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It’s not as if we’re going to be together romantically, no. We just made the decision to strictly co-parent Olive, and all me telling him will do is to open up old wounds and hurt him, and I don’t want to do that. I never wanted to do that.
Telling him will accomplish nothing but rocking an already unstable boat.
“I’m so sorry, I’m barely holding my eyes open,” I say, trying to shift the conversation because it feels too heavy, and right now, I’m so exhausted and unsure of how to move forward. Birth itself is exhausting, but in the past few days, I’ve barely slept because I couldn’t take my eyes off of Olive. Even now, I’m watching her sleep with the baby monitor, and already ready to get up to check on her. We’re only a wall away but being away from her is hard.
“I can head out, let you guys get some rest?”
I nod. “You could come back tomorrow? You know, if you want...?” I trail off.
“I’ll be here. What if I bring you breakfast? I have a few errands I want to run in the morning, but I can be here around ten?”
“That sounds good. Do you have your phone?”
He nods, then reaches into the front pocket of his jeans and pulls it out, handing it over.
I quickly input my number, saving it under Maddison, then hand it back to him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
We both rise from the couch, standing awkwardly for a moment before he reaches forward and gently pulls me into his arms. His strong arms circle my body, and for a moment, I breathe in the earthy, clean scent that I remember so well from the weekend we spent together, before I pull back and clear my throat.
“Goodnight, Maddison. Give Olive a kiss for me?”
He strides toward the front door, then walks out and leaves me alone in my living room. I have a feeling that co-parenting with Briggs Wilson will be more difficult than I thought, and it has nothing to do with him, and everything to do with those feelings that never went away after the weekend we spent together.
