He tipped to one side and kissed her
The small gesture made my heart squeeze. Their little family was happy and whole. I wanted that too. My own little family. Our own weird quirks and traditions.
“Well done, Merry,” Gus said.
She beamed. “Dad and I had it all planned out.”
The brothers were all on their feet—Debbie too—hugging and congratulating the happy couple.
Gus gave my hand a squeeze
Instead of joy, I was flooded with nausea. Shit.
Owen and Lila were cheering on the screen, sneaking kisses. The people in this room were all grins and back slaps and joyous teasing. They had all come so far since Mitch’s arrest. I was happy for Gus and his siblings, but I couldn’t shake the sense that this wasn’t the type of happy ending I’d be getting.
Maybe it was my cynicism, or a suddenly developed inferiority complex, but as I sat, observing the moment, my anxiety spiked.
Though I felt off, I was happy to stay late. While we chatted and laughed and toasted the happy couple, I got to snuggle the baby one more time before we headed out.
“Would you like me to drop you off at home?” Gus asked. We’d been spending most nights together, and I had a bunch of stuff at his house. It was farther from work, but when I was there, a peacefulness I’d never found anywhere else always washed over me. When he stayed at my place, he’d bring Clementine, who loved barking at the loons on the lake in the morning.
Though he asked if I wanted him to drop me off, he really meant where are we sleeping tonight?
“I think I need to be alone,” I said, my stomach churning. My body was on high alert. I hated the emotions that had me in a chokehold, but until I had some time to work through them, there was no shaking them loose.
In my periphery, his face fell. I refused to look at him. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment I knew would be shining in his eyes.
“Sure. Can we talk about what’s bothering you first?” His tone was gentle but firm.
What was I supposed to say to him? I’m freaking out because you love me and we’re having a baby and I’ve spent a long time feeling undeserving of love and family and happiness?
No. I just needed to go home, stew, and deal with my shit.
We pulled up in front of my house, and once he’d cut the engine, he reached over to take my hand.
Silently, he held on to me. Patiently waiting for an explanation.
“I’m terrified,” I finally admitted, my voice a whisper.
My chest constricted, and my breaths were shallow. All I wanted to do was go inside, turn on reality TV, and pretend none of these problems existed.
Tears pricked at the backs of my eyes. God, I was such a cliché—the weeping pregnant woman. I was disgusted by my own weakness.
“I’ve always been good at handling what life throws at me,” I said, wiping away a tear. “I was a badass. I compartmentalized my feelings and got on with it.” A sniffle escaped me. Dammit. “Now look at me. I’m a crying mess. Pregnant and confused and terrified I’ll do the wrong thing or make the wrong decision.”
“Are you done?” he asked gently.
Pulling in a shaky breath, I nodded.
“We can work through it all together. But first, you have to let me in and accept that you can’t do it all yourself.”
I bristled at that comment, even if he had a point.
“I mean it.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the backs of my fingers. “If we’re going to do this and do it right, I need to trust that you’ll ask me for help.”
Logically, I knew he was right. Even so, my defenses engaged. I’d been on my own for a long time and had done a pretty excellent job.
“I’m working on it,” I said, gritting my teeth. “But trusting and sharing don’t come naturally to me.”
He laughed. “You think it’s easy for me?”
Fair point.
But saying it out loud, putting it out into the universe, would only make the fears more real. And then he’d know the truth. That I didn’t have everything under control. That I wasn’t the badass I pretended to be.
“You want me to share?” I finally asked, sniffling loudly. “You’ll regret asking.”
“Never,” he said, his brows pulled low and his mouth fixed in a straight line.
Like a dam had broken, the words came fast. There was no containing them any longer. “I am in a constant state of panic because I’m worried I’m not maternal enough, that I’m not loving enough to be a good mother. Happy now?” I wiped at my tearstained cheeks. “I worry I’m deficient. I look at Celine and how easily motherhood came to her, and I worry that I’ll fuck it up.”
I stopped there, desperate for a breath. Gus watched me, his eyes full of sympathy. Before he could speak, I went on.
“Then there’s the nagging fear that my geriatric uterus isn’t up for the job and something will go wrong. I’m forty. In olden days, I’d be a grandmother or dead by now, not having my first baby. The fear of my body failing this child is all-consuming.”
“Chloe,” he said.
I held up a hand. “You asked, and now I’m telling you.” I was gaining speed, and nothing would stop me.
