21. Delphine #2
When I finally went over, it was nothing like the car and nothing like the horse. It was slow and enormous and it took me apart in long deep pulls, and I said his name into his mouth like it was the only word I had left.
He let go with me, buried as deep as he could get, a low broken sound against my hair and his whole big body shaking with it, holding himself inside me like he could not stand the thought of any space between us.
Afterward he did not move for a long time. He stayed exactly where he was, propped on his forearms so his weight stayed off the baby, and looked down at me like I was the one possession he had almost lost and only just got back. Which I suppose is precisely what I was.
When he finally rolled to the side, he pulled me with him, tucking me against his chest. I rested my head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat slowly return to normal. His hand found my stomach again and settled there, standing guard over both of us.
“That was...” I couldn’t find the words.
“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “It really was.”
We lay there in the moonlight, our bodies tangled together, the room quiet except for the sound of our breathing. I felt peaceful in a way I hadn’t felt in months. Safe. Loved. Home.
“I’m excited about expanding our family,” he said softly. “I know that might sound strange, given everything that’s happened. But I am. I’m excited and terrified and so grateful that you’re giving me this chance.”
“I’m excited too.”
“Are you? Really?”
I tilted my head to look at him. “I was so scared when I found out. I was scared you wouldn’t want this. Scared I would be doing it alone. Scared that bringing a child into a broken marriage would only make everything worse.”
“And now?”
“Now I can’t imagine doing it without you. I can’t imagine our baby not having you as a father. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”
He smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Open and vulnerable and full of hope.
“I love you,” he said.
The words hung in the air between us. He had said them before, many times over the years, but tonight they felt different. Tonight they felt like a vow, like a promise, like the first line of a new chapter.
I took a breath. For the first time since the break, I let myself say the words I had been holding back. The words I had been too scared, too hurt, too proud to admit.
“I love you too.”
His whole face changed. The hope that had been living in his eyes for weeks finally bloomed into a brighter, unguarded look, one that came very close to relief.
“Say it again.”
“I love you.” I cupped his jaw, tracing the line of it with my fingertips. “I love you, Heath. I never stopped. I was just too hurt to admit it. Too scared that saying it would make me vulnerable again.”
“You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
“I know. I’m starting to believe that.”
He kissed me then, soft and sweet and full of promise. When he pulled back, there were tears in his eyes, and he didn’t try to hide them.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for coming back to me. Thank you for giving me another chance. Thank you for loving me even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“You deserve it. You’ve always deserved it. We just forgot for a while.”
I curled against him, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped tight around me. For the first time in months, I felt truly safe. Protected. I let myself believe that everything would be okay, that we had made it through the worst of it, that our future was finally beginning.
I fell asleep with a smile on my face, Heath’s heartbeat steady beneath my ear, our baby safe between us.
***
The sound of shattering glass jolted me awake.
I sat up, my heart pounding, my eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. The last of the light had gone behind clouds, and the room was pitch black except for the faint glow of the clock on the nightstand.
4:07 a.m.
The house was silent except for the echo of that terrible sound still ringing in my ears. Breaking glass. Loud and close. Somewhere on the first floor.
“Heath?” I whispered.
He was already moving, already on his feet.
I heard him drag on the pants he had left on the floor, heard the rustle of him hunting for a shirt to put on his back and giving up.
I got out of bed and grabbed the first fabric my hands found, which was his shirt from the dinner, still warm and smelling of him and half missing its buttons from the stairs, and I pulled it on and buttoned what was left.
Even then. Even with glass breaking under my own floor, some idiot part of my brain thought, you cannot meet a burglar naked.
“Did you hear that?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Stay here.” His voice had dropped low, a tone I had never heard from him before. “Lock the door behind me. Call the police. Do not come out, no matter what you hear. Do you understand?”
“Heath, wait. You can’t just go down there alone. We don’t know who-”
“Promise me, Del.” He was at the door now, one hand on the knob, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. “Promise me you’ll stay here. Promise me you’ll keep yourself and our baby safe.”
My hand went to my stomach. Our baby. Our child, growing inside me, depending on me to protect it.
“I promise.”
He nodded once, then slipped through the door and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.
I reached for my phone with shaking hands. I dialed 911. I reported the break-in, gave them the address, answered the dispatcher’s questions in a voice I barely recognized as my own. My eyes were fixed on the bedroom door, my ears straining to hear any sound from below.
“Stay on the line, ma’am,” the dispatcher said. “Officers are on their way. Do not try to confront the intruders yourself.”
“My husband went downstairs.”
“Ma’am, I need you to stay where you are. Lock the door if you haven’t already.”
I hadn’t. I had been so focused on the phone call, so focused on Heath disappearing into the dark, that I had forgotten to lock the door behind him.
I moved toward it, the phone still pressed to my ear, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, my hand reaching for the lock.
And then I heard it.
Footsteps. Heavy and deliberate. Coming up the stairs.