Erin is at work. I don’t work until next week, and I’m trying to get some much-needed rest. So someone please tell me why it sounds like the cops are trying to beat my door down. I shove the covers off and throw my robe over me to cover my ass. When I swing the door open, I’m ready to go off on the person standing on the other side, whoever is interrupting my precious sleep is about to get the short end of the stick.
I’m so annoyed, I don’t even bother looking through the peephole, so it’s an understatement to say I’m surprised to see Ryan standing there. He looks nice, in a button-down shirt, dark jeans, and boots. Oh my God. What is he doing here?
His eyes go straight to my protruding belly, which I try to smother with my robe, but it’s a little too late for that at this point. I didn’t think it would be appropriate to tell him, too much like putting salt in an open wound. Or maybe I’m just a coward, but either way, I haven’t told him, and I didn’t plan on him seeing me half naked to find out. He’s got his sunglasses on, keeping me from reading his face, but I can only imagine what’s running through his mind.
“Shit, Leylah. I knew this would fucking happen.” He runs a hand down his face and scratches his stubble. “I’ve sent you texts, called you, because I genuinely care about you. You were a huge part of my life. Ten years is a long time. And not once could you even bother to tell me you’re fucking pregnant?” He’s quiet for a moment, and I’m still rendered silent. “Is he here?”
What?
“No, he’s not here! What the hell is your problem? You don’t get to come over here and barge in on me like this and pretend to care. Not now. Not after all those times I begged you to talk about our relationship and you shut me down. How many times did I try to talk to you and you got mad and went to bed without a care in the world?” I’m out of breath, and I know I’m a sight to be seen with my belly sticking out of my too-small T-shirt, in my undies, and going on day three of dry-shampooed hair.
Ryan stands there staring out into the street for a moment. “You know, I guess a part of me thought this would just go away. You’d miss me and come back home.” He looks over at me, and I can see one lone tear leaking out from his sunglasses. “But this is really happening, isn’t it?”
His honesty hits me like a punch in the throat. Our relationship didn’t make it, and he’s right, ten years is a long time. It hurts. It hurts a lot. It makes it worse seeing this man who I fell for all those years ago standing in front of me, so wide open and vulnerable. It makes me angry that he couldn’t show me feelings before now. It might have helped save our marriage if he had just given me something, anything. If he would have just slowed down and fucking looked at me.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I told you about Roman, and me and you,” I wave my finger between our bodies, “we’re not together anymore. You signed those papers too, Ryan. All too easily. You can’t just wait until I’m with someone else and decide to swoop back in and give a shit.” Breathe, just breathe. My wall is going back up. If I’m angry, I can control my tears better.
Ryan slowly nods, still not looking in my direction. He stands there a few more seconds, and I can’t help but wonder how long he’s going to do this. How much longer till he puts us out of our misery and leaves. He finally takes a step toward me and wraps his hand around the back of my head before kissing my forehead. “I hope he makes you happy, Ley.”
He turns and jogs over to his truck. The engine roars to life. Watching him and hearing the all-too-familiar rumble brings back memories, like of him picking me up for one of our first times going out together.
Ryan holds the door open for me, and I sit there in the passenger seat until he climbs into the truck and lifts the center console. I scoot over toward him, and he puts his arm around my neck and kisses my temple. We drive out to his Papaw’s cabin in the middle of nowhere and just sit there in the truck with the heater on. Listening to the loud lull of the engine as we talk about our future, while being held so tight in his arms, is my favorite pastime.
I feel myself breaking all over again. I can’t get the door shut fast enough when all I see is his taillights. I slide down the door and cry my eyes out.
I wake with a jolt; my belly is tight, and I need water in the worst way. My tongue feels like sandpaper. After Ryan left, I didn’t bother moving from my spot by the door. I sat there and cried like a toddler until I fell asleep. Judging by how I feel right now, I slept for a couple hours.
It’s a struggle to get up off the floor. I remember I was sleeping when he came here in the first place, so I go to my bed in search of my phone. I missed Roman’s calls and a FaceTime call while I was out of it. I’ll call him back, but first: pee then water.
I can’t ignore how tight my belly is. This isn’t normal for me. I don’t know if it’s because I was so upset or what, but I know my body. I know what Braxton Hicks contractions are, and I’m pretty sure this is it. I decide to down another big glass of water and take a warm bath to see if that eases some of this discomfort.
When I’m seated in the bath, I lie back and try to relax while I FaceTime Roman.
“Sup, beautiful?”
“Okay, now I know you’re full of shit.” I laugh, because he’s so good to me. I just ugly cried in my foyer and drooled all over the floor half-naked for hours, and he still calls me beautiful.
“You been sleepin’?” he asks.
I nod. “I don’t feel right at all. I think I’m having some Braxton Hicks. Thought I’d see if the water helps.
“Braxton what?”
“Braxton Hicks. It’s like false contractions.”
“Babe, I don’t like this,” he says, frowning, still in constant caveman mode over a thousand miles away.
If it were up to him, I wouldn’t even still be working, but I want to work for as long as I can. With Roman and the baby, I’m not sure what’s going to happen. Roman obviously can’t move here with BCM, and I don’t want him to, because I know that’s not what he wants. I need stability for myself, on my own. I can’t leave it all up to the man this time. I’ve learned that the hard way, way too late in life.
“I know. We’ll figure it out, right?”
He puts his tools down and walks into his office. “How am I supposed to help you from here?”
“Just seeing your face helps.” He’s greasy, and his clothes are dirty. He rubs his hand down his face, and those tattooed fingers—even when I’m in pain—they turn me on. He makes me forget about the rest of the world.
“Leylah, I’m serious. You need me, and I can’t do shit about it from here.”
“You couldn’t do anything if you were here either. It’s probably just stress.” What I don’t say is that my ex-husband was just here, exposing his feelings all over my porch. It tends to bring on a lot of stress.
My bath is not helping. I’m irritable, and it’s been a long day.
“These things happen all the time, trust me.”
“Not to you they don’t. Go lay down. Call Erin to take you in and get checked out. Don’t argue with me on this.”
“Okay. You’re right, I will.”
“Love you, babe. Call me when you get there.”
“I love you too.”
We end our call, and I soak for another minute longer, only because then I have to actually get out and get dressed. Ugh. The thought of being poked and prodded is almost enough to talk me out of going. I know firsthand it’s a lot of hurry up and wait, but Roman is right. It’s our baby girl, and I need to take care of her.
Over twenty-four hours later, I’m being wheeled out to the car and on my way home. I was severely dehydrated and having contractions. After being on IV fluids all night, I’m starting to feel human again. Once I got some decent fluids pumping through my veins, my contractions started slowing down, and they released me to light bed rest until I’m cleared by my doctor. Bed rest. Something I was not expecting on my radar.
Erin parks in her spot and carries my bag in for me. I walk in behind her, and I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Either that or they gave me something besides fluids in my IV. Roman is standing in my living room, in a wide stance with his arms crossed. Typical caveman.
“What are you doing here?” I practically mow Erin down to get to him. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight.
Safe.
In his arms.
“Bed rest, you two,” Erin scoffs. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”
All I can do is nod back, even though she probably can’t see me. I hear her door click closed softly and look up at Roman. “You’re here.”
“Anything for you, babe,” he says, barely above a whisper, and kisses my forehead. “Barely beat you here. I was gonna come sooner but grabbed the earliest flight I could. Erin said you guys were coming home this morning when I called. Figured I’d surprise you.”
“Are you hungry?”
He quirks his eyebrows up. “Nah, babe. Not hungry. Just wanna get you in bed to rest.” He pulls me by the hand and leads me down the hallway. He’s right. I need rest. I’m exhausted.