“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you’ve been waiting for?” he asks, dragging a hand through his hair. “For me to fuck up so you can walk away without feeling guilty?”
I shake my head in disbelief. “What? No. Don’t try to turn this around on me.”
“Fuck,” he grunts. “That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m just lost here. I don’t know why you won’t believe me. I don’t want you to leave. I made a mistake. I said things I didn’t mean. Why the fuck aren’t you listening to me when I tell you that?”
“I’m listening,” I stress, digging my keys out of my pocket. “I hear you. And I want to believe you. But what you said in there, you said with so much passion. I just…”
He sighs and looks at the ground. “Go. If you need time away from me to think, then go.”
I don’t answer him with words. Instead, I climb into my car and leave.
I wait until I’m far enough away from the hospital that he can’t see me, and then I pull my car off the road. Dropping my forehead to the steering wheel, I bury my face in my hands and cry.
Several minutes pass. My phone vibrates, and I sit up. Wiping the tears from my face, I reach for my phone, secretly hoping it’s Lincoln begging me to come back. My hope dissipates when I see Mo’s name lighting up the screen.
Girls night started an hour ago and you’re still not here. Do I need to send out a search party?
Shit. Sorry, I forgot.
Don’t apologize. Just get your ass here.
Rain check?
Everything okay?
No, nothing is okay, and right now I feel as though it’ll never be okay again. But I can’t tell her that because she’ll show up at my house, insert herself into my problems, and not give up until I tell her everything. Right now, I just really want to be alone.
Everything is great.
Her response is immediate. Dinner tomorrow night?
Maybe. Let’s keep in touch.
Are you in Houston?
Not anymore. I’m heading home.
Tossing my phone onto the passenger seat, I put my car in drive and head toward Heaven. To my home, not the one I’ve been sharing with Lincoln for the past week. I make the drive on autopilot, my brain circulating the events of the last seven days. Exhausted, when I arrive I climb out of my car, unlock the front door, and drop my purse on the couch.
Everything is as I left it a week ago.
I kick the door shut, lock it, and walk straight to my bedroom. Setting my phone on the nightstand, I peel off my clothes and drop them to the floor before collapsing on the bed. It still smells of Lincoln from the last time we were here together.
Burying my face in the pillow he used, I cry.
I cry for his family.
I cry for the relationship with him I desperately wanted.
I cry because I’m scared and alone, and I don’t know how to move forward.
I cry for our unborn baby.
And then those cries turn to a sob when my phone vibrates with an incoming text from Lincoln.
It’s about more than feelings. It’s about your smile. I love your smile.
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