No wonder Rachel left me standing at the airport without a kiss goodbye. No wonder she flinched away from my touch tonight. I’ve been slowly disappearing from their lives, piece by piece, and somehow I convinced myself it was for them. That the higher pay would give them a better life.
But lying here, with the solid weight of my sons against me, all I can think about is where that “better life” is headed. I’ve been trying to convince myself that it’s going to get better.
But will it?
Startups like True Keys don’t ever let up. They chase growth at all costs.
Fuck, what have I done?
The memory of Rachel's kiss haunts me. The way she responded initially, like muscle memory taking over, before reality crashed back into her brain, loops through my head. I can still taste her chapstick, still feel the silk of her hair between my fingers, still see the moment her eyes changed from warm to wounded.
Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight it. Maybe staying awake could somehow freeze this moment, keep the morning from coming and let me just be with my sons, with nothing else to worry about.
But my eyes grow heavy despite my resistance, and my last thought before drifting off is of Rachel. Of the growing fear that I’m losing her.
Of the terrifying possibility that I already have.
Chapter 18
Rachel
August 2020
Twins. It justhadto be twins.
Sitting in my bed, both babies cradled in each arm so they can properly latch onto me for breastfeeding, I’ve never felt less like a person. I’m a husk, a whispered memory of what it’s like to be human, hidden underneath stretch marks and pelvic pain and sore nipples and the constant, bone-deep fatigue.
Corey is latched on without an issue, but Cayce is struggling again. By now, after six weeks, you’d think the three of us would have mastered this breastfeeding thing.
Apparently not.
He starts fussing, then erupts into cries, and because it’s all too much, I start crying too.
Karan bursts into the room, two bottles of formula in hand. My chest tightens at the sight of them, and I take a breath to stop myself from crying.
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“Rachel.” Karan sits onto the bed. “Once in a while isn’t going to hurt them. You need to rest. Let me.”
“But nipple confusio—”
“Rachel.” Karan puts the bottles down on the night table and places both hands on my knees, his gaze cutting through me like a knife. “I know how much breastfeeding them means to you. I don’t want to discount that. But, please…”
Now both babies are crying in sync, Corey having unlatched at the sound of his brother’s cries. My hormones are screaming at me to soothe them at any cost.
“Having you this exhausted won’t help them.”
My bottom lip quivers as I look down at my babies. I’ve tried so hard to do everything perfectly. Everything so they could have the best of the best. But maybe Karan is right. How can I be the best mom I can be if I’m constantly melting down?
“A bath would be nice,” I whisper.
Karan smiles in relief, lifting both babies from my arms. “Then go. I’ve got them. Take as long as you need. And then make sure to get some sleep.”
I run myself a bath and step into the tub before it’s full. The sensation is heaven. All the tension in my muscles start to loosen up, and I can finally breathe again.
To keep myself from falling asleep, I grab my phone and start scrolling through social media. The water is hot and soothes my tired bones. Karan is right; I need a nap after this.
As I scroll, I don’t really pay attention to the text and photos I’m moving past.
