Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
AUbrEY
By ten thirty on Monday morning, I feel no better than I did Saturday night.
Dean is now at work.
The apartment feels different without him, although nothing inside it has changed. Everything looks exactly as it did before Saturday night … but the warmth has gone out of it.
Liana sits on the rug in front of me, holding a soft fabric block between both hands. She turns it slowly, studying each brightly colored side before attempting to push the entire thing into her mouth.
“No,” I tell her gently, reaching forward to lower it. “We don’t eat blocks.”
I replace the block with a rubber teething ring and watch her immediately bring it to her mouth. Her small body relaxes once she gets what she wants, and she leans heavily against my leg, as though she has never questioned whether I will still be sitting here when she needs me.
I run my fingers lightly over the soft curls beginning to form near the back of her head.
“You make everything complicated—you know that?”
Liana continues chewing.
“You were supposed to be a job.”
The words come out as little more than a whisper.
“I was supposed to help your dad figure things out for a while, find something in my field, and move on with my life.”
She reaches for my pajama pants and curls her fingers into the fabric.
I place my hand over hers. “Then you had to make me love you.”
My voice breaks. “And he had to do the same thing.”
I look toward the hallway before I can stop myself, as though Dean might somehow appear there despite being at work.
I woke before my alarm this morning after spending most of the night drifting in and out of shallow sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard his voice again.
“I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Love you and survive it.”
The longer the silence stretches between us, the more impossible it becomes to pretend that Saturday night was only a moment of panic.
Dean loves me. He also believes loving me may destroy him.
I’m not sure which truth will win.
Liana drops the teething ring and lets out an irritated grunt. I pick it up, wipe it against my shirt, and return it to her.
“You’re lucky your problems are easy.”
She smiles around the rubber ring, and I try to smile back.
At eleven, I take Liana into the kitchen for her bottle. I warm it while she watches every movement with the serious concentration she reserves for food.
She drinks greedily, one hand resting against my chest.
My phone vibrates on the table. My heart jumps so violently that Liana startles in my arms.
“Sorry.”
I reach for it with one hand, nearly knocking over my water glass in my hurry.
The notification is an email. A response to one of the applications I submitted a couple of weeks ago.
For several seconds, I stare at the subject line—Interview Availability.
I look down at Liana and feel something hollow open inside me.
The job is with a graphic design company in Chicago.
I applied before Dean and I were serious, before I thought we had a chance at being a real couple. At the time, Chicago seemed practical.
The position is entry level but legitimate, with benefits and room to grow. The salary would not go far in Manhattan, but it would be enough in Chicago if I found a roommate.
I read the email twice. They want to speak with me on Wednesday afternoon.
Liana’s sucking slows as she begins drifting toward sleep.
I should reply immediately. Instead, I lock my phone and set it face down.
The thought of leaving makes my chest ache.
I lower my cheek to the top of Liana’s head and breathe in the sweet, warm scent of her.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Her eyelids remain closed.
“I can’t stay here and pretend everything is fine if he decides he doesn’t want this.”
I carry Liana to her nursery after she finishes eating and lower her carefully into the crib. She stirs, her mouth opening in a small protest, so I rest my hand against her stomach until she settles.
I stand over her long after she is asleep.
The nursery has changed so much since I first arrived.
When Dean interviewed me, the room looked professionally designed but untouched. Now there are signs of a real baby everywhere.
A stack of clean clothes waits to be folded on the chair. A stuffed elephant lies face down near the crib.
One of Dean’s parenting books sits open on the dresser, a page folded over despite his insistence that bending corners ruins books.
There are traces of all three of us in this room. I chose the mobile above the crib. Dean assembled the bookshelf.
We spent an hour arguing about whether the rocking chair should face the window or the door.
It feels like ours. That is the danger. Nothing here belongs to me.
He can close that door whenever he wants.
The thought makes me feel ashamed.
Dean has never treated me as though I am disposable. Even Saturday night, when he was terrified, he worried about what his fear might do to me.
But fear doesn’t have to be cruel to destroy something. Sometimes, it simply convinces people to walk away before they can be left.
I return to my bedroom and open my laptop.
The job application page still sits open from the last time I used it. Several saved positions appear along the side of the screen, all in different cities.
Now every listing looks like an escape route.
I open the email from the Chicago firm and begin typing.
Thank you for reaching out. I would be happy to speak with you on Wednesday afternoon.
My fingers hover above the keyboard.
Accepting an interview doesn’t mean I’m accepting the job. It means I’m protecting myself.
I stare at the message until the words blur, and then I press Send. The confirmation appears immediately. My stomach twists so sharply that I close the laptop.
I don’t know what will come of this, but I know that I have to move forward … with or without Dean.