CHAPTER 52 Sophie Summers
Bonding
Since I’ve only lived in San Diego since March and my annual appointments all take place in January, I haven’t taken the time to find doctors here in town. But I know someone in the medical field who has lived here her entire life, which means I have the inside track.
I text rather than call.
Me: Hey, my annual is coming up. Do you have a local GYN you’d recommend?
Cassie writes back immediately with a name and phone number, and I’ve never been more grateful that I have a friend here. And then she sends another message.
Cassie: She’s the best around, so she fills up quick. I’m not sure if she’s taking new patients, but I can ask.
Me: I can just call and find out. Thanks.
Before she replies, I dial the number.
“Primrose for Women, please hold.”
Of course.
I hold and hold and hold some more before she comes back.
“How can I help you? ”
“Hi. I think I might be pregnant, and I’m new to the area. A friend recommended your office. Are you taking new patients?”
“Drs. Maddox and Thorpe are not, but I can get you in with Dr. Kacey this Thursday at nine fifteen.”
Dr. Maddox was the one Cassie recommended, but that’s okay. This Thursday is my book release. I don’t go to Vegas until Friday, so that should work.
Great, birthing a book and finding out more about birthing a kid all on the same day. Just what I was planning when I picked July thirtieth as my release date.
“That would be great, thank you.”
She takes some of my information down, tells me to complete the new patient packet on their website, and we hang up.
I immediately run to my computer and fill out the paperwork, and I realize I’m absolutely starving—as if the rolling over of my stomach has ceased and now it’s angry for food.
I make some eggs and munch on cheese while I wait for the eggs to cook, and I stare at my phone as I will it to ring.
I wonder what Miller’s doing right now. Is he in a meeting? At practice? Sleeping in?
I’d know if he called or communicated with me in any way, but all I have to go on is that one text from last night.
And that’s how I spend my day.
I shoot him a text around lunchtime, figuring at the very least that he’s awake.
Me: Hope today is going well. I miss you.
I don’t get a reply for hours, and when it comes, it’s another vague one.
Miller: Sorry I missed your call. My phone stays in my hotel room during practice. Today is going well. Miss you too .
I take the text back as my sign that he’s available to talk, and I hit the call button. I really just need to hear his voice.
But I get voicemail.
I tell myself maybe he just hopped in the shower or something after he clicked send. I can tell myself all I want, though. It doesn’t mean I believe a second of it.
I hate being this whiny girl obsessing over her man, so I decide to text Cassie.
Me: You around tonight?
Cassie: I’ve got baseball practice with Luca. You’re more than welcome to come hang out with Lily and me.
Yeah, no thanks.
I try Grace next.
Me: Are you around tonight? Want to grab dinner?
Grace: I’m not! Sorry! I flew up to Minnesota for a few days. Next week?
I reply with some vague response, and I sigh as I let that sting of loneliness wash over me.
Is this the kind of life I want? Chasing after Miller, who can’t be bothered to communicate more than a few words at a time. Raising a baby largely on my own as I wait for him to come home.
No. It’s not the life I want. It’s not the life I dreamed of.
I miss the Miller who was my book boyfriend. I miss the guy who performed acts of service without me ever having to ask him because he just knew how to speak my love language.
And so I take that loneliness, open my laptop, and channel all my feelings into my characters.
I find myself with great intentions to work, and instead, I’m navigating away from my document and opening a browser.
I search two weeks pregnant to see what comes up.
I start to study and learn. I start to feed the part of myself that feels clueless. I start to feel even more overwhelmed, but being equipped with knowledge is one small way to try to combat that overwhelm.
I spend the day doing none of the tasks on my to-do list and instead try to learn everything I can about the first few weeks of pregnancy.
I realize I have graphics to make, posts to schedule, and ads to run. But all of that seems to take a backseat to the fact that I’m going to be a mother in thirty-eight weeks or less.
The very thought of that causes the panic to rise once again in the back of my throat like bile. The urge to talk to Miller overwhelms me, and I think it’s because I need to hear his voice to make me feel like we’re going to be okay.
And so I try calling him again after dinner.
“Hey!” he answers. He sounds…jovial?
“Hey. I miss you.”
“Same. It’s been a wild forty-eight hours, but Coach just gave us an hour to bond with our teammates.”
I hear laughter in the background, and a male voice mocks Miller. “Yeah, we’re bonding all right.”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Bonding.” His answer is short.
“What does that mean?”
I hear a group of people cheering.
“I should go,” he says. “I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?”
He ends the call, and I fling my phone onto the table. I just wanted to hear his voice to help myself feel a little better, and instead, hearing it just made me feel worse.
It made me angry. It made me lonely.
He’s never given me any reason to feel that way, but not being able to share this news with him is tearing me apart. The truth is that he won’t always be available for me. He’ll always have to put his work ahead of me.
Ahead of us .
And that just leads me full circle back to the scary question.
How am I supposed to do this alone?