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“Does she know about us?”
He pauses and sniffs. “She knows I’ve been sleeping with somebody, but she doesn’t know who.”
“And she’s willing to take you back?”
“She’s pregnant,” he answers quietly. “She’s willing to overlook it with some therapy.”
I raise a trembling hand to my lips as my mind fully works over this that’s happening. I feel achy and shaky and sick. “Did you know she was pregnant when you had sex with me last night? Did you already know you were leaving me?” He doesn’t answer. The coward doesn’t reply. “ANSWER ME!”
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“But you are. You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
More silence… and then he changes the topic entirely. “You can keep the apartment for as long as you need.”
“Oh my God,” I breathe harshly, feeling my chest constrict and my throat close. “You knew. This wasn’t some last-minute decision. You took me to bed and you FUCKING KNEW you were going to hurt me like this.”
“I told you, I couldn’t do this to your face.”
“You coward. You God damn mother fucking coward,” I spit, clenching my free hand into a fist. My nails bite deep into my palm. “You fuck! How could you? You don’t think I deserve more than this?”
“You deserve the world.”
“YOU JUST TOOK IT FROM ME!”
“I didn’t want that. I never want to hurt you.”
Even in my anger and sorrow I still don’t want him to leave me. I’m a mess of conflicting emotions. “Don’t do this. Please… Ezra. I can’t… I don’t want this without you. What about the getaway? What about pulling the goalie?”
“She’s pregnant,” he repeats sadly. “She’s having my baby. I can’t… we can’t do this anymore. It’s over. It has to be. I have to let you go.”
I’m breaking. I have never felt such a final pain like this. I’ve never felt loss like this.
She has taken back what was hers that I made mine.
“I beg you,” I whisper, gripping the edge of his desk, wondering if this is how she felt when he left her. This man collecting his jar of fucking hearts like they’re nothing more than pebbles and then casting them into the sea. “Don’t leave me. I love you. You made me love you. You make me feel better. I don’t have as many episodes when I’m with you. I hardly count. Without you I’ll regress. I need you. Please.”
He sticks that knife in deeper and twists. “This isn’t about you and me anymore. It can’t be.” He inhales a staggered breath. “This is killing me too.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. “Killing you? You were just waiting for something like this as an excuse to go running back to her.”
“That’s not true!”
“Of course it is. You’ve got it all now. You’ll forget about me by Monday. Whereas I’ll be alone. I’ll have nobody.”
“Don’t say that. I can’t hear it. What would you have me do?”
“CHOOSE ME!” I scream, feeling tears gush down my cheeks like waterfalls. “Choose me. Please. Choose me. Not her. You can still be a father. I’ll help you. I’m willing to be there, for you for this new baby, for Maria. We can all get along and be what they need. Just choose me.”
“You’re not thinking clearly; you’re letting your grief guide you. In a few months when that baby is born, you’ll wish it was yours, or you’ll resent it for taking me away from you, you’ll resent me for putting you in this position. This isn’t a choice between you and my wife anymore. This is the choice between you and my kids. I have to choose my kids.”
“Please…”
“I am so sorry that you’re the one hurt by this. So sorry.”
“I’ll never forgive you for this. I will never come back to you,” I hiss.
“I know and it kills me, but I have to do what’s right for my family.”
“I’m your family too.”
“You will always hold such a large part of my heart and my soul will always be yours.”
Before I can say another word, the line goes dead. Like my soul, the part of me that will always be his.
I bury my face in my arms and cry. This hurts. It’s like physical pain. Searing, burning, aching, clenching pain that I can’t shake.
How can he just throw me away as though I’m nothing?
When my phone rings again I fight the urge to smash it but when I see that it’s Laurie, I answer it and sob so hard none of my words make sense. Yet she hears me anyway.
“I’m coming to get you,” she says simply, “you’ll always have me. Always. You don’t need him.”
I do though. I love Laurie more than the world. But I love Ezra more than myself.
When she disconnects the call, I sit in his office, tapping my fingers against the screen of my phone. I get up to one hundred and eighty-six because thirty-one multiplied by six. But then thirty-one isn’t a multiple of six so I tap up to two hundred and fifty-two because forty-two sixes.
