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Shit.
Somehow, I manage to finish my food, but despite the fact that this is my favorite lunch item, I barely taste the sandwich. I drink some water, walk around the office, and then settle back in my chair. I’ve got to come up with a plan.
Something.
I have to do something because if I don’t, everything is going to go to hell.
The rest of the day drags by in slow motion. Patients come into the office, pay their bills, chat a little, and then they leave. The doctors move in and out of the reception area with questions about files and paperwork, and I do everything that everyone asks of me, but I’m not focused on my work at all.
Finally, just before five, Heather comes up to me and asks if I’m okay.
“I’m totally fine,” I lie through my teeth. Look at that: lying. I’ve never been particularly good at lying, and I don’t think I’m any good at it now. All I know is that I’m not ready.
I’m not ready for any of this.
I wasn’t ready to be a mom, and I’m not ready to talk to Cage, and I’m not ready to discuss the situation with Heather.
“You’re obviously not okay,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “Did I make any mistakes today?”
“Nope,” she shakes her head. “Your paperwork is all good. In fact, it was even more perfect today than usual, somehow.”
“How is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” she laughs. “But I do know that you’re going through something.”
“That’s an oversimplification,” I sigh.
“Sometimes that’s okay.”
“I just don’t know what the right thing to do is.”
“Maybe you don’t,” she says. “Or maybe you’re scared of doing the right thing.”
“I shouldn’t be,” I tell her.
“Perhaps not,” Heather shrugs. “But don’t even let anyone tell you that doing the right thing feels good. It doesn’t. Usually, doing the right thing makes you feel the worst. At least, that’s what Teddy always tells me, and my ol’ bear is usually right.”
“Yeah,” I say, sighing. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
She leaves, and I finish wrapping things up for the day. Five o’clock rolls around and I leave the office to go pick up Orlando from preschool. The way the sky looks is making me a little worried. If I had to guess, we’ve got some sort of storm about to roll in. No way am I ready for that, so we stop by the store to pick up a few supplies before we head home.
I whip up a quick, healthy dinner and then the two of us play trains and blocks for a little while before I put Orlando to bed. Once he’s all tucked in, I retreat to my little living room with a glass of wine and a book, and I settle down on the couch.
Only, the words are swimming in front of me.
I can’t focus on a single thing.
He’s back.
Cage is back.
He’s back and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. When I got pregnant, the idea of telling him was always at the back of my mind. Obviously, if he’d stuck around, I could have told him. As time passed, though, it became obvious that he was never coming back, and eventually, I stopped thinking about telling him altogether.
But now the idea of him coming back is hauntingly horrifying.
What if he takes Orlando away from me?
