He loves me.
At least that’s what he led me to believe and I can’t understand why a person would lie about something like that.
During the first month of my sessions with her, I’d come in and ask, “Where’s Dr. Watson?” At first, she’d brush off the question by ignoring me and me, well, I don’t respond to that well. If someone asks me a question, I always answer it. So I’d ask again, “Dr. Swell, where is Dr. Watson?”
And after the first couple months of the same answer, I stopped asking. Mainly because every
time she answered, I felt a sharp stab of pain puncture my heart. She’d respond with the same four words every time she answered me.
Five words.
Five excruciatingly painful words that made me spend an entire month questioning my sanity.
Five words that wrapped around my lungs like a steel tourniquet and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until I forgot what it was like to breathe.
Five words.
The.
Same.
Five.
Brutal.
Words.
“There is no Dr.Watson.”
So now…I don’t inquire about him anymore.
Chapter Seven
~Before~
A little piece of good news can change a person’s entire day.
I’m pregnant.
Elijah and I are going to be parents.
I’m over the moon with excitement.
In fact as I drive home from the appointment with my obstetrician, I feel like I’m glowing. On top of that, the sun is shining brighter, the grass seems a little greener. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. My only hope is that Elijah will be as happy as I am.
However, I do have my doubts about that.
I’ve mentioned the want to have children several times and he always changes the subject or ignores me entirely when I talk about it. I know my husband. I used to think he was a very complex man, but I don’t think that so much anymore.
I know he’s afraid. He’ll never admit it, but I know his fear stems from issues with his own father and him not wanting to turn out that way.
I think his fears are ridiculous though.
Elijah has told me stories about his father and I know with certainty that Elijah is nothing like him. His father was brutal, tyrannical, callous, and vicious. Elijah couldn’t be more opposite. He is a good, kind, loving yet guarded man.
He’s sleeping when I arrive home and I decide to wait for him in the kitchen. I take a seat at our circular table, unable to hide the smile pulling at my lips. I don’t have to wait very long. About twenty minutes after I’ve taken my seat, Elijah strolls into the kitchen, scratching the back of his head and staring at me, puzzled. “What are you so excited about?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his deep voice.
I’m beaming as I slide the paper across the table that the doctor gave me. “I have some wonderful news,” I say and try not to squeal.