Page 62 of Easy On Me

Her jaw firmed, and she lifted her chin. “I can feed myself.”

“You can.” I shrugged. Maybe if I gave her some space, made being here easier. “I was going to throw together grilled pimiento cheese sandwiches. Just as easy to make four as three.”

Indecision warred on her face, her mouth tight and unhappy. She gave a clipped nod. “Okay. I’m going to finish moving my things.”

With another nod, I stepped back and spun, walking back up the hall, passing our baby’s room and the guest room, waiting for her. Disappointment and a crazy sense of being abandoned gripped my throat so I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t get a good inhale. She’d lived with this sensation her whole life, and I was falling apart after twenty-four hours. She was absolutely the strongest person I knew, and I loved her.

And the weakest person I knew threatened everything I’d managed to create for Tyler.

In the kitchen, I bent forward, resting my forehead on the counter, my gut cramping. I squeezed my burning eyes shut.

Damn it, Elizabeth.

Chapter Eighteen

Tyler

Having Maggie show up the next day didn't surprise me at all. Marilyn being with her?

My jaw dropped before I threw myself into her arms. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you.” She smirked and tucked my hair behind my ear.

“No, in Georgia.” My eyes pricked, much as they had for the past two days. I hated to cry, but ever since Jase stood in the kitchen and said “she says it's mine?”

Waterworks. All the time, with the smallest provocation.

“My boss is angling for some accounts in Atlanta and my husband is getting on my nerves. Plus, you need me, so here I am.”

She cupped my face while Maggie unpacked goodies from a bag bearing the Tea Room logo. “Now show me the nursery.”

I burst into tears. She was here. They were both here. For me.

“Oh, honey.” Marilyn gathered me close, stroking my hair. She clucked in sympathy. “Those pregnancy hormones are something, aren't they?”

I cried harder, burying my face in the curve between her neck and shoulder, inhaling subtle expensive perfume and friendship – pure Marilyn.

Maggie's arms came around me from the other side, and I sagged into Marilyn. She continued to smooth my hair, murmuring soothing nonsense while Maggie simply held on. We stood like that, the two of them hugging me while I sobbed out my disappointment and fear.

When I was spent, eyes swollen and aching, nose stuffed up, Marilyn took one step back and brushed a finger over my wet cheek. “Better?”

A harsh laugh scored my aching throat. “No.”

“I'm sure.” Marilyn wound an arm about my waist. “I want to see the baby's room for real and the painting you did for him. And you can tell us what you're thinking.”

“I'm thinking I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

Marilyn tutted in dismissal. “Come on and tell me what's happening. Then we'll talk about mistakes.”

Like always, she was grounded - unemotional and inexorable. Maggie was practical but let me dwell in my emotions. Marilyn? She was the epitome of rational and would expect me to operate outside of my emotional upheaval. I could have emotions, according to my friend who played hardball with a stone cold CEO daily, but I couldn’t let them rule me.

“Good luck with that.” Drawing my disappointment around me like an icy cloak, I led them through the den and down the hall to where the nursery and guest room doors stood open.

Marilyn peered in the guest room first, the bed rumpled and messy, because I hadn't slept well and hadn't been able to dredge up the energy to take two minutes and straighten it like I normally would. And really, what was the point? All my structure and routines, keeping our lives and what had been our home neat and easy and secure, had proved useless. Because his past had blown everything up with just a few words.

I simply couldn't move past the way I felt, an echo of being small, waiting for someone to come for me when they never did. I'd let myself lean into a future with Jase, and that hope, those dreams, had been yanked away. At least it felt that way.

“So you're sleeping in here.” Marilyn's observation was not a question. I studied the words for any sign of judgment and found none.