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Chapter Twenty-Three
Josephine
It’s an hour later than when I would’ve preferred to serve dinner, but we needed the time to just be in each other’s arms. Maceo is still visibly upset, but the more I reassure him that he’s his own person and that I love him for him, the more he relaxes.
“So good,” Maceo mumbles around his third helping.
“Really?” I ask, turning up my nose.
Maybe it’s because the rice is not rice, but I swear all I can smell is the cauliflower, and it’s overpowering everything else. I eat because I need to, but it would be so much better with rice. Come hell or high water, I will finish at least one serving.
With Maceo dropping the Esteban-possible-baby-daddy bomb, I want to focus the rest of the evening on happier topics. If Maceo wants to talk more about the bio-theory, then we’ll talk about it. But I get the distinct suspicion Maceo wants to drop the subject entirely—like he never uncovered the truth of his mother’s imprisonment.
Disregarding his anger will do him no favors. As far as I’m concerned, Maceo had proper parents, and Esteban wasn’t one of them. But I can’t speak for Maceo. All I can do is try to convince him to agree with me. He and I are a package deal, but this directly affects him.
If my counseling has taught me anything, it’s that dealing with the problem is always better than burying it, even if it’s difficult. It’s one thing for Maceo not to care about Esteban and another to ignore the pain. Unresolved issues have a way of festering in the soul, becoming toxic and destructive.
Maceo refused to let me slip into my depression after Jacob attacked me. He charged ahead, finding me the best PTSD counseling he could. For me, it worked—I reacted well to early intervention because I was receptive. But everyone is different.
My husband is stubborn, but I cracked through his hard shell a long time ago. When I suggested counseling to deal with his anger issues, he was receptive and took the initiative to begin therapy. He’s been doing well with it, but I hope this latest revelation doesn’t set him back in his emotional healing. We can take it one day at a time, working through it together, with Brandon’s guidance.
But not tonight. It was enough for Maceo to reveal everything to me. There’s no reason to saturate us further with thoughts of Esteban before he’s ready to deal with it.
Maceo deserves a pleasant homecoming, one which involves walking him through our new home, lots of love, and a big reveal. I’m going to avoid upsetting Maceo any more, putting off disclosing my medical condition until tomorrow.
“This wine is surprisingly good too,” Maceo says, throwing back the Malbec.
Jealous, I gnaw the inside of my cheek to rein in my melancholy. This pregnancy diet sucks, but I’m hoping to have a sliver of cheesecake without my blood sugar going through the roof.Crossing my fingers and toes.
“Thepaellahas this unique flavor to it,” Maceo muses aloud, then shrugs. “I like it.”
I sigh, picking at my food. “I substituted the rice with cauliflower.”
He stops eating, his brows pinched. “Oh. Why?”
It’s no use. I wanted to give him a pleasant homecoming. After what he revealed to me in the journal, I didn’t want to taint the evening further with more bad news. But I’m so tired of trying to be strong, trying to remain calm when all I feel like doing is crying out my frustration and fear. My husband is the one I should confide in when I’m overwhelmed and frightened.
I set down my fork. “I was trying to avoid souring the mood more tonight, but I can’t keep this to myself anymore. I have gestational diabetes.” I burst into tears.
Maceo's chair scrapes across the floor. He gets up and moves around the dining table to kneel beside me, taking my hands in his. His face is lined with worry. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I only found out today,” I choke. I describe how complex my pregnancy has become and what to expect. Maceo listens intently, absorbing every word.
“If I’m lucky and can control it with diet, I won’t need insulin. I’m so fucking scared of something happening to the babies. All I keep dwelling on is the potential risks and outcomes. And then I think, what am I doing wrong? I’ve done everything right, but this pregnancy outcome keeps getting more alarming.”
Maceo leans his forehead against mine, his weight leaning into me. “We’ll get through this just like we’ve gotten through everything else—together. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you got the results, but I’m here, and I got you. The babies are going to be fine. You’re going to be fine.”
“Promise?”
“Yes,” he says before kissing my forehead. “You keep doing your part, following the doctor’s orders. I’m here to help you with whatever you need. I honestly didn’t think this would be an issue when we talked on the phone last. You’re extremely healthy. This doesn’t make sense. Are you sure the test is accurate?”
“It’s accurate. If I follow all the guidelines, then there’ll be no surprises.”
Speaking of surprises... I slide the reveal envelope toward Maceo. It’s time to brighten our moods—we both need this. “I don’t think we should wait to find out any longer.”
His eyes widen with delight. He gives me his famous panty-dropping smile. “Did you peek?”
“No! I gave it to Jared for safekeeping, so I couldn’t.”
