Chapter 26 #2
I pick up a stuffed owl and clock him on the head, which he deserves. Fitz wraps his arms around my waist from behind and walks me through the room, showing me all the tiny details—diapers in drawers and organized by size, packages of wipes ready to go in the warmer, a nightlight that plays music.
“I started putting stuff together and realized that baby gear brings out a very industrious side of me. Do you know how much fun I had with that tiny little Allen wrench putting all this furniture together? Honey, I had no idea it could be so much fun to follow a manual of pictures that make no sense when everything is for our baby.”
I turn, throw my arms around his neck, and squeeze him. He brushes away the tendrils of hair that have wriggled free of my ponytail.
“I was worried you had cold feet.”
“Not when it comes to our baby. Do you think a few boxes would be enough to veer me off our plan? We're going to be parents. You can trust me.”
Endorphins flood my system, and I feel relieved that he still wants to be here for the baby. And it’s fully clear that it’s only the baby he wants. Not me.
My eyes sweep around the room again, noticing a small spinning lantern that throws lighted stars onto the walls. “Oh my god, Fitz, this is amazing. You should see what I have at my house. Nothing's ready. Nothing's painted. It's a total and utter disaster.”
“Calm down. Next time I drive to LA, we'll get it all set up. I don't want you lifting a finger. You can sit in the rocking chair that we got for your house and sip lemonade while I get my ya-ya's building more shit.”
“You have got yourself a deal, cowboy.”
I regret now that I didn't stop for a sweet snack or treat. I’m craving sugar, and I want to give Fitz something to show how much I appreciate him. He must sense the dispirited feeling I have because he runs a hand over my cheek and cups my chin, tilting it up toward his face.
“This is all I need. Duchess. just you and me in a room that's ready for a baby.”
“You don't need the baby?” I joke.
“Well, sure, but I know that it's too soon for that. I can wait until that bun is fully baked.”
I pat my stomach, already in love with the little bun. Fitz puts his hand over mine. It's almost like the baby knows he's there because it rolls and kicks.
Fitz locks eyes with mine, and I see something different from the way he usually looks at me. Something more like reverence. Or maybe love.
At least, that’s what I know I feel. And each day I spend with Fitz leaves me feeling more empty afterward, more sad about the kind of family we’ll never be.
“Do you think it’s gonna be okay for our baby to have a non-traditional family?” I ask.
Fitz doesn’t respond right away, and I almost think he didn’t hear my question. Then he takes my hand. “I think our baby is going to be so loved that none of the rest will matter. We’re both from imperfect families. We turned out okay.”
“True. We did,” I say. But maybe I want our baby to be more than okay. I move in front of Fitz and put my arms around his waist, which is harder with my belly between us. He meets my eyes again, and I see it once more—a look that communicates something deeper than friendship.
Desire. Warmth. Love.
I want all of that from him.
I need to tell him how I feel.
Do I?
I’d be asking him to go back on all of our promises to each other, things I made him swear to because I felt so sure. I don’t want him to think I’m going back on my word, but things change. We’ve changed.
Haven’t we?
His face dips closer to mine. We’re a breath away from connecting, and his starved, intense look says his resistance hangs by a tensile thread. My doubts fall away. If I kiss him now, it won’t be an invitation for a fun, casual hookup. It will be proof of everything I want.
My heart thrums like horse hooves, and I lick my lips, arching my neck to get closer to him.
I feel his breath on my skin, and I want his lips on mine…
A jarring ringtone tears through the air between us, and we both freeze. It rings again, a specific jangling series of tones which Fitz recognizes. He sighs. “It’s my brother.”
I nod, trying to replace my regret with understanding.
“Hang on. I need to take this.” I share the anguish in his face, feel each deep crease in his forehead. But I get it. Family comes before everything else.
As soon as he answers, his voice takes a different tone, more serious than he was a moment ago, and laced with pain that’s different from when he pushes me on his water needs. That feels like business. This sounds intensely personal.
“Hey.” He takes a few steps away, but he can’t go far. I look away, trying to give him some space, but I’m curious. “Yeah…no, don’t do that…I’m serious. Can you just stay there a minute? I’ll be right over.”
I can only hear his end of the call, but I can see his face clearly, his forehead creased with lines, and his mouth turned down. It’s not his usual scowl—that’s easy to manage compared with the pain in his face now as he swallows hard.
I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s clear that something is very wrong.