Chapter 10 Ivy
IVY
I don’t know how long I’ve sat here, staring at the avocado on the counter or the note next to it.
Minutes.
Hours.
It definitely feels like it’s been closer to hours.
Or maybe I’ve just been in some sort of alternative reality where time doesn’t exist.
That’s certainly how it has felt since Doctor Christian told me about the baby yesterday…
And since I saw him.
Like I’m existing in some strange alternate reality where what’s up is down, what’s left is right, and where something that was supposed to be impossible is suddenly happening.
My hand settles over my stomach, but my focus stays on the green fruit and the words written across two Post-its beside it in Cam’s handwriting.
The baby is the size of an avocado at 16 weeks. They’re good for fetal development and contain healthy fats. There’s a bag of them in the fridge.
(Along with something else for dinner.)
Tears blur his message, but I don’t have to see it to feel its weight.
Cam left that doctor’s office and looked this up…
I told him I hated him.
And he went and did that.
Then came and did this while I was at work today.
Why does that make me feel like the bad guy when all this anguish happened because of him?