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He was so frustrating for not getting it. I didn’t need to actually meet the baby to know that I’d love them. Why wasn’t he feeling the same connection? Was it because it wasn’t truly his?
“From here on out, it’s no longer about me. Are you ready to be a father, or aren’t you?”
“How the hell should I know?!”
He shouted at me loudly and suddenly and then immediately covered his face, as if trying to cram the words back in.
“I mean, I am,” he said, calming himself, but there was a sense of doubt in his voice. Or so I thought. Maybe it was all in my head. Still, it was enough distrust for me to get lost in. And like the way a tiny tear in a sheet of paper or imperfection in a coat of paint could quickly grow into something much bigger, even a small concern could magnify quickly. And, all in all, this was a bad sign. “I’m the kind of guy who rises to the occasion, but I need to actually be put in the situation to know for sure.”
“I don’t think you are ready,” I told him, offering him the brutal honesty that I demanded in return.
“Why can’t you just trust me, Mila?” he asked. “Why, after all that we’ve been through, can’t you just trust me?”
“Look in my eyes,” I said. “I want you to look in my eyes and convince me that you are ready to be a father. Are you ready to be a father?”
“I think so,” he said forcefully, looking directly at me, but the immediate ensuing silence made even him question his certainty.
My heart wanted to believe him, but my gut was saying it wasn’t worth the risk. And he could see that in my face. I wasn’t convinced.
“I think I just need a little time to process. This was a huge bomb that just dropped.”
That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. Sure, the logical part of my brain told me that he was human and needed time to take in such a huge emotional change in our lives — even if it was one that we could have been prepared for if only we’d remained open to the possibility earlier on. The old adage said not to count eggs until they hatch, and that was almost literally exactly what we’d done. We were smart people — how could we make such an idiotic mistake?
I shook my head. “It’s fine,” I said, “really. I knew this was going to happen.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I didn’t know,” I said, “but I was ready for it. I…” the words were hard to say, but I needed to say them. “I bought a house.”
“You what?!”
“I bought a house. I bought it myself because I knew I wouldn’t be able to count on you if the baby wasn’t yours. It’s fine. Walk away.”
He was furious. I could see it in his eyes, though he kept himself composed.
“You bought a house without me?” He was deeply hurt.
I immediately started to feel my stomach turn. I knew I had made the right decision, but right then it felt so wrong.
“I thought I could trust you! I thought we were a team,” he said, with a deep sadness and anger in his voice that I had never seen before.
“I just needed to have a safety net for me and the baby—”
“Look,” he cut me off, “here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to get a motel for a few nights. I’ll keep my space, and you can keep yours. And we’re going to really think about this. What has happened here is too much to process. I’m really going to think about this. It’s all too much. I was ready, and now this.”
It was all words. They didn’t matter, though. He may not have made up his mind, but I had. Whether he stayed or whether he left, I wasn’t going to let him be the father in this baby’s life. It wasn’t just that I didn’t feel like I could trust him and now how he felt he couldn’t trust me. The defensiveness and unwillingness to listen to me was enough. If it was just me, I could write it off as an emotional situation getting the better of him, but this wasn’t just me: this was about my baby’s future. And if this was a glimpse of the possibility of what we had to look forward to as a couple, I couldn’t chance it. I needed to get out and as far away from him as possible.
The house’s closing day was tomorrow and, through the whole process, I’d managed to keep Leo out of it.
As soon as the sale of the house closed, I’d be able to move into it. He’d come back to his apartment — technically Kiefer’s apartment — and when he did, I would be gone like a ghost. He’d have no way of finding me so long as I didn’t pick up the phone, and that’s how it would have to be. If he wasn’t able to make the decision for himself, I would have to make it for him. And maybe it made me a crazy bitch to kick this man out of my life after all the kindness he’d shown me. Maybe that’s how he’d describe me to his friends and maybe even a therapist forever into the future. I didn’t care. He had his chance to make the right decision, and he blew it.
And, in order to do the right thing, I’d have to lie a little bit to him.
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said, forcing myself to calm down. “Take some time away. Let's not make any rash decisions.” I almost hurt myself with that one. The irony of telling him not to make any rash decisions when I’d already made one in my head without telling him.
I looked at him with a soft smile and almost felt bad for him.
Then I looked over at Bagel. Sweet, sweet Bagel. Her I felt awful for. I petted her on the head, scratching her hard behind the ears like she loved and kissing her.
