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As her voice trails off, I sigh, every cell in my body dying to get up and walk around the table to comfort her but she would hate it so I don’t.

“I’m so sorry, Izzy.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry for me,” she snaps, looking away from me as she reaches down and cradles her belly. “I just want you to understand why getting pregnant now… it threw me for a loop and I needed time to cope with the news. I didn’t know if I even wanted a baby because I spent so long thinking I couldn’t have one and I designed my life around that lie.”

“Are you saying you almost had an abortion?” I ask, my heart racing at the thought that she might have killed my child before I even knew it existed. She stares down at the table and nods. I’ve known my fair share of pain in my life but this… this is stronger than any other agony I’ve gone through and I grit my teeth at the thought that this baby was almost ripped away from me. “You had no fucking right, Izzy.”

“I’m not saying you didn’t deserve to be in on the conversation and I am truly sorry for that but I am the one carrying this baby so ultimately, it was my decision.”

I shove my chair back and stand up, running my hand through my hair as I pace back and forth, glancing at her and trying to understand what she was thinking. The thought of losing this baby that I’ve wanted for such a long time is unimaginable. My chest aches, my stomach twists, and my mind spins with the fact that I could have lost this. I clench my fist at my side and run my other hand through my hair again, giving it a tug.

“You should have told me from the very beginning, Izzy. I should have been involved in all this and it’s so fucked up that you kept this from me.”

She nods.

“Why? Why the fuck didn’t you just come talk to me?”

Her breathing stutters and I stop, mid-stride, as I turn to look at her. Tears are shining in her eyes but she refuses to meet my gaze, staring just past me into the kitchen.

“I was scared, okay?”

I round the table, a pang in my chest, and kneel down next to her chair before gripping her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “I could have been here for you, Iz. We could have gone through this together and you could have leaned on me when you were scared. You didn’t have to be alone.”

“I…” she whispers, her eyes locked on mine and more vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. Ali’s words ring in my head again and I know without a shadow of a doubt that she was right. Izzy has her reasons for everything she does, including the decision to keep me in the dark for so long. She opens her mouth again to speak and I hold my breath, hoping she’ll open up to me but the shutters come down, locking away her emotions as she presses her lips into a line and lifts her chin, defiant as always. “I’m fine. I can handle this on my own, which brings me to my next point. If this isn’t what you want, if having a baby wasn’t part of your plan, I’m giving you an out.”

“What?”

“You’re off the hook, Diego. I can handle raising this baby by myself so if you’d rather not be involved, that’s okay, too.”

I shoot up, resisting the urge to throw something as I turn away from her. “Shut the fuck up, Izzy. I’m not going anywhere and you will not shut me out again.”

“In that case,” she murmurs, grabbing my hand and I whip back toward her before dropping my gaze to our hands as she releases me. “I have a doctor’s appointment on Monday. Do you want to come with me?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

Silence descends over us again and I turn toward the door, needing a little fresh air and time to think because this fucking woman is about to do my head in.

Chapter Nine

Isabelle

“Kristen,” a nurse calls from the open doorway as she scans the waiting room. Her gaze drops to the patient file in her hand before she looks up to search the room again. “Kristen Moniz.”

A woman sitting next to the front door of the building stands up awkwardly, her large belly hindering her movements and when she finally manages to get herself upright, she lets out a heavy breath like she just accomplished a large feat. Although, with as far along as she is, I suppose she did. Our little baby fires off a couple of fierce kicks to my belly and I fight back a smile as I cover the spot with my hand. When Ali was pregnant with all three of her girls and nearing the end of her pregnancies, I listened to her bitch about her aching back, her sore feet, how often she had to get up in the middle of the night to pee, and how huge she felt for hours. Despite that, I’m so excited to get to that point. Not that I will revel in the aching back or the sore, swollen feet but just the thought of finally getting to meet my baby makes me feel downright giddy.

The baby kicks again and I move my hand to the new spot as thoughts of the baby I lost years ago pop into my mind and my chest aches. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip to keep the tears at bay, I take a deep breath and blow it out slowly as I close my eyes. There are days when it feels like a lifetime ago that I said good-bye to a child I never got the opportunity to meet and other times, it’s like it just happened all over again and I’m right back in that hospital room, screaming for my dead baby. So many times I’ve wondered what he or she would have looked like, what their voice would have sounded like, and who they would be today but no matter what I do, I can’t picture them and it kills me. When I found out I was pregnant this time around, one of the first things I thought was that I couldn’t go through that pain again and it’s still something that scares the hell out of me. Each time I come in for an appointment, there is a part of me that’s holding my breath, waiting for the doctor to tell me that everything looks good and that my baby is alive and healthy.

“You okay?” Diego whispers, leaning close from his seat next to me so the other people in the room don’t overhear us and I nod as I open my eyes again, shoving the painful memories from my mind. He offers me his hand and I stare at it for a moment, my own twitching with the need to connect them. A flutter dances through my chest and I clench my fist instead as I glance up at him, my brow furrowed.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs. “Offering to hold your hand… for support.”

“I don’t need support,” I scoff, turning away from him and crossing my arms over my chest as it aches with my lie. “I can take care of myself.”

“Shut up, Izzy,” he sighs, pulling his hand back and closing his eyes as he leans his head against the wall behind us. I take advantage of the opportunity to study him as my thoughts spin. It’s been an awkward two days since our “come to Jesus” talk and we’ve spent most of our time avoiding each other as much as we could but that hasn’t been easy. Diego insisted on giving up his room for me and he’s been crashing on the couch, since his spare bedrooms don’t actually have any furniture in them, which means that I can’t leave the room without our paths crossing.

Which is a damn problem.