Chapter 43
Liz, February 27
Saturday mornings are supposed to be my favorite time. No stress about Monday yet, that’s blissfully reserved for tomorrow. You can sleep in, lounge in pajamas for far too long, and sneak in some menial errands if you feel like it. I stretch happily for Matt’s side of the bed, eager to snuggle up and enjoy the rare moment we’re home together. Matt promised to take the day off, to spend time with me.
My hand hits cold bed sheets. I freeze. Empty. His side is empty. My stomach twists.
Sighing, I throw my legs out of bed and head to the bathroom. “Matt?” I call, half-hoping for singing, shower noise, anything. But deep down, I already know the answer.
I grab my phone from the charger and hit his smiling picture.
“Hello.” Crisp. Rigid. Irritated?
“Hey, Matt, it’s me. What’s up? I thought you were taking today off.”
“That was the plan. Plans change. I’m stuck here. It was an emergency,” he barks.
“Okay, I was just checking. Do you know when you’ll be home? Maybe we can still—”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay, I guess just call me when you leave.”
“Will do.” Click.
I drop the phone back on the bed, stomach sinking. Again. Another Saturday morning swallowed by work. A bad feeling curls in my gut. This is not how it was supposed to go. I should be laughing, drinking coffee together, talking about baby names. Instead, I’m alone.
I wander into the empty room I’ve decided will belong to the baby. Six months until August. Six months to get this room and my life ready for someone who hasn’t even arrived yet. It suddenly doesn’t feel like enough time. My chest tightens.
I lie on the floor, staring at the bare ceiling, and allow my mind to wander. I think about Ben. Just for a second, a fleeting, guilty thought. What would he say if he saw me now? Probably nothing. Probably just shake his head and sigh. But I push it down. I can’t think about him. Not now. Not ever again.
I close my eyes, letting the silence press around me, the empty room echoing my disappointment. I drift back toward sleep, numb. Pretending it’s fine, pretending this is the life I chose. And yet, under it all, I feel a quiet spark of frustration, a little voice whispering that something in me is still waiting to be seen.
Chapter 44
Ben, March 11
I’m staring at the ceiling and have no idea why. I roll over and snuggle down into the covers, trying to reclaim the sleep that’s apparently being stolen from me. Then it happens again, a ping from my phone. Another email alert. I really should learn to sleep with that blasted thing in another room. I shove the pillow over my head, determined to ignore it.
Third alert. Loud. Insistent.
I work for a nuclear power facility; ignoring email is probably unwise. Resigned, I grab the phone.
The subjects flash on the screen: “Skype?”, “Please”, “Ben, please.”
I can’t even open them. I haven’t spoken to Liz in ten months. Ten months. And suddenly, she’s messaging me at, according to the clock my eyes flash to, 2 a.m.
Another alert. “I need you.”
Had this been anything else, the phone would be smashed. Yet, before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching for my laptop.
I unblock her Skype address. Instantly, the call pings. She’s waiting. I click. Her face floods my screen, and a wave of nostalgia and loneliness hits me.
“Thank you,” she begins.
“What do you need?” I let every bit of hurt and anger bleed into my voice. I want her to feel some of it.
“Can you turn on a light or something? I can’t really see you.” She looks almost afraid I’m going to jump through the screen.
