My Babies and Me

Falling back hard in his chair, Michael stared at her. “You’re doing this for my benefit, aren’t you?”

“Not really.” Cradling her belly with her arms, she shook her head, surprised to find that the words were completely true. “I’m thinking of all of us, and maybe me most of all.”

“How’s that?”

“I had a proposal of passion once, Michael. I know how

that feels, to want something with such intensity. To be wanted that much. I can’t settle for less.”

She was getting through to him. His eyes were no longer disbelieving. Questioning.

“You’re still the only woman for me,” he said. She knew he was remembering back, as she was, to that first proposal so many years ago.

“But we’re different now, smarter,” she whispered. “And I can’t make the same mistake twice.”

Michael bowed his head, but not before she’d seen the relief flash across his features. That look cut her to the quick, hurting her so badly she couldn’t even breathe at first. And when she could breathe again, she couldn’t stop the burning behind her eyelids. She bowed her head, too—until she could swallow the telltale tears, sweep them away. Pretend none of this mattered.

For the sake of her babies, she had to be strong.

“And you’re okay with this?” Michael asked. “Honestly?”

If she had any hope of convincing him, she was going to have to look him in the face. And not cry.

And try to lie.

“I’m completely certain it’s for the best.”

Which was about as much of an answer as he’d given her earlier when she’d asked him what he wanted above all else. They’d be better off if they’d learned to lie to each other somewhere along the way, she told herself wearily.

Leaning forward, his elbows on his knees, Michael reached for her hand, holding it securely between both of his. “And you’re okay with my coming and going as I have been?”

No! Susan froze before she voiced the thought. After all, what was her alternative? Never to see him again.

“As you have been lately, where you stayed for a while at a time, or as you have been over the past three years, stopping in for a day or two whenever you could?”

What did it matter? Either one would break her heart.

“In my current position, the most I’d be able to spare is a day or two now and then. Unless I find another company in Cincinnati that I’m interested in buying out.”

Pulling her hand from his, Susan retreated further into herself, talking silently to her babies. We’ll be just fine, guys, we’ll be just fine. She repeated the litany over and over.

“No, Michael, I’m not okay with that.” The words came straight from her heart. She’d had no intention of saying them. “Every time you leave—” she looked down at her belly “—I miss you more.”

She had to stop. To take a deep breath. “I think I’ve used up my strength fighting that loneliness, Michael. I’m tired of missing you.” Meeting his eyes, she begged him to understand. To forgive her for not being able to be everything he needed her to be. “If I can’t have you here full-time, I think I’d rather not have you here at all.” She took another deep breath, and then, like a runaway train, just kept on talking. “I think it would be best for the babies, too.”

Frowning, Michael folded his arms over his chest. “So we’re right back where we started,” he said with frustration. “I need to quit my job and come home.”

With the pain so intense, Susan couldn’t help considering, just for a moment, if maybe that wouldn’t be better. To have part of Michael instead of none.

She couldn’t fight the tears any longer as she saw the haunted look in his eyes. “Did you feel completely trapped the whole time you were staying with me this spring and summer?”

“No.” His answer shocked her. Gave her hope. Until he smashed it again. “But I always knew I could leave, that I hadn’t committed myself to anything. I always had the safety net of knowing I only had to stay as long as the job kept me here.”

“Get out, Michael.” Susan was through. Couldn’t take any more of his honesty. “Just get out.”

“I can’t leave you like this, Susan.”

“I want you to,” she said unemotionally. “Really.” And she did. She just couldn’t hurt anymore.