Page 45 of Bluebell Promises

It was over.

For the next eight years, Ben lived alone in Boston. He had a few girlfriends here and there, but he could never get over the heartbreak of losing his son, a boy who was not legally or genetically his son, but his son nonetheless.

Eventually, he returned to Bluebell Cove. But his heart was still broken from the shock.

“So you see,” Ben explained to Wren so many years later. Wren’s eyes were wet with tears of understanding. “Nate would be fourteen years old now. And I don’t know anything about him. I don’t know what foods he likes, or how he’s doing in school, or what he wants to be when he grows up. If he saw me on the street, he probably wouldn’t recognize me. Maybe I wouldn’t recognize him, either.”

By the end of his story, both of Wren’s hands were in his, warm and soft. Pierre the dog stood at their feet, peering up at them curiously, as though he could feel the energy that passed between them.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Wren whispered. “Not again. I promise you that.”

23

On Halloween, all the children of Bluebell Cove swarmed the sidewalks, dressed in costumes and eager for candy. Wren was over at the Harper house, dressed as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, her pregnant stomach shooting out of the blue-and-white checkered dress. Ben, who was, of course, dressed as the Scarecrow, held her hand where they sat on the sofa and nibbled on a mini chocolate bar. Wren felt uniquely and supremely happy. When she’d pictured herself happily in love and pregnant, she hadn’t imagined it could be this good—especially not after everything that had happened back in Greece.

Her sisters and their partners had dressed up, too. Ivy was dressed as a flower, and Elliott was dressed as Edward Scissorhands, with cardboard fake scissors protruding from his hands. “It’s a couple’s costume!” Ivy announced, even though it was pretty clear to everyone that she’d never seen the film. She’d never liked anything too “weird,” although Elliott continued to try to get her into things outside of her wheelhouse.

Celia and Landon had decided to go as two characters from Pulp Fiction, the ones played by Uma Thurman and John Travolta. They kept doing that dance they do in the film and cackling. Juliet and Theo had come as Simone de Beauvoir and Jean-Paul Sartre, which just meant they’d worn vintage outfits that could have put them in France in the 1920s.

All of the kids were either out with friends or away at college. Wine—both nonalcoholic and regular—flowed. Wren usually stuck to tea and water, but she allowed herself a little bit of nonalcoholic champagne, and the bubbles felt joyful and celebratory.

When the next round of trick-or-treaters came, Wren hauled herself up and waddled to the front door, where she passed out mini chocolate bars and told the kids how good they looked. She wondered how soon her own baby would be able to go trick-or-treating. Wren questioned if she and Ben would take her baby, holding her hand as they guided her through the dark streets, protecting her from scarily dressed older kids. She wondered if Ben would even still be around, then.

It had only been a month since she and Ben had officially begun dating. She knew dating a pregnant woman was complicated for him, but he didn’t show it. He cooked her dinners, rubbed her feet, asked her questions about her pregnancy, and made sure she knew that he could take her to whatever appointments she had, whenever she needed him to. She knew he wanted to be involved, that he’d longed to be a father ever since he’d been forced out of the role.

It boggled her mind to think of Rina, who’d yanked Nate away from the only father he’d ever known. What kind of person did that?

“Who wants nachos?” Ivy called from the kitchen.

Wren, Juliet, and Celia hurried in to help Ivy get the plates ready, leaving the men in the living room. One of them turned on a sports station, which demanded a few more minutes of sports-free peace in the kitchen from the Harper sisters. Wren didn’t have time for sports. She’d never cared for them, and being pregnant just made her more aware of everything she didn’t truly care about.

As Ivy poured melted cheese over the crispy nachos, she eyed Wren conspiratorially and said, “You and Ben are adorable, Wrennie.”

“Totally adorable!” Juliet echoed, throwing both of her hands over her chest.

Wren rolled her eyes. “We’re just seeing where things go.” This, of course, was the understatement of the century.

Celia sat at the kitchen table and poured herself an extra helping of wine. “Landon thinks he’s pretty serious about you,” she said.

Juliet and Ivy sat down, too, and beckoned for Wren to join them. Wren did, thinking for the briefest of moments of their mother, sitting at this very table so many years ago. She wondered what her mother would say about Ben, what advice she would give. Would she tell Wren that Ben was going to keep her in Bluebell Cove longer than she wanted to be here? Or would she tell Wren, Don’t be antsy like me; learn how to be at home in your body and your soul.

With her sisters, Wren hadn’t been entirely candid about how she and Ben had gotten together. Rather, she’d let her sisters discover the truth of their romance organically and through Bluebell Cove gossip. She knew this frustrated Ivy to no end. Several people had spotted them holding hands at the farmers’ market and walking along the cove. Several more had caught them kissing outside of Theo and Juliet’s restaurant.

They certainly weren’t being private about it.

News of Wren’s pregnancy was out in the open, too. Wren knew that everyone thought it was quite scandalous and that Ben was a “very good man” for stepping in when “Wren needed him most.” Ben truly was a good man, but that didn’t mean Wren needed him. She wanted him in her life, which was entirely different from needing him.

“Come on, Wrennie,” Juliet begged. “Tell us more about what’s going on between you two!”

Wren smiled. “It’s just nice.” She shrugged. “It’s nicer than I ever could have imagined it. I already feel like maybe I could fall in love with him.”

The truth was, she’d already told him she loved him. But her sisters didn’t need to know that yet.

In the next room, the men howled about something they saw on the sports channel. Ivy stretched her arms over her head and announced that trick-or-treating was already done for the night. “Another year gone,” she said sadly, before reaching for a chip and crunching down.

It was then that Wren felt Celia’s eyes upon her. “What’s up?” she asked, sensing something amiss.

Celia pressed her lips into a line. She was still wearing her Pulp Fiction wig, and it made her look pale and harrowing. “I don’t know how to tell you this. But I tracked them down. Angelos’s parents.”