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We finished the appointment, and I shook the doctor’s hand, and Amethyst did too. “Thank you, Dr. Mueller,” she said.
She looked happy, genuinely so, and seeing that made my heart squeeze.
But none of that happiness was present when we got back into the SUV.
“That was a good appointment,” I said.
“It was,” she responded.
Her voice was distant, and I didn’t press.
We made it back to the hotel, and I said, “I’ll order food.”
“Okay.”
“What do you want?” I asked.
“You mean I have choices?” she said.
I could feel my temper flare, but I pushed it down.
“What do you want for breakfast, Amethyst?” I said.
“Oatmeal. Egg whites. My eight ounces of coffee.”
Her voice was distant, monotone, but I didn’t let it get to me.
Instead, I ordered the food, then stood next to her where she sat near the windows, waiting.
“You know, it wasn’t cool of you to make that appointment without talking to me about it,” she said.
“I don’t care if you think it was cool or not,” I said.
“And that’s the point! You don’t—”
She had shifted, her eyes blazing, but just as quickly, the fight went out of her.
“What?” I asked, trying to keep my own anger out of my voice.
“What are you planning?”
“To go to Armenia until the baby is born,” I said.
“Without asking me,” she said.
“Amethyst, you’ve lost the right to an opinion.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Fine. Let me play your game. What do you want?”
“To have never met you,” she said.
The words were like daggers in my heart, but I ignored the pain, and instead responded.
“Not something I am able to deliver,” I said.
“I know. And besides, if I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have the baby. And I love him,” she said.
“So you’ll tolerate me?”
“I don’t have a choice,” she said.
“No, you don’t,” I responded.
She sighed, her heartbreak clear. A moment later, she blinked and then gave me the most false smile I’d ever seen.
“Then let’s have breakfast.”
