Ronan wants kids,someday.
I hopesomedaymeans in roughly seven months because that’s when I’ll be birthing his child, and all I can do is hope that he’ll be happy about it.
It’s been three days since we talked, and Ronan admitted to wanting a family, but his words were anything but reassuring to me. In fact, they had the opposite effect. They’ve been playing on a loop in my head, sending me spiraling to the point where I can’t tell if my nausea is from the pregnancy or my anxiety.
I know Ronan didn’t mean for his words to hurt me. In fact, I’m sure he thought he was reassuring me. But all I could hear was the subtle pause before he offered me an answer. An answer that has left me feeling empty because the thing is, I don’t havesomeday. I havenow.
I have a six-week-old life growing inside me, and every morning when I wake up and look in the mirror, it’s like the secret is etched deeper into my skin, and at some point, I won’t be able to hide it anymore.
The effect this pregnancy is having is clear in the deep purple shadows under my eyes and in the slight ache in my breasts.
How Ronan hasn’t figured it out is beyond me, considering the fact I can barely stomach a few crackers. But then again, he’s hardly been around, too busy focusing on the O’Keefe brothers to pay much attention to my eating habits.
But at some point, my bump will start to grow, and it won’t be something I can hide behind oversized sweaters. Not only that, but I don’twantto hide it. I want to share this experience with my husband.
My husband who wants kidssomeday…
I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, dripping wet and naked after my shower, staring down at my abdomen.
My hand hovers over my still-flat stomach, and my throat starts to thicken.
Will he be angry when I tell him? Will he blame me?
He’s made himself very clear that he isn’t thinking about having children right now, and this baby isn’t going anywhere.
I try to mentally prepare myself for every possible outcome that could happen when I tell Ronan he’s going to be a father, but so far, every single one I've come up with isn’t good. So, I continue to keep my mouth shut and hope he’ll change his mind before my bump starts to show.
I stay standing in front of the mirror until I start to shiver from the cold, so I hastily dry myself with a towel and throw on some sweats before heading down the hall to the guest room where Mila’s been staying.
Yesterday was Max’s funeral, and while it was small, with only close family in attendance, Ronan and I stood in the shadows of the trees to support Mila from a distance, watching silently as they lowered the coffin.
It was both beautiful and devastating at the same time.
My eyes still hurt from crying, but Mila barely shed a tear. It was as if she had used them all up in the days following Max’s murder. She stood at the edge of the grave with this hollow sortof stillness, her head bowed and her shoulders slumped as her dark hair hung about her face.
Ronan didn’t let go of my hand the entire time, squeezing my fingers every so often to remind me that I wasn’t alone. But having him beside me only made me cry harder; though that also could have been due to the pregnancy hormones... Either way, I’m grateful that we made up before the funeral because I’m not sure I would have been able to get through it without him.
Max should have had decades, and instead, he’s in the ground, all because someone wanted to send a message. I sometimes forget how cruel this world that I live in is. But that moment, watching my best friend bury her brother, was one hell of a reminder.
I knock on Mila’s door before pushing it open to find her standing at the end of her bed, sorting out her things.
Ronan didn’t want her going back to her apartment to get clothes, so instead, he gave her his card and had her order whatever she needed to the house.
For all his faults, Ronan Sullivan really can be very sweet when he tries.
I lean against the door frame as I watch Mila fold her clothes. “Are you sure you’re ready to go?”
Mila glances up at me with a sad smile. Even though her eyes are still red and her complexion is pale, she looks almost like her old self again.
“I think it’s time.”
“You could stay a little longer, just until?—”
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Ciara. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you, and Ronan for that matter, which is never something I thought I would say…”
I chuckle as I push off the door frame and come to perch on the edge of the enormous bed, tucking my feet up underneath me.
She zips up her bag. “But I need to go home and get back into normal life. If I stay, I’m just going to keep wallowing in my grief, and I think Max would’ve hated that.”
