“Stop lying.”
He’s taken aback. “I’m not lying.”
I turn my head, suddenly unable to look at him. Every breath feels like I’m dragging broken glass through my lungs. The anger has come out of nowhere, making me feel small and embarrassed but at the same time helpless to stop it.
“Please look at me,” he says softly.
But I can’t. I don’t know why. All I know is there’s this cynicalvoice in my head telling me that the grief I see in his eyes isn’t real. It’s fake. That what he’s really feeling is relief.
“It’s fine, Wyatt,” I mumble. “You don’t have to pretend.”
His hand finds my chin, gently forcing my head toward him. The shock and hurt on his face evoke a rush of guilt, but the fear has already taken hold, coiling inside my chest like a boa constrictor.
“You didn’t want this,” I say. “Not really. It’s okay to admit that.”
“That’s not true. Neither of us even knew what we wanted. We agreed to decide after the scan.”
I wrap my arms around myself and dig my nails into my skin, trying to steady myself. “It’s fine,” I repeat. “You pretended to be cool with it for me, and I appreciate that, but—”
“Stop saying that,” he interrupts, and his voice breaks. “I wasn’t pretending.”
He’slying. He has to be. Hehasto be breathing easier without the weight of a baby crushing down on him. I’m not a fool. Any man would be relieved, andespeciallya man who’s had commitment issues his entire life.
“I was at peace with either option,” Wyatt says softly. “I promise you that.”
My throat closes around a sob. “You’re saying that because it’s what I need to hear right now.”
His eyes search mine. I sense his frustration, his panic. He pries my hand out of my death grip on myself and squeezes it tight.
“I know what you’re doing, and I understand why, but please don’t shut me out. I’m here with you. Right here with you. Always.”
I shrug my hand away. “Can you go get my mom?”
Wyatt flinches as if I struck him. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Please.” I twist my face away from him, the tears soaking the pillow. “I just want my mom.”
Chapter 48
WYATT
BLAKE IS DISCHARGED FROM THE hospital less than twenty-four hours after being admitted. It seems too soon for me, but apparently this is a common surgery, so minimally invasive she’ll barely have a scar. Nonetheless, I don’t like the idea of sending her home when she’s still so fragile. Everything makes her cry, even leaving the hospital. She has to be in a wheelchair because it’s policy, and when a mother and her young son can’t fit onto the elevator and say, “We’ll take the next one,” Blake bursts into tears because there was no room.
My mom tells me it’s completely normal. Blake’s hormone levels are dropping, and it can take weeks for what I’m told is the “pregnancy hormone” to leave her system. But it’s hard to watch. No, it’s excruciating, especially when she barely looks at me. Barely talks to me. We haven’t even been alone since she accused me of pretending to be cool with the pregnancy and then chose to seek comfort from her mom rather than me.
I’m trying not to take it personally. Blake is close with her mom, and I know Grace is her support system—it’s only natural she’s leaningon her.
But I wish she would lean on me, even just a little.
The day after she’s discharged, I decide to fix her some lunch and see if she’ll eat it outside with me on the deck like we used to do. She hasn’t left her room since she got back from the hospital.
Mom finds me in the kitchen, smiling at the sight. “He’s cooking.”
“He’s cooking,” I confirm. “Well, sort of. It’s just grilled cheese.”
I lift the sandwich out of the pan with a spatula and set it down on the plate. As I grab a knife and prepare to cut the grilled cheese in half, a memory surfaces, making me glance over at my mom.
“Hey, remember that time I asked you and Dad why you cut diagonally and not directly in half, and you said it’s because diagonally means you love the person?” I snort. “And then Dad made us grilled cheese that one time and purposely served everyone but me a diagonal cut?”
