After careful deliberation, Hazel agrees to partner with Charles in Peak Adventures. They meet at their new office space on Sunday morning for a day of painting. Although he isn’t scheduled to close on the building until late June, the current owner has offered to rent to Charles so he can make improvements. They start in the main room and work their way to the outer offices, covering the drab gray walls in crisp white linen.
While they work, Charles talks animatedly about the kayaks, paddleboards, and rafts he’s ordered. “Bikes are next. I’m meeting with reps from a couple of different brands this week. We’ll start with a small fleet and buy more as we grow.”
Hazel dips her roller into the paint and drags it down the wall. “This is all so exciting, I can hardly stand it. Laney has hired a new shop assistant, a spunky young woman who just graduated from college. Skye is an art major. Apparently, very creative. After we train her, I should have more time to help you get organized.”
Charles smiles over at her. “I’ll take all the help I can get. Oh! I forgot to tell you. The house officially goes on the market on Tuesday. Jamie already has two days of showings booked.”
“That’s excellent news.” As much as Hazel misses her farmhouse, she’s relieved to be leaving that part of her life in the rearview mirror.
She sets down her paint roller and brushes the hair out of her face with the back of her hand. “I’m parched. I wish I’d thought to bring some water.”
“I packed a cooler. It’s on the back porch.” When she returns with the bottled water, Charles asks, “Are you okay? You look a little peaked.”
“I’m not a hundred percent, honestly. Chef Michael gave Laney and me a to-go box of wedding food yesterday. I think maybe I ate a bad oyster or something.”
Charles knit his brows. “I totally understand if you don’t feel like painting.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says. But at lunchtime, when Charles hands her a tuna salad sandwich, a wave of nausea sends her running to the restroom where she vomits the meager contents of her stomach.
She returns to the picnic table outside. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. You know how much I love tuna salad.”
“Try these,” Charles says, handing her a small bag of chips and a can of ginger ale.
“Thanks.” The combination of salt and carbonation settles her stomach, and she devours two bags of chips.
After lunch, Hazel and Charles go to separate offices to paint. When they take a break midafternoon, Charles’s jovial mood from earlier has vanished.
“What’s wrong? You seemed so happy earlier.”
“My emotions come in waves. All the change I’m experiencing overwhelms me sometimes.”
“I know that feeling, Charles. I try not to think about everything at once. Worrying about one problem at a time makes it seem more manageable.”
“That makes sense.” He pulls a beer out of the cooler. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. But I’ll have another ginger ale if you’ve got one.”
“No more ginger ale.” Digging through the drinks, he holds out a green can. “How about a lime LaCroix?”
“That’ll work. Can we go outside? I could use a break from the paint fumes,” Hazel says, waving a hand in front of her nose.
She follows him out the back door, and they sit down on the steps, watching a storm system build in from the west.
Charles pops the top on his beer and takes a sip. “I can’t explain this sadness that overcomes me sometimes. I’m thrilled about the business and relieved I no longer have to pretend to be someone I’m not.”
“Maybe you’re missing Stuart?”
Charles leans into her. “I miss you more.”
She rests her head on his shoulder. “I miss us, the people we were when we first met. We got lost along the way, but we’re finding our way back to our true selves.”
“Well said. I hope we never lose sight of those selves again.” Charles snickers. “I certainly don’t miss Stuart’s drama. I’m grateful he’s gone, but I admit I’m lonely.”
“Maybe you should look for someone new, someone who isn’t married with a family.” As painful as it is to admit, Hazel believes that she and Charles will one day find new significant others.
Charles sits up straight. “I’m not that lonely. Your friendship is all I need at the moment.”
“Well, you’ve got it. Now that your secret is out in the open, we can work toward building a new friendship. Somehow, our mutual respect for one another appears to have survived our breakup.”
Charles pulls his head back to get a better look at her face. “You mean, your respect for me didn’t change when you found out I’m gay?”
“Not at all. If anything, I respect you for trying to please your father by living a straight life.” Hazel sips her drink. “For the longest time, I felt guilty that I was the one responsible for our failing marriage. I’m relieved to know it wasn’t just me, that you have flaws as well.”
“I’m a deeply flawed man, Hazel. I will always be here to share your burdens, no matter how great or small,” he says in a genuine tone.
“That goes ditto for me.”
“Most couples hate each other when their marriage ends. Do you think it’s strange how quickly we got over our breakup?”
“Not at all,” Hazel says. “I think it speaks to the strength of our friendship.”
Charles chugs the rest of his beer and crumples up his empty can. “Is there anything new on the adoption front?”
“Not really. I’m having a difficult time wrapping my mind around the idea of adopting a foster child. For so long, I have set my heart on having my own baby. I’m trying to summon the courage to schedule an appointment with a fertility specialist to discuss artificial insemination.”
“Whoa. That would be a big move.” Charles hangs his head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you your baby, Hazel.”
“It’s not your fault. It just wasn’t meant to be for us.” She stands and pulls him to his feet. “Let’s finish up before the storm sets in.”
When she returns to painting, Hazel’s mind wanders, and she tries to imagine what type of man she would pick as a sperm donor for her child. Would she be more concerned with looks or brains? Perhaps she’ll find a man who has both. The sperm donor’s genetics don’t really matter to Hazel. As long as she can see something of herself in her baby.
* * *
Rain is coming down in sheets when Hazel arrives back at her apartment around five o’clock. Exhausted, she curls up on the sofa with a fake fur blanket and falls into a deep sleep. She wakes two hours later to a loud clap of thunder. She’d been dreaming about babies. In her dream, she was nine months pregnant and stranded in the middle of nowhere with thunderstorms threatening from every direction. A truck with tinted windows pulls up alongside her and the passenger window rolls down. From behind the steering wheel, Davis says, “Get in, babe. We can’t let my baby get wet.”
A lightbulb goes off in her head, and she sits bolt upright on the sofa. So that explains the nausea and fatigue.
Hazel darts up the stairs to the spare bedroom, where she stored some of her personal items from the farmhouse. Tearing open a box marked toiletries, she removes one of several pregnancy tests and takes it into the bathroom. Minutes later, she has her answer.
She punches the air and lets out a loud whoop. At long last, her prayers have been answered. No matter how she came to be pregnant, this baby growing inside of her is a gift from God. She doesn’t even care if her baby daddy is a skank and potential date rapist. For as long as she can remember, getting pregnant is all she’s wanted, and she’ll shower her baby with all the love she has to give.
Her heart races as she stands at the window and hugs her torso. This baby belongs to her. She won’t have to share custody with anyone. But what will she tell people when they ask who the baby daddy is? Will they automatically assume Charles is the father? Maybe she’ll tell them she had artificial insemination with a random donor’s sperm.
Hazel turns away from the window. She’s too excited to keep this to herself. Many times over the years, she’s longed to share news of her pregnancy with Charles. Even though their circumstances have vastly changed, he’s still the person she most wants to confide in.
Grabbing her raincoat and purse, she drives back to Peak Adventures. Gripping the wooden railing, she ascends the slippery metal stairs to the second-floor apartment.
All thoughts of her pregnancy vanish when Charles opens the door with swollen eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Oh. I thought you were Stuart,” he says in a meek voice.
“Why would Stuart be here? Isn’t he in Nashville?”
“He came to town for his last load of furniture. He asked if he could see me, and I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but he insisted. He’s on his way over.” Charles grabs her arm and pulls her inside. “Please stay. I can’t face him alone.”
Hazel isn’t prepared to witness an intimate moment between her soon-to-be ex-husband and his gay lover. “What are you so worried about?”
Charles rubs his eyes with his balled fists. “Stuart was going on about how much he misses me on the phone. He’ll try to rope me into a long-distance relationship. He can be very convincing, and I’m extremely vulnerable right now.”
Hazel’s heart goes out to him. So, this is how it’s been all these years. Stuart has used Charles as his puppet, his plaything, to satisfy his homosexual desires. “You deserve better, Charles. Remember, he chose his wife and children over you.”
A knock sounds at the door, and in a pleading tone like a lost little boy, Charles says, “Please, don’t leave me.”
“Fine. I’ll stay if you’re sure that’s what you want.”
He deflates with relief. “I’m positive.”
“What should I tell him?” Hazel asks, one hand on the doorknob.
“Whatever it takes to get him to leave me alone.” Charles’s face lights up. “I know! Tell him we’re working out our marriage.”
Hazel sucks in a breath. “I can do better than that,” she says, and swings open the door.
Stuart’s jaw goes slack at the sight of Charles’s wife in his apartment. “What’re you doing here?”
Hazel turns up her nose as her eyes travel up and down his body. “I should ask you the same thing. Charles doesn’t want to see you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Stuart says, pushing past her. He aims a thumb at Hazel. “Get rid of her so we can talk.”
Charles shakes his head. “She’s right. I don’t want to talk to you.”
Hazel tugs her phone free of her raincoat pocket and holds it up to Stuart’s face. “Say cheese! This time I’ll save you the embarrassment and send the pics directly to your wife. I’ll bet Bonnie doesn’t know you’re here. Or does she? Do you two have an open marriage now?”
When Stuart grabs at her phone, Hazel steps backward.
“You’re such a pain in the ass, Hazel. Charles is lucky to be rid of you.”
“Who says he’s rid of me?” She loops her arm through Charles’s. “Didn’t he tell you? After years of trying, I’m finally pregnant. You can be the first to congratulate us. We’re having a baby.”