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All the reasons I’ve been determined to make sure she got better than me, better than the baggage I don’t want her to have to carry, don’t measure up against this. A baby.Our baby.
It should scare the hell out of me. I swore I never wanted a family, was sure I meant it. But with those two words, all I can think isyes. Because with Stormy everything would be different.
This woman knows love. She’s loyal and protective and so fuckinggood. So kind and smart and affectionate.
And she’s going to need me. And that trumps all my fears and insecurities, the what-ifs and wanting better for her… everything.
Christ, I don’t have to let her go.
I’ll be there for her, for them.
We’ll be tied together for the rest of our lives.
A laugh starts to push its way free when the next words rise above the quiet mumbling.
“… not telling him…”
The words land like a stunning blow. Brutal and unexpected.
Confusing.
I’m hearing her wrong. I have to be.
Yes, of course she has choices. And I’ll respect whatever hers are.
But not telling me? That can’t be right.
Except why not?
If there’s a baby, maybe now she’ll see why distancing herself from me and whatever potential shitstorm Jess tries to stir up matters. Or maybe it’s because I didn’t want kids. Maybe I should go back in there and tell her I was wrong. That if it was with her—
Or… maybe I should respect the fact that she doesn’t want to talk to me about it right now and give her some space so she can think. And when she’s ready to share this with me, I can tell her that, yeah, a kid scares me. But somehow having one with her… doesn’t.
My head is reeling. But that perfect ache in my chest is gone. Just gone.
I take a step back. Turn. Put one foot in front of the other, pulling oxygen in and then pushing it out, until I’m sucking deep lungfuls of the icy March air.
I walk the streets for hours, trying to get a grip. To remind myself this is what I asked for, it’s what’s best.
Isn’t it?
When I get home, she’s long gone. So are her boxes.
It looks exactly the same as it did before she moved in, but it feels fucking empty. Like the only thing that mattered is gone.
26
Liam
Every day I think I’ve hit my limit, that I can’t go another fucking second without knowing where Stormy’s head is. If there’s room in it for me. But I heard it with my own ears. She didn’t want me to know… and I can only hope she meantyet.
So somehow, I make it through another twenty-four hours of giving her the time and space she needs.
Fine, I still text every day. But for fuck’s sake, I need to know she’s okay.
And according to her, she is.
No, she doesn’t need me to run the charging block she left out to her place. Yes, the car is running fine. No, she doesn’t need anything before I leave town.
