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“Just jet set all over the globe and forget he was here.”
“I’m not that guy.”
I nod, but I can’t help the uncertain shrug. “How was I supposed to know that?”
“We were together for a long time,” he reminds me. “You should have known me better than that.”
“And yet, your suggestion that I have an abortion blew me away.”
I see him cringe when I say the word.
“How was I supposed to know?”
“I have never regretted something so much in my life.”
“I was crushed.” I lick my lips. “For him. Thinking he would grow up without a dad. I mean, wasn’t like I knew anything different. He was in my house but never in my life.”
Truman stares at me silently, his throat working to hold in emotion.
“But I saw the way your dad was with all of you.” My eyes burn with tears. “And when I did the test, and it was positive...”
“What?” he whispers.
“I was scared,” I admit. “Scared of being a mom. Of being pregnant. Of giving birth.”
We sit in silence for a moment.
“I was scared to tell you. I thought you would be angry. Surprised. But it never occurred to me that you just wouldn’t want him. Especially not since we had our future mapped out by that time.”
Truman blows out a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”
I nod. “I know.”
“I had no idea then what being a dad meant. I didn’t get that he would be so real, so important, so irreplaceable even in the beginning when you were pregnant.”
Not hungry anymore, I fold up the last of my sandwich in the wrapper and tuck it in the bag.
“I thought we could just move on, and we could have another baby someday.”
The words are so harsh, so unlike the man I loved—still love—that I close my eyes.
“I didn’t get it, Julie.” His words are jagged and breathless. “I didn’t get how incredible that baby would be. I didn’t think about him as Ryle. I didn’t think about him as a newborn. About his voice saying Daddy. I didn’t think about him in a ball glove, playing first base.”
I nod, because I know he’s being honest, and part of me gets it.
“So, we split up, and we moved on,” I remind him.
“Did we?” He reaches over the table and strokes his fingers over the back of my hand.
“We’ve both been with other people now—”
“And that means we can’t figure this out?”
“You never fought for me.”
“What?” He sounds angry now.
“You came back for him,” I say quietly. “But not me.”
