waved her on. I wasn’t in the mind-set to be playful that day.

I hadn’t even wanted to go to the lake in the first place, but Chris insisted on it.

I wanted a night alone with him, without Jonah and Jenny tagging along.

I needed to talk to him in private, but we hadn’t had a single second of privacy that day.

Sometimes he was oblivious to my moods, even though I had certainly been in a mood since realizing I was late for my period last night.

“What’s eating you today?” Jonah said as he dropped onto the grass next to me. “You’ve been acting strange.”

I almost laughed at his timing. “Did Chris send you over to fish it out of me?”

Jonah stared at me like I had somehow insulted him. “Chris lives in blissful oblivion.”

Jonah’s response surprised me. I noticed he had been making jabs at Chris. Little ones. Harmless ones. But I noticed. “I thought you guys were supposed to be best friends.”

“We are,” Jonah said. “I’d do anything for him.”

“Sometimes you act like you don’t even like him.”

Jonah didn’t deny it. Instead, he gave his attention to the lake in front of us, like my comment forced him into contemplation.

I picked up a pebble and threw it toward the lake. It didn’t even hit the water.

“We’re out of drinks,” Chris said, jogging up to us. He dropped onto the grass dramatically and pulled me to him. He kissed me. “I’m gonna run to the store. Wanna come?”

I was relieved to finally get some alone time with him. We had a lot to talk about. “Sure.”

“I have to pee,” Jenny said. “I’m coming too.”

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes, but every time I thought I might get one minute alone to talk to Chris about what was going on with me, something or someone inserted themselves into our scene. “Take Jenny,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll wait here.”

“You sure?” Chris asked as he hopped to his feet.

I nodded. “Better hurry—she’s already racing you up the hill.”

Chris looked behind him and then took off in a sprint. “Cheater!”