21. SARAH
Slumping against the back of my door, I kick off my flats and enter the kitchen. Opening the fridge, finding bare shelves and rancid leftovers, I close it and stand in front of the cabinet, praying to see something edible inside.
Please. Please. Please.
Swinging open the door, I find one box of instant macaroni and cheese and do a little happy dance.
As I pour the noodles into the pot of boiling water, I hear my phone vibrate on the kitchen island; an unknown number flashes across the screen.
“Hello?” I answer hesitantly.
“Hi, Miss Fleur. This is James down in the lobby.”
“Oh.” Relief fills me from the sweet man’s voice. “Hi, James. How are you?”
“Can’t complain. Gotta lay off the sugar per my wife’s request, but all things considered, I’m good.” I chuckle, stirring the noodles in the water. “We received some heavy deliveries for you, and I was wondering if this would be a good time to bring them up?”
“Yes!” I completely forgot the baby’s furniture was scheduled for delivery today. “That would be great. Thank you!”
An hour later, my living room is overrun with boxes.
Was I under the impression the furniture would be delivered fully assembled?
Yes, I absolutely was.
No matter. I can put it together myself. I’m sure it won’t be too difficult to do.
Gazing around at what my emergency credit card bought me, I feel good about how it was spent.
And I’m so ready to tell Paul.
I just really hope that after I explain everything to him, he understands why it took me so long to tell him.
I shake my head, catching a glimpse of myself in the window. Instinctively, I raise my T-shirt and observe myself, noting the beginning of an official baby bump. It’s small and barely noticeable. Most would probably think I looked like I ate a burrito or two for lunch. I’m sure when Paul saw my body on Thanksgiving, he assumed I was just bloated from all of the food. But I wasn’t. I’m just pregnant and so happy as I see the light at the end of the long tunnel.
Everything feels like it’s finally coming together.
My eyes water as a smile blooms across my face, and my hand slides protectively over my stomach.
“So soon, I’m telling your daddy everything. He thinks we’re going on a normal date tomorrow night, but that’s when I plan on telling him all about you right after Glen deletes the video. And everything will be okay. I promise.”
Although, I am fully prepared to give Paul an out.
I’ll understand if he wants nothing to do with me or the baby. I’ll have to.
But I’m not going to lie and say it doesn’t hurt to think he might choose to leave…like everyone else in my life has done.
I shake my head, not wanting to go down that road tonight.
There’s no use worrying over something that hasn’t even happened yet.
After eating every last drop of the macaroni and cheese, I get down to business by opening all the cardboard boxes and removing each piece and tool. Seeing everything laid out leaves me feeling utterly overwhelmed as I still try to convince myself this will be a piece of cake.
I can do this!
But as one hour turns into two and then three, I realize I can’t, in fact, do this myself.
Frustrated tears cascade down my cheeks as I throw the mini wrench on the floor. My fists clench by my side as I look around at the disaster site that has taken over my living room. A crib with no side rails stands tilted on one side of the room, a rocking chair that doesn’t rock sits in the corner, a baby changing table is in pieces across the floor, and a car seat that I already know I won’t understand how to put in my car sits in its box, taunting me.
I failed.
I can’t do this.
How will I be a good mom when I can’t even read simple directions?
I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming. What am I supposed to—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
My eyes bounce to the closed door. Who the hell could that be?
I grab my phone from my pocket and see it’s just after ten p.m.
Tiptoeing to the door, I’m just about to look through the peephole when the deep timbre of his voice stops me in my tracks.
“Hey, Sarah, it’s Paul. We need to talk.”
I frantically wipe at my tears and push back loose strands of hair that escaped my ponytail. After spending the night trying to assemble a nursery, I look like a hot mess with sweat running down my temple and over my back. Not to mention, my cheeks are probably crimson from heat exhaustion. And as if on cue, my stomach rumbles, alerting me that my baby and I are hungry…again!
The nutrition label on the box of macaroni and cheese was a lie. It wasn’t three servings. It was barely even one.
Knock. Knock.“Sarah?”
This can’t be happening.
Left with no other option, I walk over to the door. Taking a deep breath, I open the door just a few inches, intending to hide the catastrophe behind me.
“Hey, Paul. What are you doing here?” I forge a smile, hoping he won’t see through it.
His eyes examine me, concern etched all over his facial features. “You want to tell me what this is.” He holds up Greyson’s phone while his eyes look me up and down, observing my appearance. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I…umm.” Of course, fucking Glen told him. I was stupid for thinking he wouldn’t. “Actually, no. I’m not feeling that great. You should probably go so you don’t catch whatever I have.”
He watches me silently until he finally says, “What’s going on?”
I shake my head. “Nothing. Like I said, I’m just not feeling well.”
He lightly pushes on the door, but I keep my foot behind it, not letting it budge while gripping my hands on the edge for backup.
“What are you hiding?”
“Hiding? I’m not hiding any—”
“Is someone in there?” he asks, his eyes darkening.
Okay, now I’m pissed.
“Are you accusing me of hiding someone in here?” I ask, defiantly crossing my arms over my chest and moving my foot to jut out my hip. In hindsight, this is where I made my mistake. Because just as I jut out my hip, removing my foot from behind the door, Paul pushes it open, and there’s nothing I can do to make it stop.
“Wait, Paul!”
But it’s too late.
He bypasses me as he steps inside, eerily silent, his eyes scanning the room. Every damn piece of baby furniture is on display for him to see.
His silence begins to suffocate me.
“It’s not what you think,” I say meekly.
“So, you’re not pregnant?” he asks.
I yank at the hem of my shirt, eyeing the ground. “Okay, so maybe it’s exactly what you think.”
Paul spins towards me, his eyes bulging wide and his mouth agape.
I shuffle my foot, biting my bottom lip. I don’t know what to say. This wasn’t at all how I planned on telling him the news. “Do you want to sit?” I motion toward the couch, where he drops down.
He slides Greyson’s phone on the coffee table and rests his elbows on his knees, holding his head between his hands.
After a few minutes of insufferable silence, he asks, “How far along are you?”
“Umm.” It’s time to tell him the truth. He deserves the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I let out an anxious sigh. “Almost sixteen weeks.”
His eyes shoot up to mine. “Am I…the father?”
My shoulders drop as I nod, looking at the floor through a blurry lens.
“And how long have you known?” he stresses through clenched teeth.
I hesitate before softly saying, “Three months.”
His eyes blaze with fury as he stands, turns away from me, and walks over to the barely standing crib. He looks down at the baby mattress and slams his fist on it, the whole thing falling to the floor.
Well, there goes at least two hours of my life.
I rub my forehead. The headache increases with each passing second.
“So, were you ever planning to tell me, or were you just going to keep this a secret from me forever?” His voice is lethally low, spiked with…pain…because of me.
“I was going to tell you, I swear. I just—”
He spins around, looking at me as though I’m the last person on Earth he wants to see. And it breaks me.
“You just what? You’ve known for three months. Three months! And you never said anything to me. Not once. And then I come here to find this”—he waves his hand around the room—“fucking baby furniture.” He looks away, running his hand over his head before squeezing his neck. “I have told you everything. Everything. About how important family is to me. About my dad. My fears and insecurities. Trying over and over again to knock down that damn wall you keep up between us. And I thought…I thought I had finally made some progress. I thought the wall was crumbling.” His head tilts down, and the dejected look on his face is one I will never be able to forget. “I opened up to you because I trusted you with everything, including my heart.” He shakes his head, staring at me like he has no idea who I am.
Tears pour down my cheeks, and I can’t rein them in. I sniffle, trying as hard as I can to make them stop, but I fucking can’t. And I deserve to feel this way. I deserve every ounce of this viselike grip squeezing my chest because I hurt this man. This amazing man who would part the seas for me if I asked him to is standing before me in agony, all because of me.
But what he says next makes my heart fragment into a thousand tiny, jagged pieces.
“I need to go.” He walks around me toward the door, no longer looking at me.
“Wait, Paul! Please don’t go. Let’s not leave it like this. Can we please talk?” I swipe at the tears on my face with trembling hands. “I can explain everything if you just let me—”
The door slams behind him right in my face.
My knees fall to the floor.
A sob takes over my body.
My chest clenches where my heart resides.
He let me go.