Chapter 72
Liz, June 14
“I think I found a little house, actually, that should be available in October. I’ll have the realtor send you some photos.” Ben and I are on Skype while I attempt to paint my toenails before they vanish under the belly for good. I’m failing miserably. When I try to reposition, I nearly topple off the bed, one leg kicking out like a clumsy ballerina.
Ben chuckles. I glare. He laughs harder.
“You know I could just do that for you next month,” he says, still smirking.
“You’re going to paint my toenails?”
“Sure, why not?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I just never pictured you steady with nail polish.”
“Well, I’ll try anything once,” he grins. “If I’m terrible, we’ll pay someone to fix it.”
This time I laugh with him.
My phone trills beside me. Expecting spam, I glance casually and then freeze. My brain refuses to register the name until I look again.
Matt.
Ben looks up from his papers. “What?”
I hold up the phone. “It’s Matt.”
“Take it. Should I call you back?”
“No. This won’t be long.” I swipe to answer. “Hello?”
“Liz, it’s Matt. How, um… how are you?”
His voice drags me straight back to that restaurant: waiting alone and humiliated. I grit my teeth. “I’m fine.” The edge in my tone is impossible to hide.
“How’s the baby?”
“She’s healthy. On track. Everything’s great.” My pride swells a little; I’ve handled every appointment, every bill, every plan. Without him.
“Good.”
Silence stretches. I roll my eyes. “Matt, is that all?”
“Well… actually, I don’t know how to say this.”
“Just blurt it out.”
“I’m in a new relationship.”
I blink. “Congratulations.” And why the hell do I need this memo?
“She’s great. But she won’t understand our situation.”
“Matt, we don’t have a situation.”
“I mean she won’t understand why we’re having a baby together.”
Together. The word stings. “What do you want me to do, Matt?” My voice sharpens.
“I don’t know. I never wanted this.”
There it is. The truth. It knocks the air out of me.
Anger surges, hot and electric. “You never wanted this?” My voice rises. “That’s strange, because my entire plan while dating you was to trap you with a baby, right? Despite knowing we had no real future?” I’m shouting now, all the months of silence breaking loose.
“Liz, calm down.” Matt’s condescending tone makes me want to drive across town and run him over.
“I will not calm down. I haven’t asked you for a damn thing. I’ve done the doctor visits, paid the bills, read every book. I’ve done it all alone. Now you have the nerve to complain? Now you suddenly want me to make this easier for you?”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Ben’s face on the laptop screen. He’s leaning forward, jaw tight, eyes fixed on me. Steady. Listening.
“I don’t know, Liz.” Matt sighs. “I shouldn’t have called.”
“Damn right.” I nearly hang up, but anger anchors me. “Here’s the truth: I can’t make this easier for you. I’m not even going to try.”
He’s quiet for a moment. Then: “If you can do it without me, maybe you should. My lawyer says I can forfeit parental rights and not be on the certificate if you agree.”
That takes all of my anger. “What?” It comes out on an exhale.
“You obviously don’t need me. I sign, it’s final, and you’re free to raise it alone. Think about it, Liz. Do you really want to consult me for the rest of its life?”
The word it lands like a knife.
I picture Ben’s face lighting up just hearing Emma’s name. The morning I caught him rubbing my belly, whispering to her. His whole body alive with joy.
And now Matt, reducing her to it.
“You’d walk away from her future?”
“I’d be leaving it in capable hands,” he says.
“Yes. You would.” My tone is ice. “Matt, do whatever you need to do. But from now on, if you need anything, call my lawyer. Don’t ever call me again.”
I end the call.
Ben is still watching me, concern written all over his face. I shrug, drained. The anger’s gone. All that’s left is a hollow sadness—not for me, but for the father Emma will never have.