I'd flown straight from Northern Europe to Rochester. Work in Manhattan had piled up into a total mess without me. As theboss, face time in the social circles mattered more than remote calls.
The next day, after wrapping up loose ends, I headed to the hospital to see Ella, like always.
Through the ward's small window, my gaze locked on her. She wore a loose beige hoodie, her waistline softer, rounder. It hit me. Two weeks ago, I'd Googled why she was gaining weight, thinking I'd cracked it. Pathetic. If I'd just asked a doctor properly, I wouldn't have dragged this out. I could've been better to her, taken care of her.
I mustered my courage and pushed the door open.
"Ella," I called softly. "Can we talk outside?"
She was sorting Maya's anti-rejection meds. Maya smiled at her, grabbing the pillbox lid. "Go on. I'm not a kid."
Ella grumbled an okay.
We stepped into the hall. She turned her back to me, staring out the window. Sunlight filtered through tree branches, casting a shadow of loneliness across her face.
I hesitated, unsure how to start, but she beat me to it. "You're leaving, aren't you?"
I froze. "How'd you know?"
"It's obvious," she said, turning, looking worn out. "It's in your eyes."
"What's with my eyes?" I trailed off, because hers changed. Those gentle light blue eyes, usually full of warmth, brimmed with sadness, ready to spill. She hid it well, lips pressed tight, but I saw it—reluctance, a plea to stay.
My heart clenched.
I realized, when she looked at me, my eyes probably mirrored the same.
"You still mad at me?" The thought of her being pregnant and us fighting days ago choked me up.
She shook her head. Tears shimmered in her eyes. I couldn't hold back. I pulled her into my arms. Pregnant women gain weight, they say, but Ella felt light, soft. My arms wrapped her back, her forehead against my chest, her breath seeping into my skin. Everything went quiet. Just the faint hum of the heating vents. We held on, like we wanted to melt into each other's bones.
"Company stuff can't wait anymore," I said. "Gotta head back to Manhattan. But I'll be quick."
She stayed silent.
"Ella, look at me."
She did.
I bent down, cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone. Then I kissed her, light, like I might break something precious. Her lips were impossibly soft, tasting faintly of mint.
"I don't want to leave you," I whispered.
"I know," she murmured. "I get it."
"You won't pull that divorce stunt the second I'm gone, right?"
She glared, tears streaking her cheeks, trying to look mad. "Am I that unreasonable?"
I laughed, tweaking her nose. "Nah, you're the most reasonable Mrs. Rockefeller in the world."
That bit of banter lightened the looming goodbye. At least we could laugh and talk like a normal couple.
"Come back with me," I blurted before leaving. "Manhattan's got the best doctors."
"No," she shook her head. "Maya can't handle more upheaval. She loves Rochester, wants to stay."
"Okay," I respected that, like she did my choices. "I'll be back soon."
