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In no way, shape, or form was I encouraging her to ‘get on with life.’ Not when getting out of bed in the morning was hard as fuck for me, and I hadn’t gone through the physical torment that she had.
I frowned. “No. You take it as slow as you want.”
I just wanted her to fucking eat and get some sleep.
“Flopping around the apartment crying isn’t getting me anywhere.” She wafted a hand at Jen, answering me while somehow acting as if I weren’t there. “Come on, let’s eat. Padraig is coming to see Jake and Finn.”
“That’s not true. I’m sure he wants to get to know you too,” I argued, but again, she ignored me, retreating to the kitchen as Jen followed her.
With my concerned gaze clinging to my wife, I hovered outside the kitchen, wanting to give them privacy but needing to monitor the situation.
I watched Jen plunk the gift bags I finally noticed she was carrying onto the counter, then she took me by surprise because Jen wasn’t exactly affectionate, and she moved over to Aoife. She gave her a hug from behind, and when Aoife stiffened, I had to admit that relief washed through me.
She was pulling away from everyone, not just me.
Then, I realized what a jackass that made me for being relieved. Throwing away the negative shit, I wished to hell that she’d spin around and take comfort in her friend.
I even said The Lord’s Prayer, but no dice.
She didn’t hug her back, not even when Jen groused, “I missed you.”
“Missed you too, Jen,” Aoife whispered.
“Then why cut me out?”
“Because I-I don’t know… I just wanted to be alone.”
Another understatement.
“You’re not made to be alone,” Jen reasoned. “I’d have come and hung out. You didn’t have to isolate yourself.”
“I did. I wasn’t fit for company. I was crying all the time, either that or sleeping. I just…” She blew out a breath. “It was difficult. I was really happy, and then, I just wasn’t.”
“I’m so sorry, Eef. I shouldn’t have sprung my news on you. I just, well, I tell you everything.”
What news?
My brow furrowed as Aoife muttered, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No?” Jen whispered.
“No.” She patted her hand. “The OBGYN said it was high-risk. She even said…” Her gulp was audible. “She told me that I should terminate the pregnancy.”
That was the first time she’d said that aloud without coercion.
I closed my eyes as her admission had a cocktail of emotions roaring through me.
Anger. Concern. Fear.
A potent combination that put my back up.
“Finn never said—”
“He didn’t know. I went without him to that appointment.” She bit her lip before she conceded, “I knew something wasn’t right before they even did the exams.”
“Oh, my God, Eef.”
“I knew what he’d say. I didn’t want to hear it. I knew what you’d say too,” she muttered mulishly. “I didn’t want to hear that either.”
