Push

22. She Didn't Run Away

GWEN

I popped my sunglasses on my head and turned the stroller down another bend in the path. No idea why I thought that would help me find Toby. Now I couldn't see shit. I squinted to blot out the afternoon sun, but the only thing around me was endless green.

Toby's message was vague—I'm near the water thingie—and the photo of random trees and grass that followed wasn't helpful, either. But the walk was pleasant. Not too hot. Bit of a breeze. It was good to have an excuse to get outside and escape the restless itch of being chained to the house.

"Gwen!"

My head twisted.

Toby.

How did I miss him? He was there clearer than the afternoon sun stinging my eyes. His hand was stuck up in a wave, and he was kneeling on a red plaid rug. A picnic basket was on the grass next to him. He could beam that big smile. He could even look as handsome and golden as he pleased in his white t-shirt and the shorts I bought him last Christmas. I paid him no attention at all. My heart was a cold lump of ice.

I wheeled the stroller over the grass, careful to slow for the bumps as I passed the pond. It was just one of those things you had to do to keep a baby sleeping.

Still all smiles, Toby popped to his feet. "You came!"

I nodded to say hello before I flipped the stroller's brakes with the toe of my sneaker. I wasn't ready to match his goofball smile. This whole catch-up felt a bit uncomfortable and tense and... strange.

I was never sure about meeting up. Sure, I asked Toby to come back to the house. We were long overdue for a talk. The talk. But being friendly or acting like a couple out in public—that didn't feel right. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Toby peeked over my shoulder into the stroller. Noah's tiny fists were stretched above his head, and the perfect plump of his mouth had dropped open to huff sleepy breaths.

Toby's smile widened. "Geez, NoBo's cute, huh? How'd we make him?" He bent down and rested a gentle touch on Noah's round belly. "Hey, little dude." Toby straightened back up, and his hand curled around my shoulder. "Missed you, doll."

I slid a glance from the corner of my eye. Toby's lips headed for my cheek. It was an instinct for him—an affectionate afterthought I used to welcome with a smile—but I jerked back. I wasn't ready for kisses, either. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Toby's smile disappeared. "Sorry," he muttered.

His hand fell from my shoulder, and he shuffled back to the rug to unpack the picnic basket. Out came a few Tupperware containers stuffed with food and—God help me—a bottle of that non-alcoholic prosecco. I'd rather sip the pond water.

I forced a smile. I agreed to come. I needed to make some sort of effort so this wouldn't be the most awkward afternoon in history.

"So, what's all this?" I asked him. "You organized a picnic?"

"Yeah. You used to like outdoor time after being cooped up in the office all week." He shrugged. "Thought it might be nice."

"It looks like you've gone to a lot of trouble." It really did. I could have twisted the knife and reminded Toby he'd done nothing that thoughtful in months. I didn't.

"It's no trouble," he said. "What else am I doing?"

My gaze fell on Toby's hand. The skin over his knuckles was broken and red. I frowned. What else, indeed.

"Maybe you're planning to colonize Mars," I joked. "You've packed enough food."

He laughed. "I'll make Mars tomorrow's top agenda item. Until I blast off, you want to sit down?" He patted the rug beside him, but his smile was cautious. "I don't want you running away too soon."