“I thought you guys were being open with each other.” My friend crosses her arms and bites her lip.
“Yeah, well, I thought he was different than my ex.”
"Tucker isn't Josh."
"Really? Lying. Secrets. What else isn’t he telling me?" I put my hand on my belly. "I'm losing myself. And I can't—I can't do that to these babies. Can't be one of those women who disappears."
"Honey, you’re not going anywhere."
"See? Even you can see that I’m stuck."
Mel doesn't have an answer for that. She sighs. "You should tell him."
"Why? So, he can rush back here and then I feel guilty for interrupting his comeback plans?"
"Or so he can be here for you when you're scared and in the hospital."
"I'm not scared." But my voice shakes when I say it.
Mel just looks at me.
"Anymore," I insist. "We're fine. The babies are fine. I want him on a list of people who cannot come in here."
"Sloane—" Mel starts.
"He's been lying to me. Just like Josh did. Making decisions about what I can handle, what I should know." A wave of pressure steals my breath. When I can speak again, my voice is steady. "I won't do this again. I won't build a life with someone who thinks I'm too fragile for the truth."
Not to mention, I have to get used to him being gone. Because this is exactly what I have to look forward to. Long stretches of time where it’s just me… and dozens of his relatives with suggestions and casseroles.
Dr. Patel returns during evening rounds.
She's calm and professional as always, checking my chart, asking questions, examining the monitor readings. But when she sees Mel sitting beside my bed, her eyebrows rise.
"Where's Tucker?" she asks.
"Out of town. On a road trip."
"Does he know you're here?"
The question hangs in the air between us.
"He’s not reachable," I say. The words come out flat, final. "And I’d like my chart to reflect that he’s not welcome."
Dr. Patel and Mel exchange another one of those looks. The kind that says they think I'm making a colossal mistake but are too polite to say it out loud.
"I'm making my own damn decisions for once," I snap. "Isn't that what everyone wants? For me to be independent? To take control of my life?"
"That's not—" Mel tries.
Dr. Patel pauses, pinches her lips together, then finishes her notes. “Blood pressure is still high, Sloane. We'll keep monitoring you overnight. Try to rest. We'll talk more in the morning."
She leaves, and my best friend rolls after her. Judging me, probably. Thinking I'm making a mistake.
Maybe I am. But it's my mistake to make.
Alone in the hospital room, surrounded by beeping monitors and the steady rhythm of my babies' heartbeats, I finally let myself cry.
Not the scared crying from earlier. This is something deeper. Grief, maybe. For what I thought this would be. For what I wanted and can't have.
