Swear (Landry Family #4)

by Adriana Locke

  “You’re trusting Heath to talk to Ford?” Violet laughs.

  “Only because I’m absolutely sure Ford’s not gay.” I struggle to stand, my knees wobbly. “That’s what got us here, after all.”

  She laughs. I don’t.

  I look in the mirror. My face is worse than I even imagined. Broken blood vessels in my cheeks from straining, puffy eyes, drained skin.

  Violet’s face pops up next to mine. “Want me to stay or go?”

  “Go. In the hallway. I’ll tell you when I know something.”

  She squeezes my shoulder and disappears, closing the door snugly behind her.

  The box feels like a bomb in my hand, ready to go off at any minute and blow up my world, one that I’ve been so careful with. As I open it and read the instructions, basically trying to figure out how many stripes mean what, I try to squash a flurry of eagerness trying to take over.

  I think of anything I can except what I’m doing as I pee on the stick. Placing it on the counter while I wash my hands, I don’t look at it. I know that whatever it shows in a few seconds will change my life one way or the other.

  After I’ve dried my hands so that not a drop of water remains, flushed the toilet, dried off the counter, and fixed my hair in the mirror, I look.

  Two. Pink. Stripes.

  The gasp isn’t completely out of my mouth when the door shoves open. I register it. I sense the movement of Vi and Heath coming in, but I don’t move. I just stare at this little piece of plastic in front of me.

  “I knew it,” Violet gushes, pulling me in a hug. I don’t hug her back. I don’t even move my arms. I just hold the stick in front of my face and feel the hot tears slowly move down my cheeks.

  Heath’s arms wrap around the two of us as we stand in the middle of my bathroom. No one says a word.

  All I can think about is telling Ford and his reaction. I wonder how it will mirror the first time I had to tell him I thought we were having a baby.

  The tears come harder as I’m flooded with so many emotions I can’t even begin to get them together. My friends hold me, rubbing my back, whispering things in my ear that I can’t hear over the sound of my own thoughts.

  Once I simmer down and they release me, I set the test on the counter and splash cool water on my face. It’s only when I’ve pressed a towel to my eyes do I even try to speak.

  “Well, there goes Wine Wednesday,” I attempt to joke. “That wasn’t funny, was it?”

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful this child is going to be?” Heath gushes.

  “She’s not there yet, Heath. Give her a second.”

  Pulling the lavender cloth from my face, I look between my two best friends. “This is either a monumental fuck-up or the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m not sure which.”

  I do know. I can feel it creeping into my heart, twisting itself around hopes and dreams that have scattered through my soul and binding them together. What comes with that? Blinding fear.

  A family with a man like Ford is every woman’s fantasy. Maybe I didn’t want it now if I had the choice. Maybe I needed more time to get there. But the concept is something that has been the pinnacle of my wish-list for almost a decade, a pipedream I thought was unattainable. What happens if it gets ruined? What if it doesn’t work out? What if—

  “Easy,” Violet laughs, bumping me with her hip. “I don’t know where you just checked out to, but I’m going to need you to come back.”

  “I’m afraid to tell him.”

  “Why? He’s going to be over the moon!” Violet looks at me like I’m crazy. “I kinda want to watch him find out.”

  The faces she makes usually make me laugh, but it doesn’t even register now.

  “What if I tell him . . . what if that’s like jinxing it or something?” I wipe my eyes. “What if he comes at me like I know he will, wanting to put some plan into place to do everything the right way, and I . . .” I close my eyes, a sudden dizziness rocking me.

  “You don’t want to?” Heath crooks a brow. “I’d prepare myself for him going off the deep end in the sexiest way, my friend.”

  My phone dings in Heath’s hand. He looks at it and then up to me. “You’d be smart to call your baby daddy back or it appears he’ll be showing up here.”

  “What did he say?” I groan.

  “The text reads, ‘Either call me back or I’m coming to see you. I need to know you’re okay. You have ten minutes, babe.’ He called you ‘babe,’” Heath gushes.

  I roll my eyes. “Tell him . . . tell him I’m going into a meeting and I’ll call him in a little bit.”

  “So don’t say congratulations or anything?”

  “Heath, don’t you even joke about this!” I say, springing to my feet. My stomach flip-flops and I flash a look at Violet. “This sickness isn’t going away, is it?”

  She laughs, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “Not for nine months, friend.”

  Ford

  “NO, I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING stupid,” I sigh, pouring a glass of sweet tea. “You’d have been proud.”

  “Let’s not get crazy,” Mallory huffs through the phone. “You had to have done something to make her balk.”

  “Why is it always the guy’s fault? Why can’t it just be something in her head that caused this?”

  “Because I live in reality.”

  Sighing, I try to get the edge off the ball of anxiety I’m dealing with. I might have been able to manage giving her actual space had she not gotten sick. I may have even been able to deal with just checking on her once or twice if I didn’t know something was actually wrong. Without Heath, I probably wouldn’t know.

  Luckily for me, he gave me a heads-up this morning when I called her phone. Now I wait for her to show up at my house like she promised in a text an hour ago.

  “She wasn’t at yoga today,” Mallory mentions.

  “She’s supposed to be here any minute. She’s sick. Her dad is too. I swung by there this afternoon to check on him,” I add quickly.

  “I didn’t realize you were so close with her dad.”

  “He likes me,” I shrug before taking a drink of the tea. I think back to our conversation about his favorite fishing holes and the map he tried to make me to find the biggest ginseng patch in Georgia. “They don’t make them like him anymore.”

  The doorbell rings in the front hall and I put my drink down. “Hey, Ellie is here. I gotta go. Tell Graham I’ll call him later since you hogged the conversation.”

  “Will do. See ya, Ford.”

  Slipping my phone into my pocket, I jog to the front door. I don’t even look, but I should’ve. Maybe it would’ve prepared me for what I was going to see.

  Ellie is standing on the stoop, her face swollen and blotchy. Her eyes are glassy and it’s obvious she’s been crying. For a while. Not one or two tears, but enough to make the whites of her eyes almost pink.

  “What’s wrong?” I take her hand and pull her inside, positioning her under the chandelier so I can get a better look at her. “Are you okay? What happened?”

  She seems unharmed. Physically, anyway. I don’t know what to do as her bottom lip starts to tremble, so I pull her into a hug.

  “Did someone hurt you? Is your dad okay?”

  She nods against my shirt. I pull her in tighter, my heart in my throat. “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

  “I need to talk to you.”

  Her face is pressed against me, the words muffled, and I can barely make them out. She’s stiff at first, as if she doesn’t want held. But after a few seconds, her hands are dipping beneath my shirt and lying flat against my back.

  “Ellie, I need you to explain this.”

  Her back begins to shake. The sound of muted sobs slips through her efforts to contain them. The combination causes my heart to lodge in my throat, adrenaline to spike.

  I guide her backwards so I can see her face. She has red lines in her skin, her lips plumped from crying, I guess. Her hair is matted agai
nst her face. “What is going on?”

  She still refuses to say anything, just looks at me with tear-filled puppy dog eyes. I have to laugh or I’m going to lose my cool.

  “Come on.” I take her hand and lead her into the kitchen. I get her situated at the island and hand her a glass of tea. “Tea fixes everything. Or that’s what my mom says. I find it not to be true, but it’s the best I have off the cuff.”

  She laughs, blinking back tears. “Thank you.”

  Rifling through drawers, I locate a cloth and dampen it. When I turn to hand it to her, I see her watching me. There’s something in her eyes I can’t pinpoint. Whatever it is, it stops me in my tracks.

  “Babe, you’re going to have to start explaining this because I’m struggling to stay calm.”

  Her head nods back and forth and I can almost see the words stuck in her throat.

  “Is it your dad?”

  “No.” The word is strangled, thick in the air. She takes a shaky sip of the tea.

  “Halcyon?” I offer, getting exasperated.

  “No.”

  “Ellie,” I sigh, taking a deep breath, “I—”

  My phone rings in my pocket and with an irritated glance, I pull it out. “It’s Barrett. He can wait.”

  “Get it,” she says, her hand lying on the base of her throat. “Get it and give me a second, okay?”

  “You sure? I’m happy to send him to voicemail.”

  “Please get it.”

  “Yeah?” I say into the receiver.

  “Hey, Ford. You okay?” Barrett asks.

  “Fine. What’s up?”

  He starts in about his possible next political move. All I want to do is to tell him how much of a fuck I don’t give right now and turn back to Ellie. To what matters.

  Instead, I turn away from her so she doesn’t see the irritation in my eyes. I know that won’t help her tell me what’s happened. And I need to know. Now.

  “Hey, Barrett,” I say, rounding the corner into the dining room. “I don’t mean to be a dick, but I have my hands full right now with some things, and I need to call you back.”

  “No problem,” he says. “Take care of you first. Talk to you soon, man.”

  “See ya.”

  Ending the call, I turn the corner.

  She’s gone.

  “Damn it, Ellie!”

  My truck roars to life as her phone goes to voicemail again. I have no idea where she went or why or what in the hell has happened to make her this shaken up.

  I shouldn’t have turned my back. I should’ve given her all my attention.

  With one hand on the wheel and the other swiping across my contacts list, I call Violet. She picks up as the wheels hit the street.

  “Hello?”

  “Violet, it’s Ford. Where’s Ellie?”

  “She’s with you, isn’t she?” There’s a panic in her voice that almost sends me over the edge.

  “No, she’s not. She was and just walked out. She was a mess when she got there and I have no idea why.”

  “Where are you?”

  “On the road. I’m . . . I don’t even know where I’m going, Violet. I just need to find her.”

  A soft laugh wafts through the phone. I hear her click me to speakerphone. “First of all, calm down. Okay?”

  “Calm down? And why are you laughing?” I boom. “This is not funny.”

  “No, it’s not,” she says. “But trust me when I tell you that it’s going to be all right.”

  “So you know what she was upset about?” I ask, re-gripping the wheel.

  “Yes.”

  My palm smacks off the console. “Great. Then tell me or tell me where to find her because I’m a nervous fucking wreck.”

  There’s an extended silence that does nothing for my anxiety as I pull out onto the road taking me into Savannah. “Violet?”

  “Okay. She’s headed home. She just sent me a text.”

  I blow a U-turn in the middle of the highway, my tires squealing, and go the other direction.

  “What the hell was that?” she shrieks.

  “I had to go the other way.”

  “Nice.”

  I crack a turn to the south, my headlights bouncing off the street signs along the road. My heart is going even faster than my truck, neither of which are safe.

  Ellie

  MY HOUSE SEEMS SO COLD. And empty. I turn on every light I pass in hopes it will make me feel less alone.

  I should’ve told him. I should’ve and I was wrong not to, and I’m sure he’s upset I didn’t.

  I’m such a coward.

  “Ellie?” Violet’s voice rings down the hall. “Where are you? You have this place lit up like a Christmas tree!”

  “In the kitchen.”

  I hear her come down the hall. “There you are.” She tries not to smile, but I can see it coming. “What the hell happened?”

  “I just needed you to come back,” I say, referring to the text I sent her. “I didn’t tell him. I couldn’t.”

  Just thinking about it sends my pulse rate spiraling upwards.

  “I need a drink,” I say, leaping to my feet. “Shit! I can’t have one.”

  The tears are back again, not as much from the lack of wine in my new life, but more for all the changes I’m going to be encountering. The fear of the unknown, as my dad would say. I hate the unknown.

  Violet laughs. “You can’t have wine. Or caffeine. Or some cheeses and fish.”

  I must give her the saddest look ever because her laughs just get louder. Before I can tell her to fuck right off, the doorbell rings.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Three times. All in a space of probably two seconds.

  My eyes go wide. “He found me quick.”

  “Well . . .” She sticks her hands in her pockets.

  “You told him! You rat!”

  “He called me, Ellie. What did you want me to do? Lie to him?”

  “That’s precisely what I wanted you to do! Give me some time. Cover for me.”

  “Sorry. Not really, but you know what I mean,” she laughs. “Should I answer the door?”

  I don’t know what to say, so I just let out a low-key wail.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” She disappears down the hallway she just came through. My legs shake as I sit down, my hands wringing together.

  He barges through the doorway before Violet could’ve had time to open it. “Seriously?” He looks at me with narrowed eyes.

  “What?” I ask, the word sounding even more innocent than I thought I could muster.

  “You don’t get to just walk out like that.”

  “I needed some space.”

  He chuckles angrily. “You could’ve gone into the bathroom. The bedroom. Sat in your fucking car in the driveway, Ellie. But you don’t show up at my house upset and then disappear.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He looks at the ceiling and breathes, the tension in his shoulders settling only a little. “What the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What do I mean? You’re really asking me that?”

  I don’t move. I just focus on breathing.

  “Why are you crying?” he asks, the question too composed. He’s on the brink of anger, I can see it. Hear it. Feel it.

  “Because of you.”

  “Because of me?” he almost booms. “You’re crying because of me? I haven’t even fucking talked to you in what feels like days because you need space. Well, you know what, fuck your space.”

  I see Violet hidden in the darkness of the hallway, letting me know she’s still around if I need her. Suddenly, I wish she weren’t. I wish it was just Ford and I.

  “Ford, I’m sorry.”

  “Me too. I should’ve put my foot down when you started this bullshit and gotten to the bottom of it then.” He pulls out a chair but doesn’t sit. “What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?”

  “Violet is here,” I say, like that explains everything
. Of course it doesn’t and he gives me a look telling me just that.

  “Violet?” he calls, looking at me. “Will you leave? Please?”

  I glance around him and make eye contact with her. She indicates she’ll be outside until she hears from me and then the door closes softly.

  That’s followed by a stream of tears.

  “Tell me how to fix you,” he says quietly. “Tell me what I need to do. I hate this, Ellie. I hate it.”

  “You can’t fix this. There is no fixing this.”

  He marches in a circle, running his hands down his face. I watch his body move, the concern on his face, the palpable misery he’s in because he’s worried about me.

  “Answer a question for me,” I say. “What did Barrett want?”

  “What’s that have to do with you?”

  Everything. “Just answer me. Please.”

  “I honestly don’t know because I wanted to talk to you. But I’m guessing it has something to do with his campaign.”

  “So he’s running?”

  “I think so.”

  Squeezing my eyes closed, I say a silent prayer that someone is watching over me.

  “Ford,” I say, clearing my throat. “I have to tell you something.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want you to sit down.”

  He heaves a breath but does as instructed. His top button is undone on his work shirt, his tie and jacket both long gone. The blonde spikes of his hair are unruly, and I can see that he’s been running his hand through it.

  I wonder what it would look like in the middle of the night after he’s gotten no sleep because of a crying baby. What his arms would look like, so big and strong, with an infant curled up in the crook of his elbow.

  “You can tell me anything,” he says right before I start to speak. “I mean it. Anything.”

  “Okay.” I take a deep breath and just spill it. “I’m going to have a baby.”

  His face slowly changes as the words seep into his brain. His brows pull together, his mouth opening, then closing. His head cocking to the side as his eyes go wide inch-by-inch.

  He shakes his head. “What did you say?”

  “I said,” I whisper, “that I . . . we . . . are having a baby.”