Did I read that right?
I couldn’t even double check it because—fuck—the battery.
I released a breath, a smile tugging at my lips despite the cold.
Talk? Yes.
We could fucking talk alright—because if I’d understood her message, it might mean I could move back home.
With Lila.
And I wouldn’t have to keep working here.
My body sang with relief at the slightest hint of eight hours of sleep, but I couldn’t assume that’s what she meant.
But it was, right?
The phone remained silent, leaving me to answer my own questions.
“Well, fuck.” I pushed my legs forward, clicking on my torch to shine into all the dark spaces the floodlights missed. I felt lighter, and renewed, even though I’d merely read a text message from my wife.
Did she send it from the kitchen table, her hand caressing her stomach as she stared at bills she couldn’t afford? But I was paying her enough, so she didn’t have to worry. What was going on?
Then it hit me. The house hadn’t sold, and Lila was pregnant. She’d always been practical and ever logical. Maybe she knewthe house wouldn’t sell until she was heavily pregnant, and knowing her like I did, she wouldn’t want to move then.
She wouldn’t get paid much being off with the baby, and she’d need money more than ever then. If I were living there, I could provide financially without her paying anything.
I swallowed. I’d probably have to continue to work more hours, but whatever it took so she didn’t have the stress.
Still, I needed to get home and charge my battery so I could arrange to see her.
My torch continued to light up corners while my mind worked on overdrive. The wet gravel crunched beneath my boots, and the rain drenched my face, but I didn’t care.
Lila needed me to move home.
Fuck yes!
As what, though, a fucking roomie? How could I do that? See her every day, with my baby growing inside of her, and not be able to touch her or hold her?
I remembered what my mother had said the other night at dinner: You have to focus on being a father now. Make money, support Lila, and be the best person you can be.
That’s what Dad would’ve done.
But dad wouldn’t have fucked another woman.
I lurched forward, eyes blinking away the rain as I tried to focus on the job.
But Jesus, my chest hurt. I felt like there was a band tightening around it, and with each second that passed, it grew tighter.
I inhaled the damp air, stopping and closing my eyes as I tipped my head back.
I listened to the rain falling around me and focused on my breathing.
Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe I could…
What? Get her back?
I opened my eyes and shook my head, laughing at myself.
