I sat up, swinging my legs off the sofa. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly tender. “Do you need anything?”
I blinked, my brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
“A drink, something to eat. Can I do anything for you?”
“No.”
He laid the book down between us on the small coffee table. “Your work is brilliant. Honest to a fault.”
“It’s our story. It deserved honesty.”
“Why, Megan? Why did you write it?”
I cleared my throat. “I thought if I wrote it out, the pain would lessen. Maybe if I got it out of my head, I wouldn’t ache so much.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
He nodded in silent understanding. “I thought if I ran away and didn’t see you, I could hate you the way I wanted. I thought I could stop the rage I felt.”
“Did it work?”
“No.” He paused. “I had one huge flaw in my logic, though.”
“Oh?”
He leaned forward, his hands splayed across his thighs. “My rage was directed at myself because I knew, somewhere inside, I knew, I could never hate you. No matter what I thought you did, I would only ever love you.”
His honest words caused an ache in my chest. My hands tightened around the edge of the blanket as I fought the tears that were never far beneath the surface.
He picked up the journal. “I hurt you so much. I also left you alone to face so much more than some reporters.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Tell me.”
“You didn’t read it?”
“I read your words. I want to hear you tell me.” He paused, swallowing as his voice shook. “Tell me about the day you found out, Megan.”
“Karen made me go to the doctor—she wouldn’t let me leave until I did.”
He nodded.
“They took blood and checked me out, ran some tests. Karen stayed with me because I was so nervous, even though I was sure he would tell me it was stress.”
“It was more. So much more.” He came closer, edging forward, his gaze never faltering.
A tear rolled down my cheek as I recalled the moment. “He told me I was pregnant.”
The smallest smile ghosted over his face, his eyes bright. “How did you feel?”
I thought back to that day and the myriad of emotions I went through.
“Surprised—scared—upset—angry.”
“With me?”
“No.” I leaned toward him, wanting to explain. “I forgot my shot, Zachary. I missed it. I was angry at myself.” I drew in a deep breath. “But then, I wasn’t. All I felt was joy. So much joy, I thought my heart would burst.”
“Even though I left you alone?”
I closed my eyes as I nodded. “It was as if I had a new sense of purpose. I was determined to move forward and give this child all my love—create a life for the two of us. I had a small piece of you left I could love.”
His voice became thicker. “You loved our child even though I deserted you?”
I met his gaze, shocked to see tears in his eyes. “Or course I did. We created this life together.” I lowered my voice. “You didn’t know. Neither of us did at that point.”
“And I never would have, if I hadn’t come back. You would have been alone with our child.” His voice grew angrier. “Raising our child on your own, because I’m a coward.”
Hot tears splashed on my shaking fists. “You’re here now,” I offered, almost afraid to say it. I had no idea if he would stay.
“By the grace of God, yes.” He got up and began pacing. “How can you forgive all this? How can you forgive me? If it’s not bad enough I didn’t have the same faith in us you did to stay and find out the truth, now I find out I left you alone and pregnant?” He stopped, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Why would you even keep the child? How can you forgive me all that, Megan?” His eyes searched mine, looking for answers. “I don’t understand.”
The depth of emotion in his gaze was overwhelming. Pain, regret, and torment churned in his wide stare. The edges of his eyes were so red-rimmed I knew he’d been crying before this conversation happened. He gasped as I reached up and cupped his face, his hands moving to cover mine right away, pressing them into his skin. “When you truly love, you forgive,” I whispered.
Hope colored his words. “And do you?”
I knew we had so much to work out—so much to talk about and deal with. His leaving, the pain he caused, the fears I’d been dealing with alone. The months I spent trying to rebuild my life. I didn’t even know where he’d been, or what he’d been doing all this time. There were fears I would have to face about him staying as well, but I also knew I still loved him.
“Yes.”
“The baby?”
“—is a part of us; it was all I had to hold on to of you.”