“Oh shit,” O’Neil muttered.
“Excuse us,” I said, walking past the pair and Barry, anticipating that he’d follow me. I was right, because by the time I reached the garage, he’d caught up to me.
“Look, I know what you’re thinking?—”
“Oh yeah? Do tell.” I whirled on him, fists on my hips. I hated that I had to look so far up to glare at him.
Barry faltered.
“Actually, I don’t know what you’re thinking, only that you look very mad.”
“Yeah? Do I? And why do you think that is?”
“I wanted to do something nice for you—you’ve been working so hard, and the cabinets you wanted went on sale, and I just went for it.”
“You just went for it?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Yeah! And the guys were so stoked to help out, and I thought it would be great to knock out all of the demo this weekend so we could start getting the floors and cabinets and everything done next week.”
“And the bathroom?”
“That was your dad’s idea, said if we already had all those guys here, we might as well put them to work tearing apart the bathroom too.”
“And you didn’t think to swing this past me?!” I demanded. “Like, you thought this was something I just wanted to come home to without say?”
“I didn’t make any decisions outside of your house bible, everything down to the letter like you planned.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that!” I burst out, too loud. Barry looked startled and a bit chagrined. I think he knew he was in the wrong, but his relentless sense of duty made him think this was all just fine. Two goods outweighing the one horrible bad ofnot telling mehe was about to start tearing down parts of my house.
“You wanted to do all this, you said you would have had the bathroom already done if you didn’t have to save for the baby.” He pointed in the direction of the house. “I’m helping.”
“You’re overstepping!” I said—or well, shouted, really.
“Why is it so hard for you to accept help?” His voice wasn’t as loud as mine but maybe just as frustrated. He propped both hands on his hips, shoulders tense.
“Because I’ve been trying to prove that I’m not helpless,” I burst, and I couldn’t take that truth back once it was dropped, so I barreled on. “I’m trying to prove that I can fuckingdo this.”
“Do what? Suffer alone?”
“No! Life, parenting, I can be self-sufficient. I wasn’t suffering when you found me, Barry, I don’t need you or my family babying me all the time—I can take care of myself, and I’ll be able to take care of this baby, too.”
“Never once did I say you couldn’t.” Barry pointed at me, and I wanted to swat his hand down.
“Oh,please. You haven’t had to say it, you say it with every action! Insisting you move in with me, cook for me, renovate my fucking house?”
“Hannah,” he started, then exhaled a big breath. His frustration bled from him, morphing into a supreme tiredness that settled over his face, his posture. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then shook his head. “You think I’ve been doing all this because I don’t believe in you?”
“Well—” I floundered, shrugged. “Yeah. But Icando this, Barry. I’ll be a good mother to this baby. Iwill.”
Barry winced and deflated further, arms falling to his sides. He was no longer on the defensive, but part of me wished he was. Fighting with him, being mad and having him be mad back, was easier than this defeated sadness coming off him now. After a quiet moment, he spoke again.
“Why do you still think I want to take her away from you?”
My breath caught. After a long, silent moment, I shrugged.
“Because sometimes I think that I would want to take her from me if I were you. Like, if I were a rich and successful hockey player and found out that Hannah Harvey from Utah was the mother of my unborn child, I’d maybe not think she was the best fit for a partner or a single mother either.”
“Why do you insist on thinking so little of yourself? Why can you not see how great you are?”
