The Ring in the Nursery

2. Hannah

HANNAH

I'd left the nursery planning papers on the kitchen counter.

The house was ready. I'd checked the living room twice already, making sure everything looked right. Pierce was bringing his work home tonight — Sienna and Carter, too — and I wanted everything to go smoothly for him. My wedding ring caught the light from the pendant fixture overhead.

The phone rang. I answered it on the second ring.

"Hannah! You sound out of breath."

"Julia." I leaned against the counter, smiling. "I'm not out of breath. Just moving around."

"Moving around doing what? You're five months pregnant. You should be sitting down with your feet up, not running marathons in your own house."

I laughed. God, it felt good to hear her voice. "I'm hosting tonight. Pierce is bringing people home for a work thing, and I want it to go well."

"A work thing on a Wednesday night?" Julia's tone turned sharper, the way it always did when she thought I was doing too much. "Hannah, you're supposed to be resting. You're not his event coordinator."

I didn't want to get into it. "It's fine. It's just a few people. His event planner and Carter — you remember Carter, right? Pierce's friend from business school."

"Right. The one who actually has manners." She paused. "And the event planner. What's her name again?"

"Sienna."

"Sienna." Julia said it like she was tasting something bitter. "The one who planned the shower?"

I didn't answer immediately. The memory of yesterday sat heavy in my chest, a weight I'd been carrying all day. Pierce giving his toast without mentioning me. Sienna joking that she was his work wife. The loneliness of walking away to a private room while everyone stayed and laughed.

"Yeah," I said finally. "That's her."

Julia was quiet for a beat. Then she said, "Hannah?—"

"I should go. They'll be here any minute, and I haven't put the drinks out yet."

"You don't have to?—"

"I know. I know, Jules. But I want to. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"

She sighed. "Okay. But if you need anything?—"

"I know where to find you."

I ended the call and set my phone down next to the planning papers. My hand was shaking. Just a little, but enough that I noticed.

I heard the front door open, and then Pierce's voice, easy and familiar, saying something I couldn't make out. Footsteps in the hallway. Multiple sets.

Pierce came in first. He looked good in the navy suit he'd worn to the office, his tie loosened. He smiled when he saw me, the quick distracted smile that meant he was thinking about six other things at once.

"Hey." He crossed the kitchen and kissed my forehead, his hand resting briefly on my shoulder. "You good?"

"I'm good."

Sienna appeared in the doorway before I could say anything else.

She had a leather portfolio tucked under one arm and her phone in the other hand, her heels clicking against the hardwood as she stepped into the kitchen like she'd been there a hundred times before.

She glanced at me, then at Pierce, and her mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Hannah. You look comfortable."

I was wearing leggings and an oversized sweater because nothing else fit, and the way she said comfortable made it sound wrong. My face heated. I wanted to say something, anything, but my brain went blank and stupid, and all I managed was, "Thanks."

Carter followed Sienna in, carrying a laptop bag and a box of what looked like presentation materials. He nodded at me, his expression neutral. "Hannah."

"Carter. Hi." I stepped back to give them room, my hip bumping the counter. "I set up the living room if you want to work in there, or I can clear the dining table?—"

"Living room's perfect," Pierce said, already moving past me toward the hallway. "Sienna, you want to get set up? I'll grab the projector from the office."

Sienna set her portfolio down on my planning papers, covering them completely, and turned to Pierce. "I'll need the extension cord, too. And maybe another chair if Carter's joining us for the full presentation."

I stared at the portfolio sitting on top of my notes and sketches for the nursery. She hadn't even looked at what was underneath. Probably didn't care.

"I can get the chair," I said.

Pierce was already halfway down the hall. Sienna didn't acknowledge me. She was scrolling through her phone, her thumb moving fast across the screen, and Carter was unpacking the box onto the counter next to her like I wasn't standing right there.

I caught Carter's eye. He glanced at me, then at Sienna, and for a second I thought he might say something. But he didn't. He just turned back to the box and kept unpacking.

I pulled an extra chair from the dining room and brought it into the living room, setting it down near the couch.

My hands were steady now, but my pulse kicked up anyway, a tight fluttering beat in my throat that wouldn't settle.

I went back to the kitchen and poured water into a pitcher, set out glasses on a tray, and brought it all into the living room.

Sienna was sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, typing something on her laptop. She looked up when I set the tray down on the coffee table.

"Oh, Hannah. You didn't have to do that."

The way she said it made it sound like I'd done something wrong. Like I'd overstepped.

"It's no trouble," I said.

Pierce came back with the projector and the extension cord, moving around me to plug everything in.

I stepped aside to give him room, my back pressed against the armchair.

He didn't look at me. His focus was entirely on Sienna, on the screen she was setting up, on whatever presentation they were about to run through.

"Hannah, do you need help with anything?" Carter asked. He was standing in the doorway, his hands in his pockets, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"No. I'm fine."

I wasn't fine. I wanted Pierce to see how Sienna had dismissed me in my own kitchen, how she'd set her things down on top of mine without asking, how she'd made me feel like I was in the way. I wanted him to notice, and I wanted him to care.

But he didn't notice. He was laughing at something Sienna said, his whole body angled toward her, relaxed and warm in a way he hadn't been with me in weeks. Maybe months.

I sat down in the armchair and folded my hands over my stomach. The baby kicked. I pressed back gently, a quiet conversation nobody else could see.

The presentation started. I tried to follow along — something about a spring gala, sponsorship tiers, projected attendance numbers — but Sienna's voice grated against my nerves, smooth and confident. She was good at this, I could admit that. She knew how to hold a room, how to make Pierce laugh.

She didn't look at me once.

Halfway through, Pierce's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, frowned, and stood up. "I need to take this. Keep going, I'll catch up."

He left the room. Sienna paused the presentation and leaned back against the couch, stretching her arms overhead like she was settling in for a break. She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I felt the weight of it like something physical.

"So, Hannah. How are you feeling? You must be so excited."

"Four months to go," I said.

"Four months! That'll fly by. Are you ready? Do you have everything you need?"

I thought about my planning papers, still buried under her portfolio in the kitchen. I thought about the nursery that hadn't been started yet, the appointments Pierce kept missing, the conversations I'd been trying to have with him that kept getting pushed aside for work.

"We're getting there," I said.

Sienna smiled. It looked sympathetic, but it wasn't. "I'm sure Pierce will make time once the baby's here. He's just so busy right now. You know how he is — once he's locked in on something, it's hard to pull him away."

I knew exactly how he was. That was the problem.

Carter shifted in his seat. He was watching Sienna now, his jaw tight, but he didn't say anything.

Pierce came back before I could answer. He slipped his phone into his pocket and sat down next to Sienna, closer than he needed to be. "Where were we?"

"Sponsorship tiers," Sienna said, and just like that the presentation started again.

I stopped listening. I sat there in the armchair with my hands folded over the baby and watched my husband give Sienna the attention and warmth he used to give me.

Watched him lean in when she talked, nod along, ask questions that meant he was actually listening to her answers.

He cared about what she was saying. He cared about her work.

When was the last time he'd cared about mine?

The presentation ended. Sienna closed her laptop with a satisfied click and looked at Pierce. "I think we're in good shape. If you can get me approval on the final budget by Friday, I'll lock in the venue and send contracts to the top three sponsors."

"Done," Pierce said. "Great work, Sienna. Really. This is exactly what we needed."

She glowed under the praise. I felt something twist in my chest, sharp and ugly, and I hated myself for it.

Carter started packing up the materials. I stood, trying to ignore the ache in my lower back, and picked up the tray from the coffee table. Nobody had touched the water.

Pierce glanced at me. "Hannah, you okay?"

"I'm fine." I forced a smile. "Just tired."

"You should rest." He said it kindly, absently, already turning back to Sienna. "We'll clean up. You don't have to worry about it."

I didn't want to rest. I wanted him to see me.

I wanted him to notice that I'd set up the room and carried the chair and the water for people who barely acknowledged I existed.

But he didn't ask, and I didn't say, because I'd learned a long time ago that saying what I actually felt only made things harder.

I took the tray back to the kitchen. My planning papers were still under Sienna's portfolio. I thought about pulling them out, but I didn't want to make a scene. I didn't want to be the difficult wife who couldn't let work happen in her own house without making it about her.

God, why did I keep doing this?

I heard them talking in the living room — Sienna's laugh, bright and easy, and Pierce's voice underneath it, warm in a way that made my throat go tight. I set the tray down in the sink and gripped the edge of the counter, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The baby moved. I pressed my hand there, steadying myself.

I came back into the living room when I heard them getting ready to leave, and I stood next to Pierce while he walked Sienna and Carter to the door. Sienna looked at me as she slipped her coat on.

"Thanks for hosting, Hannah. You're so good at this."

She said it like it was a compliment. Like being good at hosting was the only thing I was good at.

"You're welcome," I said.

Carter met my eyes for a second, and I saw something there — sympathy, maybe, or understanding — but he didn't say anything. He just nodded and followed Sienna out the door.

Pierce closed it behind them and turned to me, already pulling his tie the rest of the way off. "That went well. Sienna really pulled it together."

"Yeah."

He looked at me. Really looked at me, for the first time all evening. "You sure you're okay? You seem off."

I could have told him. I could have said your event planner treats me like I'm invisible in my own house or you didn't defend me once tonight or I need you to care about the nursery the way you care about Sienna's gala.

But I didn't. Because saying it out loud meant admitting how much it hurt, and I wasn't ready to do that yet.

"I wanted to talk to you about the nursery," I said instead.

"Right. The nursery." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes already drifting toward the stairs. "What about it?"

I thought about the planning papers in the kitchen, the hours I'd spent organizing everything, the way I'd been trying to get him to sit down and go through it with me for two weeks.

"I found a crib I really like. But I need to put down a deposit soon because she's booked up, and if we wait much longer we won't have it in time. "

Pierce was nodding, but I could tell he wasn't really hearing me. "Okay. How much is the deposit?"

"It's not really the money. I just want to start on the room. We haven't even painted yet."

"We'll get it done, Hannah. We have time." He said it like it was obvious, like time was never going to run short. "Just send me the link for the crib and I'll look at it tomorrow."

I wanted to tell him I didn't need him to look at it tomorrow. I needed him to look at it now, with me. I needed him to care about this. But the words stayed where they were.

He frowned a little at my silence. "It's been a long day, and I have an early call in the morning. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

My chest ached. I wanted to scream at him that we never talked about it tomorrow, that tomorrow turned into next week and next week turned into him telling me to just handle it myself because I was better at this kind of thing anyway. But I didn't scream. I didn't even raise my voice.

"Sure," I said. "Tomorrow."

He kissed my forehead again, the same distracted kiss from earlier, and headed upstairs. I stood in the hallway and listened to his footsteps fade, the sound of the bedroom door closing behind him.

I went back into the kitchen. My planning papers sat there on the counter, wrinkled where Sienna's portfolio had pressed them flat. I picked them up and smoothed them out with my palm, trying to fix the creases, but they wouldn't lie flat anymore.

The baby kicked again. I sank down into a kitchen chair at the counter and pressed both hands over my stomach, feeling the movement under my skin. My wedding ring dug into my finger. I twisted it absently, the metal warm from my body heat.

I'd hoped he would notice. I'd hoped he would see how Sienna treated me, how much I needed him to be there for this, how alone I felt standing in my own house with people who didn't see me.

I'd hoped, and the hope had turned into something else now, something quiet and aching that sat in my chest and wouldn't leave.

I sat there in the kitchen with my hands on my belly and the planning papers on the counter in front of me, and I let the hurt settle in.