My Babies and Me

“Of course you are.” It hurt her to hear him say that—as if it were something she might not have known otherwise. “But a lot of decent men are divorced, living separate lives from their children.”

“They still provide for them.”

He had her there. And finally, she understood. Her plan had one little loophole that had turned into a big one. Michael’s conscience.

She felt sick to her stomach for the first time in months.

“So.” He sat down on the end of the bed and put on his socks. “The first thing I’m going to do is set up a bank account for their financial needs. I’ll get to work on that immediately.”

“Michael.” Susan sat down beside him and stayed his hand as he reached for his shoes. “It’s one o’clock in the morning.”

He stopped momentarily, then picked up a shoe. “Well, I can get everything on paper and be ready when the bank opens in the morning.”

“I don’t need your money.” She had to get through to him. To make him understand that he wasn’t deserting his children. “I have enough put away to pay for college right now.”

“That was when you thought you were having one child.”

“I could put three children through college tomorrow if I had to.”

Nodding, as though not in the least surprised, he sat there, just holding his shoe.

“I have to do something.”

“We don’t need you, Michael,” she told him, trying with every ounce of strength she had not to cry. If this was what they meant by tough love, she wasn’t sure she was going to make a good parent, after all.

Turning, he looked at her, his eyes filled with understanding—and a hint of hopelessness, as well. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Sus,” he said, seeing right through her. Or, probably more accurately, into her. “But even if you don’t need me, you can’t speak for those babies. One to one, I was trying to justify, but two to one isn’t fair odds. Not for you. But also not for them.”

“So what are you saying?” Her cheeks felt like ice. Her whole body was freezing. From the inside out.

“I don’t know,” he told her, gazing straight ahead. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten. Except—” He broke off.

“What?” Her stomach clenched.

He stood, turning to face her, his hands on his hips. “I think that for the next couple of weeks, while I’m in town, I should stay here.”

They’d said they’d talk about that. And for a while, she’d been hoping he’d decide to stay. She was used to him coming and going in her life. As untraditional as their relationship might be, it worked for them. Most of the time. But...

“You’re always welcome, Michael, you know that, but you don’t sound too happy about the idea.” She took a deep breath. “And, under the circumstances, I’m not sure I’m happy about it, either.”

“It’s the circumstances that make it the only feasible idea.”

“I don’t follow you.” She frowned. “You need some space, some time to work this through in your mind, to figure out what to do, what feels right. What’ll make you happy.”

“My happiness isn’t the issue at the moment,” he told her, and because she knew he meant every word, her heart started to break. It was too late. She’d done to him the very thing she’d sworn she’d never do. The thing she was afraid she’d already done. She’d trapped him. Maybe not in her life, maybe not in her home, but in his heart.

“And I’ve had space,” he continued, pacing from the bed to the closet to the door and back again. “Four months’ worth with no answers forthcoming.”

“But you just found out about the twins today!”

“Maybe.” He still paced steadily. “But the issue has been in the forefront of my mind, anyway. It was just a little easier to justify no involvement when there was only one child to consider.” Stopping at the window, he stared out into the night. Feeling helpless, she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him.

“Let me stay here, Susan,” he said, his voice tinged with a note of begging. It was so unlike

Michael, it brought the tears rushing to her eyes before she could stop them. “Let me try for these few weeks, see what I can do, what I can live with.”

Let me see how bad it’s going to be, this being trapped, she translated for him.

“Of course you can stay,” she told him. But there wasn’t even a spark of excitement, of anticipation, of happiness, in her acquiescence.