“I can’t do this anymore,” I sob, looking at Ellie desperately. “I can’t. Everything feels wrong. Aaron should be here, I should be better at this. It shouldn’t be this hard.”
“I know, my angel,” she says, brushing away the hair plastered to my sweaty forehead. “It shouldn’t be this way. I’m so sorry that it is. What can I do for you?”
“I love you so much, and I’m so glad you’re here,” I choke out. “But can you call him? I need him here, I shouldn’t have told him to go.”
“Oh, my love, I wish I could,” she says, voice breaking. “I wish more than anything that I could call him.”
“Why can’t you?” I ask, confused. “Is he mad at me? He said he’d always come if I called him.”
Her eyes widen as it dawns on her that I’m not talking about Aaron–I’m talking about the other ‘he.’ The ‘he’ who has been nothing but kind and supportive. The ‘he’ I regretted pushing away the second he walked out of the door.
“Okay, my sweet ginger angel,” she says softly. “I’ll be right back, I’ll call him right now.”
I collapse my head onto the pillow, covering my face with my hands and sobbing so violently I fear I might be sick with it. The doctor suggests we take a break for a few contractions, explaining the concept of laboring down and how it can be particularly helpful when you’ve had an epidural.
I can feel the pressure of the next couple contractions, but resist the urge to push. As much as I want Little One to be here, I can’t help but be thankful for the temporary relief. I try to lay as still as possible, focusing on my breathing.
A few moments later, Ellie is back in the room, holding my hand and stroking my face.
“He’s on his way,” she says. “He’ll be here any minute.”
A whimper bursts out of me, and for the first time tonight, I really feel like I might be okay.
Please get here soon.
Chapter 35
Jack
The Birth
“Jack, that is the fifth time you’ve looked at your phone in the last thirty seconds,” Granny huffs. “Why don’t you just go up there?”
“She doesn’t want me there, Granny,” I sigh miserably. “And maybe she’s right. I don’t know what I was thinking, basically moving in with her. I should have known better, should have set better boundaries for both of us.”
“What you were thinking, grandson of mine,” she says, “Is that she asked you to stay. So you did. You saw a friend in need, and you did what you could to help. That’s the way I raised you, and I won’t sit here and listen to you act like you did something wrong.”
“And don’t you go thinking she did anything wrong either,” she says sternly, pointing a finger at me. “Any of it. I don’t care what anyone says, asking you to stay was not inappropriate. And asking you to leave, well.” She purses her lips, choosing her words carefully.
“Well, that’s well within her rights,” she says. “Whether or not that was the wrong choice isn’t up to us. We do funny things in grief, and we can’t pretend to know what she’s feeling.”
“I know, Granny,” I say. “Of course I don’t think she did anything wrong. I just hate to think that I caused her any more pain than she’s already going through. And I’m certainly not going to cause any more by showing up when she clearly doesn’t want me there.”
“Give her some time, sweet pea,” she says, placing her hand on mine. “I don’t think it’ll be forever. That girl loves you, and I know she’s thankful for you.”
Love. The word sends an unnerving jolt of electricity through me.
Of course she loves me. I love her dearly, we’ve been friends for nearly fifteen years.
Except maybe Iloveher.
“I love her, too,” I say simply, not caring to elaborate. Granny gives me a knowing look, and I have a sneaking feeling that she sees more than she lets on.
“Things will work out the way they’re supposed to,” she says matter-of-factly. “Have some faith. Keep showing up. Life has a way of working itself out.”
Just as I open my mouth to finally confess what I’ve been shoving down for months, my phone starts to ring. I look down and see Ellie’s name, and nearly send my phone flying across the room in my haste to answer it.
“Is she okay?” I ask without preamble. “Is the baby here?”
