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“That’s very true, but I can assure you that it’s true for everyone, everywhere.”
I pondered her very wise and eloquent statement. The woman could say so much with such few words. How could any of us predict the future or know what we could or would be doing? It’s impossible to know. “Yeah, I suppose,” I said finally.
“And Ethan? You haven’t said much about what he wants.”
I thought about him and what he might be doing right now. Working hard to keep all those celebrities safe at the Olympics, barking orders in meetings, on conference calls barking more orders, and stressing. I worried about him even though he wouldn’t hear word one from me about it. He just spread himself a little thinner and never complained. But his nightmares keep coming, don’t they?
“Ahh, Ethan is very matter-of-fact about this. He never showed me anything but support from the first moment. He didn’t seemed scared or trapped or . . . anything like that. I’ll be honest, I expected him to feel that way. We haven’t known each other that long, and most men would want to run hard and fast in the other direction when faced with an unplanned pregnancy, but not him.” I shook my head at her. “He was adamant we not terminate. He said he couldn’t do it. That me and our baby are his priority now.”
She smiled again. “He sounds like he’s thrilled, and that must give you some feelings of security.”
“It does. He wants to get married as soon as we can organize it after the Olympics are finished. He really wants an announcement to go out about an engagement.” I looked down at my lap. “I’ve been holding off on that part, and he’s not happy with me about it.”
She wrote something down and asked her next question without looking up. “Why do you think you are resistant to an engagement announcement?”
“Oh, God . . . I don’t know. The only way I can describe it is a feeling of helplessness, a lack of control in my life. It’s like I’m being swept along in a current. I’m not struggling to keep afloat or in danger of drowning, but I cannot get out of it. The current pulls me along and takes me places I never thought I would go.” I started to feel a little emotional and wished I hadn’t said anything to her, but it was too late. The confessions were starting to pour out of me now. “I can’t go back to the beginning. I can only go forward, whether I want to or not.”
“Do you want to get out?” Dr. Roswell offered up options, just like I knew she would. “Because you don’t have to have a baby, or get engaged, or married, or any of it. You know that, Brynne.”
I shook my head, looking down at my belly. I thought about what we had created and felt guilty for even voicing my worries. “I don’t want to get out. I love Ethan. He tells me he loves me all the time. And I need him . . . now.”
“Brynne, do you realize what you just said?”
I looked up into her smiling eyes and knew I was going to spill the rest.
“I need Ethan. I need him for everything. I need him in order to be happy, and to be the father of this baby we made, and to love me and care for me . . .” My voice trailed off to a whimper that sounded so pathetic I loathed myself in that moment.
Dr. Roswell spoke so softly: “That’s very scary, isn’t it?”
The tears started coming and I reached for a tissue. “Yeah,” I sobbed, taking a moment to get the next part out, “I need him so badly . . . and it makes me utterly vulnerable . . . and what will I do if some day he decides he doesn’t want me anymore?”
“It’s called trust, Brynne, and it is by far the hardest gift to give away.”
She was right about that.
? Dinner alone pretty much sucked. I wouldn’t complain to Ethan, though. I understood how busy he was at work and there had been lots of evening events for him lately. I cleaned up from my vegetable soup and French bread dinner, which so far was staying put in my stomach. Thank God for the anti-nausea medication or I was sure I’d be dead by then. The vomiting seemed to be behind me for the most part, if I kept to very simple food and took the meds regularly. Both Freddy and Dr. Burnsley said I had something called hyperemesis gravidarum, or in plain English, severe morning sickness. In my case it started as evening sickness and serious dehydration, and could eventually cause malnutrition if left untreated. Lovely. So suffice it to say, I was trying my best to eat.
I’d gotten a text from Ethan about an hour earlier telling me he would be home late and eating dinner at his office. I understood, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. The Olympics were huge and it was exciting as the buildup to the opening ceremonies grew. I really did understand the demands Ethan was under at work, and it made me feel better to know that he hated it as much as I did, if not more. He told me all the time how much he wished he could just stay in for one of my home-cooked dinners and cuddle in front of the television together and have sex for dessert.
Yeah, me too.
I was a wreck emotionally and I knew it. I was lonely, and hormonal, and far too needy at the moment. I hated feeling needy.
I looked longingly over at the Miele coffeemaker, which had to be worth more than my boot collection, and sulked as I wiped down the granite worktop. No good coffee for the next seven months was gonna suck about as much as the lonely dinner did tonight. I didn’t do decaf and figured torturing myself with only one cup a day wasn’t worth the hassle.
I was finding my inner Zen and gaining a close personal relationship with herbal teas instead. Raspberry and Tangerine Zinger had been pleasant surprises, I must admit. I made a cup of the Raspberry Zinger and called Benny.
“Hello, my lovely darling.”
“I miss you. What are you up to tonight?” I asked, hoping I didn’t sound too pathetic.
“Ricardo’s here and we’re just done with dinner.”
“Ahhh, well, why did you even answer the phone? You’re otherwise busy. Sorry for interrupting, I just wanted to give you a drive-by love blast.”
“No, no, no, my sweet. Not so fast. What is going on with you?” Ben was without a doubt the most emotionally intuitive man on the planet. He could sniff out the smallest innuendo and go wild with possible scenarios. I’d seen him in action enough to know.
“Nothing is going on with me,” I lied. “You’re busy and have company. Call me tomorrow, okay?”
