Epilogue
One year later…
Zola was exhausted. Mentally and physically. She sat on the floor in the second bedroom they’d converted into a nursery and rocked back and forth, holding the colicky baby girl. She was afraid to sit on the rocking chair for fear she would fall asleep and drop Liza.
Tears ran down her face in the dark. It was the middle of the night. She had to go back to work tomorrow. Her six weeks were up.
She closed her eyes and fought back a sob, biting her lip.
Liza continued to squirm, fighting sleep. She had just nursed. She had a dry diaper. Her life was perfect, but still she wouldn’t sleep. The only way to get her to stop crying was to hold her.
“Please, baby girl,” Zola pleaded softly, hugging the bundle to her chest.
A shadow fell over the two of them, and Zola lifted her face to find Mike leaning in the doorway. “You okay, babe?”
She nodded, unable to speak for fear she would reveal the barely held-back tears.
He was too sharp though. He eased into the room, crouched in front of her, and looked from her to their daughter. “I think she’s asleep, babe.” He gently lifted her from Zola’s arms and set her in her crib. “Come on,” he whispered.
He took her hand and urged her to stand, leading her from the room.
Zola’s tears fell without her permission.
Mike led her to their room, sat on the edge of their bed, and dragged her between his legs to hold her. He brushed a long lock of hair from her cheek. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head, knowing if she did, she would break down into an ugly cry. Instead, she set her head on his chest and held his biceps. She continued rocking into him as though she were still holding the baby.
He rubbed her arms, always comforting her. He’d been the best damn husband she could ask for. They hadn’t even been married yet when she realized she’d missed several pills during their run from the damn terrorists.
Nevertheless, he’d done nothing but hold her hair and rub her back during the early weeks when she’d been too shocked at the idea of being pregnant to even accept it. And then he’d been to every single appointment and asked all the right questions and read the baby books and put together the crib when she was still in denial and let her squeeze his hand to death at the birth and changed diapers… The list went on.
And he was still with her. Holding her. Rubbing her back. Soothing her with his words.
She knew what he thought. She knew he assumed she was suffering from some level of postpartum depression. And maybe she was, but that wasn’t the real problem. And she had to tell him. It was the eleventh hour of the eleventh month.
“Zola.” His voice was firmer. “Talk to me, babe.”
She swallowed back her tears. She had to tell him. She lifted her face and shoved off him, putting a few inches between them. “I can’t do it.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Okay. It’s gonna be okay, babe. You can’t do what exactly?” He reached for her biceps to tug her closer. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I’m totally here for you. Whatever you need. I can quit my job if you need. We can make it work. If you want me to stay home instead of putting Liza in daycare, give you a break, take on more of the household chores. I can do this.”
She stared at him. He was so far off base. And he was so damn fucking awesome. He would hand her the moon. She knew that. Why was it so hard to admit this weird convoluted piece of defeat as if she were less of a person?
He furrowed his brow. “Zola? Tell me.” He looked genuinely scared. “Is it me?” He swallowed. “Am I smothering you? Not picking up enough slack? We can get a counselor. Whatever you think.” His grip made her close her eyes.
She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No. Mike. It’s not you.” She exhaled forever and forced herself to continue. “I didn’t know it would feel like this. I would never have believed it. I thought people were crazy.”
“The depression? Hon, it’s perfectly normal. It happens to thousands of women every year. They have meds for that. We’ll get through it.”
She shook her head more vehemently. And then she shook her husband more vehemently. “Mike, shut up. Listen to me.”
“Sorry.” He pursed his lips. His eyes were wide with fear.
“I can’t leave her.”
“What?” He jerked in shock.
“I know. I know.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m supposed to be this high-power attorney and all. I’ve worked my ass off for this career. I made you quit your job to move here and be miserable. You work at a shit company doing something you hate, and you do it for me. I’ve made a total mess of things. But I didn’t know it would feel like this.”
She lifted her face. “I didn’t know I would love her so much. I didn’t know it would tear my heart out to leave her for even an hour. I can’t go to work tomorrow. I can’t go to work for eighteen years.”
Mike looked startled for a moment. His eyes slowly widened again as she watched his expression. And then a smile spread across his face, and he laughed. He tipped his head back and laughed so hard she got annoyed.
“This is serious, Mike. Why the hell are you laughing?”
He tugged her closer and kissed her forehead. “Zola. Baby. It’s okay. You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going off the deep end with depression. And all this time you’ve been struggling over the decision to go back to work?”
“Basically, yes.” It made her sick every time she thought about it. She didn’t care about the sleepless nights or the feedings or the crying or the exhaustion. She didn’t want to miss a moment of Liza’s life. Not a single second.
He laughed again.
“You’re not disappointed in me? Or mad? If I quit my job, we’ll struggle to pay the rent.”
He kissed her lips gently. “Not worried at all. If you want to switch, we’ll switch. I can get a better job in a heartbeat.”
She batted her eyes, feeling her face grow heated and pink. “Actually…”
“What?” He sounded nervous.
“Your boss has called me several times since Liza was born. He called me several times before she was born too.”
“My boss?”
She shook her head. “Not your current boss. Your boss at the FBI.”
“He called you? Why?” He narrowed his gaze.
“To see how I was doing. Or perhaps to feel me out to see if he could get you back.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Apparently the guy they hired in Atlanta left. They still need someone. I think your boss was hoping I would fall into the mom trap and give up my job.”
“I can’t believe it. He spoke to you about me?”
“Well, he didn’t come right out and directly say any of that, but I read between the lines. He was feeling me out.”
Mike smirked. “Then it’s already decided.”
“Well, I don’t mean to make you feel trapped. We can discuss it. We can—”
He cut her off. “Stop trying to be all diplomatic, baby. It’s a perfect plan.” He squeezed her arms again, and then his face fell. “Wait. You’re willing to move to Atlanta?”
She chewed on her lower lip. That was the hardest part. But yes. She was. “Yes. It’s perfect really. You’ll get to do what you love. I’ll get to stay home with the baby—my new love—and my dad can visit every few weeks or I’ll come up here. We can make it work.”
“And you’ll be okay not working? It’s been your life dream.”
She shrugged. “I did it. I’m moving on. It seemed like the most important thing in the world to me. But then Liza came. And now she is. Does that make sense?”
He smiled at her. “Perfect. I love you so much.”
“I love you too. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. I felt like a failure somehow. Millions of women work and raise kids. I’m defective or something.”
He chuckled. “You’re not defective. Everybody’s different. No one will fault you for raising our daughter.” He kissed her lips this time, nibbling a path to her ear. When he whispered against the sensitive globe, she shuddered. “I’m so relieved. I thought you were pulling away from me.”
“Never.”
“I love you. I love Liza too.”
“I know,” she told his shoulder. “I love you too.”
He pulled back. “Then it’s settled. We’re moving to Atlanta.”
“Yep.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “Now, I figure we have about fifteen minutes before that hellion starts screaming again. Mind if we spend it making out?”
“Actually, I’m officially back in business. I’d rather we spent it making love.”
He groaned. “Even better. Even better, baby.”