He paused, watching her closely. “I thought maybe you were sick… I didn’t want you here alone—especially not with the baby.”
“Oh.”
That was all she said. No warmth. No relief. Just that one syllable, blank and unreadable.
Bryce’s concern shifted subtly—less panic now, more confusion. Quiet frustration. He slid into doctor mode, trying to anchor himself with something practical.
“Lizzy, what’s going on? Are you feeling sick? Fever? Nausea? Flu-like symptoms?”
Beth shook her head and pushed his hand away when he moved to check her again.
“No. Nothing like that. I didn’t answer because… I just needed space. I didn’t want to talk to you. Or anyone.”
Bryce sat back on his heels, tension tight in his jaw. He tried to soften his voice, but frustration bled through.
“Why are you pushing me away? Is this still about Monday night?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She stood, walked into the bathroom, and—without looking back—clicked the lock behind her.
The sound was sharp. Final.
Bryce’s breath left in a rush. He scrubbed a hand down his face, anger bubbling beneath the helpless ache in his chest.
He had been so tightly wound with fear over her well-beingthat it hadn’t even crossed his mind she might be ignoring him because she was mad.
“What’s happening here, Lord?” he murmured, listening as the shower kicked on.
A wave of déjà vu hit—Beth in the shower, him on the other side of the door, praying. Just like that morning in Vegas. The morning everything changed.
“God, I don’t know what’s going on, but You do. Please guide my words… my actions. I wasn’t willing to let her walk out of my life back then, and I won’t now.”
CHAPTER 45
Not sure what else to do, Bryce made the bed—out of habit, mostly, but also because he knew she liked it that way. The simple task gave his hands something to do while his thoughts spun.
Downstairs, he brewed a pot of coffee and pulled eggs from the fridge, settling on omelets. He was hungry—and Beth looked like she hadn’t eaten since he left.
As he scrambled the eggs, his prayers didn’t stop.
“Almost four months, Lord, and we’re right back where we started. She’s in the shower, trying to find a way to leave me, and I’m out here trying to piece together what happened. This feels like a massive overreaction to one fight. There’s got to be something more going on. Help me out, Lord.”
He heard footsteps on the stairs and glanced up and saw her.
Beth was descending, a bag in her hand and her purse slung over her shoulder. The sight froze him in place. Then the heat hit—anger and frustration flaring fast and hard. She wouldn’t even look at him. Not even when he called her name.
“So that’s it?” Bryce snapped. “One fight and you’re leaving—without even talking to me?” His voice cracked like a whip, every ounce of restraint gone. Beth stopped but didn’t turn. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder, silent.
Bryce’s fist slammed against the island’s countertop.
“What the hell, Beth? I thought we were making this work! What about our plans—for raising our child? Is this because of what I said about Lynn? Or is it my past? Did you decide I’m not good enough for you—or our baby?”
He latched onto the only explanation that made sense, clinging to it like a lifeline. His voice shook with anger, his hands gripping the counter as old insecurities pushed their way to the surface.
Beth winced but still didn’t speak. Letting him think this was about their argument felt easier than facing the truth.
Wrapped in grief, she clung to the lie that leaving now would hurt less than staying and being rejected later. He already thought she was too much—too harsh, too judgmental. If he saw her like this—broken and empty—she just couldn’t believe he’d still want her.
