The ritual of warming the milk and stirring in the cocoa is soothing as the rich smell of chocolate fills the air. After adding some whipped cream, I cradle the warm mug between my hands and take a slow sip, savoring the sweet taste.
The sun is just starting to rise, so I open up the French doors and step out on the patio, the tiles cold beneath my bare feet.
The cool morning air immediately hits my skin, and I let my eyes flutter closed and take the first deep breath I feel like I’ve taken in hours.
It’s enough to settle my nervous stomach, so I take a few more before sitting down on one of the pool lounge chairs to watch the sunrise as I drink my cocoa.
My free hand rubs my stomach almost instinctively as I settle back in my chair, watching the sun reflect off the water.
It’s hard to believe that, after all of the fear and panic I’ve felt over the past few days, my baby is going to be okay. I haven’t really had a chance to process it, mostly because I had been sosure that I was going to lose the baby that I had barely allowed myself to hope.
And now, as I watch the sun rise, the reality of it hits me for the first time.
I’m going to be a mom.
In a few short months, I’m going to get to hold my baby, a baby that is half me and half Kieran.
But as happy as I am at such a thought, the joy is tangled with dread because I don’t know if I can get through this without Kieran.
I need him. If he isn’t here, if he refuses to forgive me, what do I do? How do I navigate this without him?
I have no choice but to figure out a way to convince Kieran to forgive me, which is going to be hard, considering he’s refusing to speak to me.
As I sip on my hot chocolate, I consider the idea of writing him a letter. If he won’t listen to what I have to say, maybe I could get him to at least read my words instead.
Before I lose my nerve, I head back inside and snatch the notebook and pen that Elena keeps beside the fridge and take a seat at the kitchen table.
My head feels jumbled, and there’s so much I need to say, but I try not to overthink it. I just start writing.
My hand shakes as the words spill out onto the page. I do my best to explain to Kieran how I never meant to hurt him. How I panicked when I heard him tell Brennan that he wasn’t ready to be a father, so I decided to keep the baby a secret. I write it all, hoping that my words come across as sincere and not just a ploy to try and get him back.
I write until I have nearly three pages full of my thoughts and confessions, and by the time I tuck the letter into an envelope and sign Kieran’s name on the front, a strange sense of relief settles over me.
I know a letter isn’t going to change the fact that I lied, but at least my words are out there for him to read if he wants.
I didn’t realize I had been crying again until a stray tear drips down onto the envelope, leaving a dark stain behind.
The sound of heavy footsteps has me quickly wiping at my cheeks just before Ronan appears in the doorway, his brow furrowing at the look on my face. He looks like he’s just finished a workout, as his dark hair is slick with sweat, and his damp t-shirt clings to his body.
“Are you okay?”
“Kieran and I had a fight.”
Ronan’s lips press together, and he nods grimly.
“He can be a stubborn little shit. Do you want me to kick his ass?”
I shake my head as I try to fight the lump in my throat.
Ronan stays quiet as he crosses over to the coffee machine and starts the process of brewing his usual morning espresso.
“Have you spoken to him?” I eventually ask.
He reaches for a cup out of the cabinet overhead. “Not since yesterday morning. Is this your way of gently telling me you killed him?”
When I don’t reply, Ronan turns to face me, leaning against the counter as he folds his arms over his chest.
“Whatever it is that you’re fighting about, you’ll figure it out.”
