CHAPTER 23
The Stalemate
Robyn
I’mon video call with Julian, phone propped up on my nightstand while I sit on my bed, folding the mountain of laundry I’ve been neglecting all week. It’s a queen-size bed in the center of the bedroom, parallel to floor-to-ceiling windows covered by curtains I keep drawn at night. When the weather’s nice, I love sitting on the armchair on the balcony and staring into the woods. It’s already pitch black even though it’s not even six, and my bedside lamp casts the whole room in a warm, golden glow.
On Julian’s end: chaos.
The unmistakable cry of a newborn cuts through the line—high-pitched, breathy, a fast, vibrating “Wah, wah, wah.” He’s holding his baby flush to his bare chest and swaying, but Milo’s not running out of air or energy anytime soon.
“He’s getting purple—what do I do?”
“Try holding him differently. Maybe that football hold we taught new moms?” I put the scrubs top I’m folding downand extend my arm. “You know? Baby’s body on your forearm”—I slide my right palm up my left forearm—“head sideways on your hand?” Julian mirrors what I’m doing, but it doesn’t help. “Or maybe feed him? Change him?” I pause, bunching up the shirt, trying to come up with something else. “Try any and all of those again?”
“Don’t stop!”
“What do you mean?” Now I’m trying to smooth out all the wrinkles I just created.
When I look back at the phone, Milo’s looking less purple and a more normal pissed-off red.
“Keep talking! I think he likes you!”
So I do. I ramble. Random quotes from research papers, medical-journal statistics, whatever my brain can grab. And slowly, surprisingly, the baby’s screams thin, wobble, and finally melt into soft, steady breaths.
“He’s out!” Julian whispers, and lets out an awe heavy sigh. “So, what’s new?”
“You didn’t tell me my ex was going to be my new neighbor. Didn’t think that deserved a heads-up?”
“Well, I asked if you were cool with Nate and I being friendly once you left, and you said you just didn’t want me telling you about him or telling him about you.”
“Then why is hehere?”
Julian exhales, repositions the baby, and sits down. “You made me promise we wouldn’t talk about Nate. So, without breaking that promise, all I can tell you is that he figured out you weren’t coming back.”
My hand stills again, fingers pinching fabric that no longer lines up. “And how would he have known if you didn’t tell him?”
“Anyone can tell from a mile away I’m bummed out that my best friend isn’t here while I figure out how having a baby turns me into a father.” His voice shifts—hurt edged withexhaustion. “I support you and I’m proud of you. I do, I am. But when you decided to stay longer… that was a bad day for me.” He exhales and briefly points the phone away from his face. When he points it back, there’s more of Milo’s head on the screen than Julian’s face.
I blink up at the ceiling, staring at a crack in the paint, a shadow that looks a lot like Lake Michigan from back home. I don’t regret leaving Nate. I don’t regret the breakup or putting my career first when everything else went to hell. This distance, beyond the miles, between Julian and I… Our chats skirt around how I haven’t visited. And I do regret that.
“Julian…” My voice comes out tentative because I am not used to being at odds with him. I pick up another piece of clothing and find a loose wool thread on the sleeve of the sweater. “Idowant to see you and meet Milo. You know that, right?”
On the screen, he shifts back in his chair. One hand drags over his jaw. “Yeah, I know that. But you don’t want it enough to push past your own hurt.”
Hurting Julian hurts me—he’sfamily. My hurt’s not more important than his. If he saw me, though, he’d know. How I’m hanging by a thread. I can change topics or hang up when he gets too close to seeing me on this phone. I can’t in person. He already has too much on his plate, and doesn’t need me adding “Robyn.”
“I’m going to, Julian.” I unfold the part of the sweater I just folded. “Ipromise,” I say, folding it again.
The line goes quiet. On his side, he exhales through his nose, glancing away from the screen, and I focus on straightening a stack of clothing that doesn’t need straightened.
I wish I could tell him how many times I’ve browsed Chicago flights. Every time, I chicken out at checkout, credit card information in and all, but I still can’t manage to click the purchase. At first, it was going back to where everythinghad happened, maybe even seeing Nate now that he and Julian are friends. Then, the reason shifted to how I’m barely holding on through sheer force of will and routine. And even in the last forty-eight hours, since I found out that Nate’s in Bend… I know I wouldn’t be able to Whac-A-Mole my way out of that one, not in front of Julian.
“You need to soon, Robyn.” He clears his throat, and Milo stirs, but Julian’s palm on his back helps him settle.
My breath catches, and I look down at my hands bunching a pair of shorts. What he doesn’t say is what hits. I smooth them in my lap, then fold them tighter than necessary.
“I can tell you’re anxious about Nate. He’s changed, though.” His eyes flick back up to the camera, hard and challenging. “And that’s as much as I can tell you without breaking the promise you wanted me to make.”
