Seventeen
Graham
I leaned against the doorjamb as I watched Libby sit on the edge of my daughter’s bed. She was reading a book to her and Lizzie was enjoying every second of it. The light in my daughter’s eyes as Libby turned each and every page was unmistakable, and I enjoyed the way they were always bonding when Libby came over. The boys had taken to her already, but they were pretty friendly toddlers. They’d take to just about anyone if they spent enough time around them. But Lizzie was a different story. She was skeptical of anyone that came around. She was the child that always clung to my pant leg if she was ever meeting someone new.
But she never did that with Libby.
Not once.
The way the two of them had bonded warmed my heart. Lizzie would go running across the marble floors of our home to rip open the door whenever Libby arrived for dinner. She’d catapult herself into Libby’s arms and hug her tightly, the two of them smiling until it hurt. Lizzie would talk her ear off and Libby took it in stride, answering all of her questions as if they were the most important thing in the world.
And her bond with the boys was priceless. She never hesitated to take them and change them if I was busy with something. She learned her way around the house quickly and would do things like get them sippy cups full of milk and put them in their playpens. When they cried, she would jump to figure out what was wrong. When they yawned, she wouldn’t hesitate to take them both upstairs and bed them down early. She was the first to volunteer herself for bath time and even bought these tablets that made the water the boys were in change colors.
Libby had no idea how naturally this all came to her, and every time she was around I saw the mother in her emerge.
Libby tucked my daughter tightly underneath the covers before coming to turn out the light. She smiled up at me before she shut the door, then the two of us were alone in the hallway. The past four weeks with her had been phenomenal. We had family dinners at my house so the kids could get to know her, then we’d cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie with a milkshake or something her stomach could tolerate. She was starting to tip into her second trimester, so her nausea was abating. But not by much. There were still moments where I could call her to talk and I could tell she had just been sick.
I hated it for her. I wanted to take it all away from her and shoulder it myself.
“How was tucking in the boys?” Libby asked.
“They’re the easy ones. Lizzie’s the high-maintenance child,” I said.
“She doesn’t seem high-maintenance to me. Brushing her teeth, picking out pajamas, picking out a book to read and snuggling underneath the covers is pretty straightforward.”
“I put the boys in pants and lay them down with blankets,” I said.
“Then you simply don’t understand how a girl works,” she said, giggling.
“I knew enough to snag someone like you.”
“Well, don’t make it sound so romantic,” she said flatly.
“Come on,” I said, chuckling. “There’s raspberry sorbet waiting for us downstairs.”
I took Libby’s hand in mine and guided her back downstairs. Every once in a while, I caught her gawking at my home. Compared to what she lived in, it was pretty outlandish. Hell, compared to what everyone lived in, it was pretty outlandish. But I wanted a space my kids could bring all their friends to and not feel like I was breathing down their necks. I also wanted a place where I felt the kids could roam without ruining my space. It worked for us, even though it seemed bombastic and overdone to most.
Her favorite room of my house so far was the library. It sat at the back of the house and was completely off limits to the kids. They had their own little library with age-appropriate books of all kinds—coloring books with crayons taped to the inside and cardboard picture books, children’s poetry books and those little puppet books that had all the things the boys could touch and feel and explore.
The library at the back of the house, however, was fit for an adult. It had its own fireplace and cozy nooks with reading chairs. It had a large window on the far side of the wall that overlooked the hillside slope of the property. The windowsill was decorated with a plush cushion and had blankets folded in the corner, and the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were piled high with books, both read and unread by all in the house.
There was a coffee station in case the reader wanted coffee and a small, miniature bar in case the reader wanted something stronger. There were blankets and fuzzy socks and anything else I could think of to make the person enjoying this space as relaxed as possible.
And every single time, Libby would gravitate to that room.
“I can’t imagine what a place like this must cost,” Libby said.
“I can’t believe you haven’t gotten used to it,” I said.
“I don’t think I will. You’ve seen where I live. That’s what I’m used to.”
“Well, get used to all this. Because you’re carrying my child and the two of you will have the best.”
“I don’t need the best, Graham.”
“But you deserve the best. And I want to give it to you.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I never said you did.”
“All I want is your support through all this.”
“And you have it,” I said. “All of it. For as long as you want it. And it’ll be the best support you could ever receive.”
“I don’t need the best, Graham.”
“Before we get into this pitiful little fight that will end with you underneath me, I have something I want to talk about,” I said with a grin.
“And simply because you said that, no sex for you,” she said.
“That’s what you think.”
“You’re insane. You know that?”
“For you, maybe,” I said. I walked out of the library toward the kitchen. She followed, just like I knew she would.
I watched her cheek flush underneath my words as we stood in the middle of the kitchen.
“Anyway, what is it you wanna talk about?” she asked.
“I was wondering if we had reached an appropriate time to tell the kids about their new sibling.”
“Now? I mean… you want to tell the kids now?” she asked.
I watched the color drain from Libby’s face as I pulled the sorbet from the freezer.
“You know we have to tell them sometime. Eventually you’re going to start showing and they’ll start asking questions,” I said. “And by ‘them,’ I mean Lizzie.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know that. I just… don’t really know how they’ll react. And by ‘they,’ I mean Lizzie. The boys are too young to understand what’s going on.”
“Yep... I mean, they turn two next month. But Lizzie? She’ll be excited,” I said.
“How do you know?”
“She was ecstatic when her mother got pregnant with the twins.”
“But I’m not her mother,” she said.
I scooped us up two bowls of sorbet and carried it over to where she was sitting. I could see the panic ebbing behind her eyes and it hurt. What was she panicking over? The kids loved her. The dinners were going fantastic and they were even asking about her during the week, wondering if she would ‘come over and play’ or go on our family outings with us on the weekends.
“Talk to me,” I said. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”
“This is my first child, Graham. I just don’t want to spend it fielding other people’s disappointment and anger.”
“Why would anyone be disappointed or angry at you being pregnant?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” she said as she picked up her spoon. “But it could happen, right?”
“Libby, you can’t worry yourself about stuff like that. Especially when you don’t know how people around going to react. Look at me. Did I seem disappointed or angry when you told me?”
“No. But you were obligated to be happy.”
“Obligated?” I asked.
“Yeah. Anything else would’ve made you look like a bigger ass.”
My eyebrows ticked up as I watched Libby play with her sorbet. Her eyes were cast out the window and she was gazing off into the nighttime sky. This was about something else. There was something else bothering her that she wasn’t talking about. Something that had been rumbling around in her system for far too long without speaking about it.
“If we’re going to raise a child together, we have to be able to talk this out,” I said.
“I just… don’t know if telling your kids is the right thing to do.”
“Why not?” I asked. “Don’t you want them to know their little brother or sister?”
“I do. So much, Graham. But I don’t…”
“What, Libby? What is it? Just say it.”
“I don’t want them thinking we’re together. I don’t want them thinking I’m going to be their new mother when we don’t… even know what this is.”
I saw tears welling in her eyes as she pushed her bowl of sorbet away from her. That was what this was all about. Libby still wasn’t sure if we should be together. Despite all the wonderful dinner nights and the dates we had and the phone calls we shared, she still wasn’t sure.
“Libby, look at me.”
I watched her turn her watery gaze to mine and it broke my heart.
“What else can I do to prove to you that we belong together?” I asked.
“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean we belong together, Graham.”
“I’m not talking about your pregnancy, Libby. Even before that. Before you came to my doorstep and found out about my family, there was something between us. I know you felt it.”
“Graham, I-”
“I know I damaged your trust in me. I know I intentionally pulled the wool over your eyes. But it was only to protect my kids. It’s always ever been to protect my kids. And pretty soon, I’ll be protecting our kid as well as you. No matter what it takes.”
“Graham, I just-”
“Tell me what I can do. I’m willing to do anything. I want a family with you, Libby. I want this. With you.”
“I need time, Graham. I just… I need time.”
I watched her get up from her seat and grab her things in the corner. She fluttered down the hallway, her hips swaying lightly and her feet sliding across the floor. Even at three months pregnant, she still moved with the grace she’d had at that wedding. The wedding that brought us together and established me as her protector before I ever knew what I was in for with her.
I jumped up from my seat and raced after her, catching her wrist before she walked out the door.
“Stay with me,” I said.
I watched her body still, but she didn’t turn to look at me.
“I know it’s not fair of me to ask. I know you asked that of me so many times when we were together before. But I promise you, if you stay, you’ll never want for anything. You’ll be cared for, and protected, and cherished. I’ll never force anything on you that you don’t want, and I’ll never ask anything of you that I know you can’t give.”
I heard her sigh, then felt her pull her wrist from my grasp.
“You’re right,” she said as she stepped out onto the porch. “It’s not fair of you to ask.”
Then she walked down the steps, headed to her car, and drove off into the night.