The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight(26)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith

Hadley certainly is, anyway.

She’s still perched there like that, leaning against the doorframe and glaring at the stairs, when she hears footsteps around the corner, and the deep sound of men laughing. She darts down the hall a little ways so that it won’t look as if she’s been doing precisely what she’s been doing, and is there examining her fingernails with what she hopes is a look of great nonchalance when Dad appears alongside the minister.

“Hadley,” he says, clapping a hand on her shoulder and addressing her as if they see each other every day. “I want you to meet Reverend Walker.”

“Nice to meet you, dear,” the elderly man says, taking her hand and then turning back to Dad. “I’ll see you at the reception, Andrew. Congratulations again.”

“Thanks so much, Reverend,” he says, and then the two of them are left there to watch as the minister hobbles off again, his black robes trailing behind him like a cape.

When he’s disappeared around the corner, Dad turns back to Hadley with a grin.

“It’s good to see you, kiddo,” he says, and Hadley feels her smile wobble and then fall. She glances over at the basement door, and those two words go skidding through her head again.

Nine months.

Dad is standing close enough that she can smell his aftershave, minty and sharp, and the rush of memories it brings makes her heart quicken. He’s looking at her like he’s waiting for something—for what?—as if she should be the one to begin this charade, crack open her heart and spill it right there at his feet.

As if she’s the one with secrets to tell.

She’s spent so much time avoiding him, so much effort trying to cut him out of her life—as if it were that easy, as if he were as insubstantial as a paper doll—and now it turns out he’s the one who’s been keeping something from her.

“Congrats,” Hadley croaks, submitting to a somewhat stilted hug, which ends up as more of a pat on the back than anything else.

Dad steps away awkwardly. “I’m glad you made it.”

“Me, too,” she says. “It was nice.”

“Charlotte’s excited to meet you,” he says, and Hadley bristles.

“Great,” she manages to say.

Dad gives her a hopeful smile. “I think you two will get on brilliantly.”

“Great,” she says again.

He clears his throat and fidgets with his bow tie, looking stiff and uncomfortable, though whether it’s the tux or the situation, Hadley isn’t sure.

“Listen,” he says. “I’m actually glad I found you alone. There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

Hadley stands up a bit straighter, steeling herself as if to absorb a great impact. She doesn’t have time to be relieved that he’s actually going to tell her after all; she’s so busy working out how to react to the news of the baby—sullen silence? fake surprise? shocked disbelief?—that her face is wiped clean as a chalkboard when he finally delivers the blow.

“Charlotte was really hoping we’d do a father-daughter dance at the reception,” he says, and Hadley—somehow more stunned by this than by the far more shattering news she’d been prepared for—simply stares at him.

Dad holds up his hands. “I know, I know,” he says. “I told her you’d hate it, that there’s no way you’d want to be out there in front of everyone with your old man….” He trails off, obviously waiting for Hadley to jump in.

“I’m not much of a dancer,” she says eventually.

“I know,” he says, grinning. “Neither am I. But it’s Charlotte’s day, and it seems really important to her, and…”

“Fine,” Hadley says, blinking hard.

“Fine?”

“Fine.”

“Well, great,” he says, sounding genuinely surprised. He rocks back on his heels, beaming at this unexpected victory. “Charlotte will be thrilled.”

“I’m glad,” Hadley says, unable to hide the note of bitterness in her voice. All of a sudden she feels hollowed out, no longer in the mood to fight. She asked for this, after all. She wanted nothing to do with his new life, and now here he is, starting it without her.

But it isn’t just about Charlotte anymore. In nine months, he’ll have a new baby, too, maybe even another daughter.

And he hadn’t even bothered to tell her.

She’s stung by this in the same place that had been hurt by his leaving, the same tender spot that had ached when she’d first heard about Charlotte. But this time, almost without realizing, Hadley finds herself leaning into it rather than away.

After all, it’s one thing to run away when someone’s chasing you.

It’s entirely another to be running all alone.

10

8:17 AM Eastern Standard Time

1:17 PM Greenwich Mean Time

Late last night, as she and Oliver had shared a pack of tiny pretzels on the plane, he’d been quiet, studying her profile for so long without speaking that she’d finally turned to face him.

“What?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

She frowned. “That’s a question you ask a four-year-old.”

“Not necessarily,” he said. “Everyone has to be something.”

“What do you want to be?”

He shrugged. “I asked you first.”

“An astronaut,” she said. “A ballerina.”

“Seriously.”

“You don’t think I could be an astronaut?”

“You could be the first ballerina on the moon.”

“I guess I’ve still got some time to figure it out.”

“That’s true,” he said.

“And you?” she asked, expecting another sarcastic answer, some invented profession having to do with his mysterious research project.

“I don’t know, either,” he said quietly. “Certainly not a lawyer, anyway.”

Hadley raised her eyebrows. “Is that what your dad does?”

But he didn’t answer; he only glared harder at the pretzel in his hand. “Never mind all this,” he said after a moment. “Who wants to think about the future, anyway?”

“Not me,” she said. “I can hardly stand to think of the next few hours, much less the next few years.”

“That’s why flying’s so great,” he said. “You’re stuck where you are. You’ve got no choice in the matter.”