And it was freaking me the fuck out, because in a few weeks there was going to be a baby lying in it.
“I’m having doubts,” I declared.
“Doubts?”
“Second thoughts.”
“A little late for that, isn’t it?”
Then I blurted out that kernel of darkness that lived inside me. “What if I just have the baby, give it to you, and leave?”
Slowly, he put down his iPad and turned his head toward me. “Is that what you want?”
“Is that whatyouwant?”
“How can you ask me that?”
I didn’t like that he answered my question with a question, but he probably didn’t like that I’d done it, either.
“You don’t love me. You don’t want to get over Allison. Once I have this baby, I’ll be nothing to you other than some convenient sex and a food distributor for the kid.”
He frowned. “There isnothingconvenient about you, Flowers.”
He pushed my feet off his lap and stood up, his hands on his hips.
“Tell me what this is about,” he demanded. “You’re pushing buttons and doing it deliberately. You want me to say I love you?I can’t. Let’s move on. What crawled up your ass in the past few hours?”
I was pushing buttons. I was honest enough with myself to admit that. But there was this huge event that was right around the corner and I was scared. About all of it. The pain, having the baby, not dropping it on its head. Being able to breast feed, which apparently wasn’t a given, based on everything I’d read online.
Fucking nipple protectors.
What if I couldn’t do it? Couldn’t do any of it?
It’s not like E.G. and I had this amazing relationship that I could lean into and depend on to support me while I struggled with all of it.
There were days I thought I was battling for his heart and winning. And there were days I was battling for his heart and losing.
Maybe I was just sick of the fight. Like if I was going to be alone to do this thing, I should just be alone now.
All this was in my head at any given moment of the day and sometimes I could shake it and calm down and sometimes I couldn’t.
“I don’t think I want to be here anymore,” I said quietly.
“Where? In this room? Are you saying you want to go to bed? Fine. Let’s do that. This fight is pointless.”
“No, I’m saying I don’t want to be in this house. Not with you. Not anymore.”
“That’s not an option.”
“So I’m a prisoner?” I challenged him.
He huffed out a breath and tilted his neck back like he was stuck in a fight with a crazy person.
Which he was.
“Let’s approach this logically. You can’t be on your own. Not now. You could go into labor any minute. It’s not safe for you to be alone.”
I shook my head. “Single women have babies all the time. I can get an Uber to the hospital the second my water breaks.”
