Chapter Forty-Five
ISOBEL
Boston
When I’d packed Fin up to go to the office this afternoon, I hadn’t anticipated ending the day perched on a toilet seat with a breast pump attached to my chest trying not to cry. My life didn’t feel like my own right now, and I couldn’t even get through half a day without breaking down.
I was supposed to go and finish a business dinner with an author we were trying to woo, and I had freaking bullseye breast milk stains on the front of my now see-through blouse.
One day.
I just wanted one fucking day where I didn’t feel like a failure.
One day where I could just feel normal instead of this alien version of myself that couldn’t seem to do anything right.
For fuck’s sake, I was crying in a restaurant bathroom stall being milked like a cow because I heard a baby crying on the other side of the restaurant and my milk let down.
The noise of the restaurant almost drowned out the sound of the pump when the door to the ladies’ room opened. The door to the stall next to me closed before a voice asked, “What’s that noise?”
“I don’t know. It kinda sounds like you’re in your room after ten every night.”
“You can hear that? ”
“Oh my god, I think everyone on our floor can hear it. My electric toothbrush is quieter than your vibrator.”
“Seriously. What is that? It’s kind of creeping me out.”
Trying to ignore the commentary on my current state of being, I turned off the pump, suddenly self-conscious about leaving the stall.
“Sounds like they’re done. Wish I could come that quietly,” the one closest said.
“Yeah, so do I.”
“Must have really needed to take the edge off if they’re doing that in a bathroom stall.”
Both women laughed, and I cringed while I packed away the collection bottles and re-buttoned my stained blouse. Awkwardly balancing my pump bag with my purse, I tried to put my blazer back on without dropping anything.
When I opened my door, the stall next to me did at the same time, and I made eye contact with the woman emerging before looking down and heading to the sink.
The other stall opened and another young woman in a tight, short dress joined us at the sinks.
They both eyed me as I washed my hands before rinsing off the parts to my pump. It’d be nice if these things magically cleaned themselves so I could escape right now.
“What is that?” the one closest asked, and the other smacked her in the shoulder. She turned to her friend and shrugged. “What? You’re the one who thought it was a vibrator.”
At this point, I wished it was a vibrator. Since I hadn’t had an orgasm in over four months, and probably wouldn’t ever again once Adrian decided to stop putting up with me.
“It’s a breast pump.”
Their mouths puckered, and they looked at me.
“Is that like a sex thing?”
“Holy shit, you’re an idiot,” her friend hissed.
“I don’t know what a breast pump is.”
“It’s for milk. For a baby,” I explained. “For food. ”
“You have to milk yourself in public when you have a baby?”
Unfortunately, sometimes yes. “Can’t you just feed it with a bottle or something? Why do you have to do that here?”
“You think I enjoy milking myself in a bathroom stall? Most places don’t have anywhere else for me to go. I’d probably get asked to leave if I tried to do this at the table.”
She didn’t answer, squinting as she watched me pack away the pump parts. “Where is your baby?”
“She’s with her dad.” Who I hoped didn’t hate me right now. Because I hated myself enough for the both of us.
“Ah. So, he’s babysitting so you can go out?”
“He’s her father. It’s not babysitting when it’s your own kid.” I hated it with a passion when people said that. Fathers were perfectly capable of watching their children while their partners left. And it wasn’t fucking babysitting.
“What else are you supposed to call it?”
She stared at me expectantly, and I was baffled that we were still having this conversation in this day and age. “Parenting. Would it be babysitting if I were watching her?”
The eyes of the girl next to her widened and I think she could tell I was teetering on the edge of my sanity right now. “We should probably go, Mills. The guys are waiting.”
Yeah, Mills. I’d like to wallow in self-loathing with milk stains on my shirt in a restaurant bathroom by myself.
Sloane was walking down the hall toward me as I exited the bathroom. I attempted to pull my blazer closed so she wouldn’t see my predicament, but I had a feeling she saw it anyway.
“You feeling okay? You’ve been gone a while.”
“I’m uh…” While the stains had started to dry, there was still a visible mark left behind. I would have to start carrying extra shirts with me from now on. This definitely wasn’t something they told you about in the baby books.
“Oh, no worries, Is. I can cover the rest of the meeting. These things happen. I know when I was nursing, I leaked through things during meetings all the time. I finally started wearing black blouses all the time, so it wasn’t as noticeable. You’ll get the hang of things. Whatever you need to do to be comfortable is a priority at work. If you need to nurse during the day, feel free to pop down to the daycare and take care of it.”
Sloane had always been a very supportive boss, but the fact she was more than willing to accommodate my rough start into motherhood brought tears to my eyes. I sniffled, trying to smile as I nodded, but as her expression shifted to concern, I was afraid she’d judge my ability to return to my job. But I needed something to focus on right now, desperately, because being a mother was so much harder than I thought it’d be.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’m assuming Adrian has the baby right now, so let him help you. It’s hard the first few months, and with her being a preemie, I’m sure it’s much harder than I went through, but you will get past this. Things won’t necessarily get easier, but you’ll figure it out. I promise.”
Unable to hold back the tears, I nodded, my throat too tight to talk. I think she could tell I was seconds away from a meltdown, and she stepped toward me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“Rest tonight. Reset for tomorrow. If you’re willing to make the trip to New York with me, I’d really appreciate your help, but I understand if…”
“No,” I rasped, my voice wavering. “I need to try. You didn’t promote me to not do my job. I want to start getting back to what my duties should be. I need something to start going right.”
“I promoted you because I know you are a very competent employee, but I also know how hard it is to navigate being a woman in the professional world. It may take some time and adjustment, but I’m not worried about your work performance. You taking care of that sweet baby is a priority now too.”
Thinking about Finley and all the ways I was failing her had been my constant companion for the last few months. Adrian had tried to comfort me and give me space to work through things, but I just couldn’t let go of the guilt. It followed me around like a black cloud.
“Thank you,” I whispered, situating the straps of my bags on my shoulder.
“No need for a thank you. Feel free to work remotely tomorrow if you need to. Just pencil me in for a call in the afternoon to settle travel plans.”
I nodded, taking a deep breath after she let go of my shoulder and skirted around me to duck into the bathroom.
Once she was gone, I fought the urge to cry, not knowing how I’d continue to balance everything. She’d tried to give me an out from the trip to New York, but I felt like not going would let her down. I just didn’t want to let my family down either by leaving them.
Going home sounded like an impossible task right now, and the one place I really wanted to go seemed selfish, but I was going anyway. Because I couldn’t stomach facing Adrian—or Finley—right now.
“Hey,” Leila greeted as her door swung open, a confused look on her face. I’d shown up unannounced, but I needed to talk to her. She might not understand the stress of motherhood, but she was always a shoulder to lean on. And someone who wasn’t afraid to give me the truth. “You okay?”
“No,” I whimpered, shaking my head. I was so not okay right now.
“Shit, girl, don’t cry. Get your ass in here. I’ll grab the wine.” She stepped aside so I could enter her apartment, and walked toward the kitchen while I stood still in the entryway, trying not to turn into a blubbering mess.
“I can’t drink,” I mumbled, and she leaned over the counter, rolling her eyes .
“Half a glass won’t hurt you. It looks like you need it right now. Go sit, don’t just stand there looking like a wounded puppy.”
Placing my bag down by the door, I pulled out the small cooler I stored the pumped milk inside. “Can I put this in your refrigerator?”
“What you got in there?”
“Milk.”
She laughed, motioning for me to join her in the kitchen. “I’m gonna assume that it’s not from a cow.”
“I feel like one lately. Nobody told me I’d have to milk myself like ten times a day.”
“Fin still not cooperating with the whole breast-feeding thing?” I’d talked to Leila sporadically over the last few months, and she was great about asking how I was doing, but most of those conversations ended up with me unloading my problems on her. Yet another thing I was failing at, I was a terrible friend.
“Pretty sure she hates me. Why didn’t you try to talk me out of it when I told you I wanted a baby? I’m probably the worst mother in history.”
“I’ve never been a mother, but I know that’s not true. You’ve gotta give yourself some grace. You’ve had a rough couple of months, but you’re still trying. Dickhead have her right now?”
“Yeah.” I bit my lip, trying not to cry again, but my eyes watered. “I pretty much dumped her on him and ran this afternoon.”
“And I’m sure he was okay with that. You know he’ll help when you need it. I’m kinda surprised the guy hasn’t tried to put a ring on it, to be honest.”
“He did.”
“You’re engaged, and you didn’t tell me? What the hell, Is?”
Shaking my head, I reached up to wipe my cheeks, tears leaking in earnest now. “I said no. Or I think I said no. He asked me out of the blue while I was trying to go through work emails, and I panicked. I don’t even know why he wants to marry me. I’m a total shit show.”
“Maybe because he loves you. And he’s obsessed with you, and your adorable kid.”
“I know he loves Fin, but...” With how much I’d withdrawn over the last few months, and how distant I was throughout my pregnancy, I wasn’t so sure about me.
How could he love me when I couldn’t find anything to love about myself?
“Sit down,” Leila commanded, pointing to her couch. “Sounds like you need to finally unload some of that self-loathing.”
I couldn’t even deny that I loathed myself. I did. No matter how much I tried to pull myself together over the last six months—hell, for the last decade—something was always there to knock me back down. I was so tired of it. I was just so tired in general. Exhaustion seemed to follow me like a black cloud.
She joined me on the couch a few minutes later, silently handing me a wineglass that was a little more than half full and sitting on the opposite end.
“I don’t know where to start.” My voice was a broken whisper.
“I think that’s part of the problem, Is. You’ve been so fixated on what everyone else wants you haven’t permitted yourself to just live. You may have moved on from Grant, but you never moved on from what you perceived to be a failure on your part.”
Bringing my glass to my lips, I contemplated what she was saying. Maybe I was still carrying around the baggage of my failed marriage. I hated disappointing people. That was why I’d thrown myself into work for all these years. I failed Grant. I failed my marriage. I failed my parents and their expectations.
The one thing I hadn’t failed at was bringing other people’s stories to life. I gave other people the tools to make their dreams come true, and I was afraid to embrace mine .
“What if I can’t do this?” The weight of everything was crushing me. Motherhood. My job. Being a terrible partner. Being a terrible friend.
A year ago, I’d thought Adrian and his attitude were the problem. Now he’d shown me how caring and selfless he could be. The last person I thought I’d fall for was the one person keeping me afloat, so I didn’t drown. I was scared to contemplate what my life would even look like right now if I had done this on my own. But I’d failed at marriage once, so I was terrified it’d happen again, and if Adrian left me, I’d be crushed.
“What if you can? You have all the parts to create this wonderful life for yourself, and you refuse to stop beating yourself up for things that were out of your control.”
“But what if they were my fault?”
“Your marriage ending was not your fault. You were dealt a shitty hand of cards, and the man who was supposed to be your partner was too much of a coward to stay when it got hard.”
“It’s not just him. It’s everything. Finley might not have been premature if I’d been better at managing my stress. It was my body that failed her. She’s so beautiful and tiny and everything I thought I ever wanted...but it’s so hard. She never stops crying. All day she cries. She doesn’t sleep. I don’t sleep. And every time Adrian comes home, and she immediately calms down, I hate him a little more. Then I hate myself for hating him. I don’t want to hate him...I...”
“You love him.”
Nodding, I reached for a tissue from the box on her coffee table. “I do. But he’s so much like Grant, I’m scared. What if he leaves me too?”
“Is,” she sighed, moving closer. She set her glass and mine on the table and pulled me into her chest. “He may have acted like Grant initially, but from everything he’s done for you, we both know he’s not him. He loves you, and I bet it’s killing him to see you suffering like this. You need to let him in.”
Adrian had never looked at me with disgust or pity like my ex had during the end of our marriage, but I wasn’t sure how long that would last. I was disgusted with myself.
“Maybe they’re both better off without me.”
“Girl, I love you...but shut the fuck up. You’re a hot fucking mess right now, but we both know you’re a badass. And I’ll be damned if we let any of this pull you under. Baby girl, you’re a fighter. And you’re going to fight for that baby, and that man. Maybe I should have pushed you harder back then. You have to talk to someone about this. Someone who knows how to handle stuff like this.”
“I’m talking to you,” I mumbled into her shoulder.
“While I will always be here for you, and I know you’d do the same for me. I can’t fix this for you. You have to want to fix it for yourself. Hiding from it is only going to make it harder. Tomorrow you are going to go home, and you’re going to call someone because I won’t let you self-destruct again. I can’t lose you either.”
“What if it’s too late? What if Adrian hates me now? What kind of person just abandons their baby?”
“Is,” she laughed, running her hand down my hair. “You’ve been gone for half a day. You hardly abandoned them. Maybe it’ll be good for him to see what you’ve been dealing with.”
“I should go home.” I wasn’t sure where that was. Adrian was at his apartment. Mine was a disaster area of half-packed boxes and the explosion of baby stuff. We were supposed to move in a few weeks, and I was so far behind it’d never happen at this rate. If that was even still the plan.
“No, you should get some fucking sleep. You’re exhausted. Take one night off and everything will look clearer in the morning. I’ll get you some PJs and then you’re going to let yourself get some rest.”
“But I can’t...”
“This is gonna sound way too profound coming from me, but you can’t drink from an empty cup, babe. Let the people who love you fill it. ”
The soothing motions of her fingers combing through my hair were bringing the exhaustion to the surface. She was right. I was so tired I didn’t know how I’d even had the energy to get to work today, much less think I could make it through a business meeting. While she hadn’t said it, even Sloane had looked at me like she thought I was going to fall apart in the restaurant.
“Get your skinny ass up and go take a shower. You know where everything is, and I should have something clean you can wear in the top drawer of my dresser.”
Leila pulled me up from the couch, steering my weary body toward her bedroom door and playfully swatting my ass. It was the most action I’d seen in months.
“While I love you, I think we’re too old, and you’re too straight for me to help you shower. Go before you pass out.”
The hot water felt good on my scalp as I let it wash away the things I’d been holding onto for way too long. Leila was right. Maybe it was time to let go of everything from my past so I could find a way to move forward. For Finley. For Adrian. For myself .
As my oldest friend tucked me into her bed, I let myself sink into the pillow, unwanted tears soaking the soft fabric.
My phone hung limply in my hand, the text thread with Adrian open. He deserved more than this, more from me. But as my fingers hovered over the screen, I hesitated. Nothing I said to him now could convey what was going on in my head.
As my eyes grew heavy and I drifted off, I vowed I’d find the strength to fight through this. Because I couldn’t allow myself to go back to how things were before.