While He Built Her Home novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: Bring the Receipt

We closed at six, and the shop was a wreck of tissue paper and empty cider cups.

Phoebe counted the till twice.

She announced that we had made more in one day than in the last six weeks on Alder Street.

I sat down on an upturned crate and laughed until I had to hold my side.

Then the laugh turned, and I put my hand over my eyes.

"Okay," Phoebe said.

She came over and sat on the floor next to me, and she did not say anything wise.

She just handed me the last lemon cookie.

At nine she locked the front door behind me and drove away.

Clayton was waiting on the curb in his truck.

"I'm taking you home," he said.

"I have a car."

"I'm following it, then."

"Clayton."

"You haven't eaten anything but sugar all day."

"I'm fine."

"I'd like to see you get in your own front door."

I let him.

He followed me home and pulled up at the curb when I parked.

He left his headlights on.

The house was dark.

The calendar was still on the kitchen island where I'd left it, folded in half.

I stood in the driveway and looked at it through the window.

Then I walked back down to his truck and knocked on the glass.

He rolled it down.

"I need to tell you one more thing," I said. "Before tomorrow. So nobody surprises you."

"Okay."

"I'm pregnant."

He didn't move.

He had his hand on the steering wheel, and I watched his knuckles go pale and then ease.

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