“Your mother’s not going to allow you to run with that plan. You know that, right?”
“I’m a grown man.”
I sighed. “You’re acting like a child.”
“How do you figure?”
“A grown up takes responsibility for his actions.”
“Which I plan to—I told you my idea! Why are you on me about this?”
“Because I love you and I don’t want to watch you make a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life.”
“Losing you would be a mistake that I would regret for the rest of my life.”
With that comment, I stopped fighting. He shut the conversation down by making it perfectly clear that the only way he would do right by the baby would be if somebody forced it upon him.
Chapter thirty-two
Present
Five minutes later, after a hasty goodbye to Brett, I’m back in the car.
My hand is shaking as I call Matt. It rings four times before his voicemail picks up. This time, I hang up without leaving a message.
I told Matt everything,Leyla said.
Everything?I’d asked.
Everything,Leyla confirmed.
Why?I wondered aloud.
Because I changed my mind,Leyla replied.
I don’t know where I’m driving, but I can’t stay here, on this block. My body trembles. On autopilot, following nothing more than intuition, I head west.
The ride to Bethpage is only seven miles long, but it feels like entering another world. The Thompsons’ neatly manicured lawn boasts the first blooming daffodils of the season, the porch light illuminates the swinging bench that has hung there for as long as I can remember, and the ornamental trees and tufts of tall grass in the evening chill of early spring render a sense of security and safety. I remember coming down this road, sometimes in the back of Mrs. Thompson’s car,sometimes in a taxi from the railroad station. Always, the bucolic quiet of the neighborhood settled my nerves.
If only the same could be true now.
Diana’s Lexus is in the driveway, and the lights are on inside the house. I steel myself as I park the car at the curb, wondering if Matt’s in there.
My heart palpitates as I climb the three steps up to the tastefully decorated front porch.Love lives here, the doormat announces.
Here goes nothing.Ipush my pointer finger into the doorbell.
Diana opens the door, her expression a combination of sad and sorry. “Hi, honey,” she says.
“Hi. Is Matt here?”
She shakes her head. “Not right now. He went for a walk.”
“Oh. Is he okay?”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” she offers, gesturing to the rocking chairs that sit side-by-side on the porch. “Let me just grab my coat.”
I can’t even come in?Still, I oblige, eager for any bits of information I can gather.
