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My heart swells, realizing this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him do this.
Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m walking through the office space and down the steps. I open the door, and step outside. He’s staring at the sidewalk, completely unaware that I’m watching him on the front porch. I wrap my sweater around me a little tighter and lean against the banister.
He nods and then steps up the path, his head lifting. Then he stops. He’s breathing quickly, and perhaps, I am too.
“How long have you been standing there?” he asks.
It’s impossible to fight my smirk. “Long enough.”
“Great.” He puts his hands in his pockets and then pulls them back out, unfurling his fists. “You look,” he starts, fading off as his eyes wander down to my belly.
I’ve really popped in the past week, as evidenced by the flight attendants who changed their tune about my ability to fly on an airplane in just a few days.
“Huge, I know.” I pull the sweater tighter.
“I was going to say gorgeous.” He steps closer but stops at the bottom of the steps. As if waiting for my permission. “You look so beautiful.” His gaze sweeps over me, and in that moment, I believe him.
“Thank you,” I say.
He motions to the steps as if to ask if he can come closer. I shrug, and he climbs the first two steps, leaving a little space between us still. But his fingers twitch as if they long to reach out, to touch me. Part of me wants him to do exactly that. But a bigger part of me is still hurting and shuts it down.
“You did all of this?”
“Oh,” he says, looking embarrassed. “Hardly. I asked your friends what would be helpful. I’d seen your room before… I should have helped sooner. I should have been there for the baby shower and…”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”
“I know,” I say, looking down at the splintered planks beneath my feet and where I dig the toe of my boot into the porch. This porch is my responsibility now. I stop digging my toe into the wood.
“I wanted to make sure you had somewhere that felt like it was yours. A place where you felt like you could work and have the baby with you when you needed to. Not that I expect you to work and watch the baby all the time. I’ll help with childcare, of course. I’ll help you find a good nanny or daycare or whatever you want. Or if you find something, I’ll pay for it. Or help you pay for it. Or—”
“Derek,” I say, interrupting whatever sort of anxious spiral he’s going down. I’ve never seen him so uncertain, so nervous. Part of me is relieved that he’s taking my feelings so seriously. The other part of me is aching for how nervous he is.
“Sorry,” he says, running his fingers through his hair and upsetting all the good work he’d done to tame it. “I’m just nervous. Thanks for coming down and talking to me.”
“Thank you for doing this,” I say, softly.
His eyes flicker up to meet mine and the smallest little smile curves the corner of his mouth. “Yeah? I mean, of course. I’d do anything for you. Even if it means…” He takes a shaky breath and forces a smile. “Even if it means you’re not with me.”
My stomach bottoms out and I feel my face fall. Is that what he’s done? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, given the way I’ve been ignoring him over the past week. If that’s the way he feels, I have no one else to blame.
I want the world for this baby, but not at the expense of my own self-respect. And yet, this pit that’s growing in my stomach is telling me something else entirely.
“I don’t want to take up too much of your time,” he says.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. The question comes out before I can stop it.
His eyes go wide and he looks surprised, but then he nods, as if he expected it, or deserved it.
“Freddy said you haven’t been in a relationship since your ex-wife,” I say, trying to give him something to start off.
He stares at me for a long moment, and then nods slowly, just once. Then he lowers himself, sitting on the second step from the top. I walk around the post I’m leaning against and slowly lower myself to sit on the top step. I’m close enough to feel his heat, but not so close that I can fall under the smell of his scent.
“That’s true,” he says, running his fingers through his hair again. “We had been friends first.Friends with benefitsin college. And then she got pregnant.”
He squeezes the back of his neck, looking out at the street littered with crunchy brown leaves. It’s quieter than usual, as if even the neighborhood animals don’t dare take a breath and interrupt him.
