"We were." So much of my life had been planned out. At twenty-one I thought I knew everything. Expected things to be the way I intended. Nothing could have been further from the truth.
Mariah smooths out the front of my shirt, her touch bringing me back from the edge. "I think I want to find out what I'm having."
My chest gives a little squeeze at the thought. At knowing a little more about who I'll be watching grow. "Yeah?"
She nods, her head rocking against my chest. "Green is my favorite color, but I feel like it would be easy to have too much of a good thing."
I lift a hand, tracing along her pretty face. "True." And then for some reason I add on, "Plus, it will be easier for you to pick what color you want me to paint the baby's room."
19
Mariah
Iknew the reason Titus hid himself away would be painful, but this goes far beyond pain. Hearing what happened to his fiancée and baby is heartbreaking. Agonizing.
Unbearable.
I bear it anyway. Inhaling carefully so my breath doesn’t hitch. So he doesn’t have to deal with my tears in addition to his own suffering. I won’t do that to him.
I’m used to sucking it up and slapping on a smile, but this time it’s different. This time it’s not because I’m hiding my feelings—even if I am. It’s because I’m protecting Titus’s. Giving his emotions the space they need to exist. To expand, unhindered by the confines of my own.
I swallow hard, imagining how difficult it was for him to get that envelope from a medical examiner instead of an ultrasound tech. Resting one hand over his heart like I can hold the broken pieces of it together, I ask, "Did you pick out names?"
I don’t know if anyone ever makes space for him to talk about the child he lost. It’s probably an emotional subject for his family since they suffered a loss as well. I want to make that space for him. Let him remember both the baby and Kara without being smothered by someone else’s grief.
Titus clears his throat, but his voice is still rough when he says, "Elizabeth if it was a girl and Ethan if it was a boy."
I manage a small smile at that. "Were you going to use all E names for your kids?"
"We were."
His and Kara’s decision to use a version of his parents’ naming convention shows how thought out their life together was. How much they’d planned. Discussed.
And then it all fell apart, leaving Titus alone in the ashes.
I stroke down the front of his chest, wanting to soothe him. Needing to feel like I’m doing something to ease the suffering he’s wallowed in. And maybe the best way to do that is to lead him out of it. At least for now. "I think I want to find out what I'm having."
Titus seems relieved at the slight change of subject, his shoulders sloping as he releases a breath. "Yeah?"
I nod, letting myself think about a future with my baby in a tangible way for the first time. "Green is my favorite color, but I feel like it would be easy to have too much of a good thing."
Titus brings a hand to my face, stroking over my skin with a gentle touch. "True." Then he shocks me by saying, "Plus, it will be easier for you to pick what color you want me to paint the baby’s room."
My mouth opens, but I have no clue what to say to that, so I clamp it shut.
Titus has spent a shit ton of money over the past month furnishing his main floor—especially the kitchen—but that benefited him too. And it didn’t technically change anything. Just filled in some blanks. Painting a room is a little different. It might not be structural, but it’s still a pretty permanent change. One that would dedicate an entire room to Peanut.
This time it’s my turn to clear my throat. “I just assumed the baby would stay with me in my rooms.”
I’ve worked so hard at not letting my hopeful tendencies get out of hand, I haven’t really thought about what will happen asthe baby grows—both while Peanut’s still inside and when they come out. I didn’t schedule a doctor’s appointment. I don’t own a single piece of maternity wear. I haven’t bought the first sleeper or onesie…
I figured out a way to be as financially secure as possible, and then just… stopped. Pretended I didn’t have stretch marks and late-night feedings breathing down my neck. That my life wouldn’t completely encroach on Titus’s way of living.
So I guess I was still letting my hopeful tendencies have free reign after all.
Titus’s green gaze levels on me. “That will only work for so long. At some point, the baby will need its own space.”
I don’t really want to think about that time because the only logical choice is that I’ll have to move out. Try to find an affordable apartment in a teeny, tiny town. I’ll end up right back where I started.
