Then I walk around the room, my adrenaline in high gear.
I think about that little girl—my daughter—sitting on the floor, laughing and coloring.
All the time with her I missed.
Ultrasounds.
Doctor appointments.
Her first birthday.
Bedtime stories.
“You took that time from me,” I say quietly.
She sobs softly. “I wouldn’t have if I had known?—”
“But you did,” I whisper.
I feel like I’m getting smothered by my emotions right now, and I can hardly breathe.
“I need—” I stop, breathing deeply. “I need to get some air.”
“Liam, please,” she says, reaching out for me.
I hold out my arm. “I can’t do this right now.”
“You’re just going to walk out then?”
“I don’t walk out on people, Alie. You do.”
I know it’s a low blow, but I’ve never been angrier than I am right now.
“And I’m not walking out on her—I would never. I’m walking out before I say something I can’t take back.”
She takes a step toward me. “Can’t we just?—”
I pick up my bag, and my hand pauses on the handle.
“Not right now,” I say, firmly.
“She has your smile, you know?” she says softly.
That nearly does me in. I close my eyes, jaw clenching, fighting off the tears threatening to fall.
Then I open the door and walk out.
Presley is in the hallway with Sera in her arms, smiling, but it drops the second she sees me.
I turn away quickly because if I don’t, I won’t leave.
So, I keep walking. Past the offices, past people milling around in the lobby, and out the main door.
The air outside hits my lungs like a shock.
I don’t remember calling for a car.
I just know that I’m sitting in the back, squeezing my hands so tight that my knuckles are starting to ache.
