The Ring in the Nursery

1. Hannah

HANNAH

The baby kicked, and I pressed my hand to the spot, hoping the movement would settle.

Guests milled around the sitting room with glasses of sparkling water and little sandwiches cut into triangles, and I stood near the window, waiting.

Pierce had texted twenty minutes ago that he was almost here. Almost could mean anything with him.

I wanted this to be a good day. Just one afternoon where he showed up on time and stayed, where he looked at me instead of his phone, where the baby felt real to both of us.

My hand moved over the curve of my stomach, smoothing the fabric of my dress.

The dress was new, pale blue, the only nice maternity thing I owned that still fit.

I'd wanted to look good for him. God, that felt pathetic.

Around me, women I barely knew chatted about nursery themes and sleep schedules and whether I'd decided on a name yet.

I hadn't. Pierce and I hadn't talked about it, not really.

Every time I tried to bring it up, he had a call or a meeting or something urgent.

The conversations we needed to have kept getting pushed to later, and later never came.

The shower had been Sienna's idea, but I'd hoped Pierce would make it ours.

The front door opened, and I heard his voice in the hall. My pulse kicked up. I hated how my body still reacted to him like this, like I was some teenager with a crush instead of a woman who'd been married to him for six years. But I wanted him here so badly it made my chest ache.

Pierce stepped into the room, and I went to him. He smiled when he saw me, the easy smile that had made me fall for him in the first place, and kissed my cheek. His cologne hit me, clean and expensive. "Sorry I'm late. Conference call ran over."

"You're here now." I kept my voice light. That was what mattered, wasn't it? "Thank you for making time."

"Of course." He squeezed my hand, and for half a second I thought maybe this would be okay. But his attention was already drifting past me to the room, taking stock of the guests. He was always working, even when he wasn't.

Before I could say anything else, Sienna appeared at his elbow like she'd been waiting for him. She probably had been. She wore a sleek cream dress that made my maternity outfit look like a sack, and her smile was bright and professional. "Pierce, you made it. I was just about to start the games."

"Sienna." He turned to her, and I felt the shift in his focus like a door closing. "This looks incredible. You've outdone yourself."

She laughed, a light, musical sound that carried across the room. "Just doing my job."

Sienna touched Pierce's arm, a brief, casual gesture that somehow felt deliberate. "Come on, I'll introduce you to some of the guests. Hannah, you don't mind if I borrow him for a minute, do you?"

What was I supposed to say? No, he's my husband, get your hands off him? That would make me sound crazy. Pierce was already moving with her toward a cluster of women near the fireplace, and I stood there with my hand still resting on my stomach, feeling like an idiot.

The games started, and I sat in the chair Sienna had positioned for me in the center of the room, opening gifts while everyone watched. Pierce stood off to the side with a glass of water, smiling politely. He looked like he was at a work event, not his own child's baby shower.

One of my old colleagues from the school where I used to teach handed me a box wrapped in yellow paper. "This is from all of us in the English department. We miss you."

"Thank you." My chest tightened. I pulled the ribbon loose and opened the box, finding a set of board books inside. The kind I would have kept in my classroom, back when I had a classroom. Back when I had something that was mine. "These are wonderful."

I missed teaching more than I'd expected to. More than I'd admitted to Pierce, who thought I'd been happy to give it up when we got married.

Another gift, another round of thank-yous. A blanket, a diaper bag, a mobile for the crib I hadn't set up yet. My face hurt from smiling. The baby kicked again, harder this time, and I pressed my hand to the spot.

Sienna moved through the room like she owned it, refilling glasses and steering conversations and making sure everyone knew she'd planned the whole thing.

Which she had. But the guests didn't know that for six years I'd been the one planning Pierce's dinners, managing his calendar, keeping his social world running.

They didn't know I'd done any of that. Sienna had her name on this event, and I had nothing to show for the years I'd spent holding everything together.

"You're so lucky to have Sienna," one of the women said to me, gesturing toward where Sienna stood laughing with Pierce and two other guests. "She thinks of everything."

"She's very good at her job." I tried to mean it.

The woman kept talking, something about her own baby shower, and I nodded along without really listening.

Across the room, Pierce laughed at something Sienna said, his head tilted toward her, and jealousy burned hot in my chest. I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, the metal catching the light.

I'd chosen this. Chosen him, chosen this marriage, chosen to give up teaching to build a life with him.

And now I was sitting here watching my husband laugh with another woman while I opened presents alone.

Sienna drifted over. "Hannah, you must be thrilled. I know how much you've been looking forward to today."

The words were perfectly kind. Her eyes weren't. I caught the flicker there, the little glint that said she knew exactly what she was doing, at my own baby shower. My stomach twisted, but I smiled back. "It's lovely. Thank you for arranging everything."

Pierce was still by the fireplace with the others. He hadn't looked over. He hadn't heard a word of it.

More gifts. A stuffed elephant, onesies with animals on them, a book about sleep training. "Thank you," I said again and again, until the words felt meaningless.

When the last gift was opened, Sienna raised her glass, still smiling at Pierce. "To the Langfords," she said. Then she laughed, light and teasing. "Though I have to say, Pierce, sometimes I feel like I'm your work wife with how much time we spend together planning these things."

The room erupted in laughter. Pierce laughed too, shaking his head like the idea was funny and ridiculous.

But my wedding ring felt heavy on my finger. Too heavy. I twisted it without thinking, around and around, the metal warm against my skin, and tried to make myself laugh along with everyone else. Tried to tell myself it didn't mean anything. It was just a joke.

Sienna was still smiling at my husband, and he was smiling back, and nobody in the room thought there was anything wrong with what she'd just said. Nobody except me. And maybe I was being oversensitive. Maybe I was hormonal or making a mountain out of nothing, the way Pierce always said I did.

But the joke sat in my chest like a stone.

I crossed the room while the laughter was still fading and touched Pierce's sleeve. "Can I borrow you for a second?"

"Of course, just—" He glanced at Sienna, who was already saying something about the cake, and he turned back to her. "One minute, Hannah."

He stayed where he was, listening to Sienna. I went back to my chair.

Sienna tapped her glass with a fork. The room went quiet. "Before we move on to cake, I think Pierce has something he'd like to say."

Pierce blinked, caught off guard, then stepped forward with the easy confidence he brought to every boardroom. He wasn't great at speeches, not personal ones anyway, but he'd give it a shot because Sienna had put him on the spot. Ugh. I hated that she could do that to him and he didn't even notice.

"Thanks, everyone, for being here," he started, his voice steady and warm. The same voice he used when he wanted to close a deal. "This is a big moment for us, and it means a lot that you all took the time to celebrate with us today."

Us. He said us, but he was looking at the room, not at me.

"Sienna pulled together something really special here," he continued. "I know we're all grateful for the effort she put in. She always goes above and beyond, and this is no exception."

He kept talking, thanking Sienna again, talking about how excited he was for the baby to arrive, how much the support from everyone meant.

He never said my name.

Not once.

He talked about the baby and the future and how incredible Sienna was, and I sat there in my chair surrounded by presents and felt completely invisible.

When he finished, everyone clapped. Sienna beamed at him, and he smiled back, easy and comfortable. My jaw ached from holding my smile in place. I clapped along with everyone else because that was what you did.

Someone made another toast, and the conversation moved on. The cake came out, white with yellow frosting and little ducks on top. Sienna had picked it. Sienna had picked everything.

I stayed in my chair, smiling until my face hurt, and tried to tell myself it didn't matter.

When Pierce finally made his way over to me, I reached for his hand. "I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure." He glanced at his watch, a quick, automatic movement that made my stomach drop. "What's up?"

I pulled him a few steps away from the nearest group of guests, lowering my voice. "I have my next appointment on Thursday. The one where they do the growth scan. I was hoping you could come with me."

"Thursday." He frowned, and I could see him turning it over. "Let me look at the calendar. Thursday might be a busy one."

"The appointment's at ten. You'd be done by eleven."

"Hannah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll see how the week shakes out. There's a lot moving right now."

"It's the growth scan. I'd like you to be there."

He let out a breath. "I know. Let me see how the week goes, and I'll let you know."

"Right." I pulled my hand back, wrapping my arms around myself even though it was awkward with my stomach in the way. My throat felt tight, and my eyes were stinging, and I was not going to cry at my own baby shower. "Sure. You'll let me know."

"Hannah, come on." He reached for me, but I stepped back.

"I'm fine. You're busy. I get it."

"Hannah—"

"It's fine, Pierce." I forced the words out past the lump in my throat. "Go back to the guests. Sienna probably needs you for something."

He hesitated, and for a second I thought he might actually stay. But then someone called his name from across the room, and he glanced over, and the moment was gone.

"We'll talk about this later," he said, already turning away.

"Yeah. Later."

He left. I stood there for a minute, trying to get a grip, then made my way through the crowd with murmured excuses. Nobody questioned it. Pregnant women were allowed to be tired.

I found the small sitting room at the back of the house, the one with the bookshelves and the window that looked out over the garden. It was quiet here, away from the voices and the laughter and Sienna's bright, knowing smile.

I sank into the chair by the window and let my head fall back against the cushion. The sounds of the party continued without me, muffled through the walls. Someone laughed. Glasses clinked. They were fine without me. They probably hadn't even noticed I'd left.

The baby kicked again, a strong jab right under my ribs. I put my hand over the spot, feeling the movement beneath my palm, and tried to remember what I'd been hoping for when the day started.

A good afternoon with my husband. That was all. Just one good afternoon where he showed up and stayed and made me feel like I mattered. Like we mattered.

God, what was I even doing?

The house felt enormous around me, too big and too quiet even with a room full of people just down the hall.

I'd given up teaching for this. Given up my job and my colleagues and the classroom where I'd actually felt like I was good at something.

And now I was sitting here alone, pregnant and lonely and watching my husband give his attention to everyone except me.

I closed my eyes and listened to the party I was supposed to be at, and let myself sit with the loneliness I couldn't say out loud. Because saying it would mean admitting something was wrong, and Pierce would just tell me I was overreacting. Making a mountain out of an anthill.

So I sat there alone and said nothing at all.