“You’re not dealing with it, though.” I move toward him so I can look up into his eyes. “You’re masking it. Masking it will only make your grief worse.”
He cocks his head and eyes me harshly. “I’ve told you not to psychoanalyze me, Jones.”
“Well, clearly someone needs to.” This is the wall he’s built. This is the divide between us. “Kayla says you don’t talk to anyone from Baltimore anymore.”
“Stop it, Lynsey.”
“Josh—”
“Enough,” he snaps, and the angry veins in his neck give my heart a jolt.
He turns on his heel and storms past me toward the bedroom. I follow because this is the first glimpse of a real explanation I’ve gotten for the way he is, and if he could just deal with this and push through it, then maybe we could be a family. Maybe he could be open to love again.
I stand in the doorway as Josh changes out of his scrubs into a pair of joggers. His body is taut as he yanks a T-shirt off the shelf.
“That letter is from Julian’s father, isn’t it?” I cross my arms over my chest.
He heaves an exhale, all of his abs visible with that one breath. “Why can’t you just leave it?”
“You should open it.”
“I don’t need to open it.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what it will say.”
“What will it say?”
“That I screwed up!” he growls, his voice deep and thundering. “That I killed his fucking kid. That I’m a monster.”
My heart lurches at the pain in his words that vibrate through the closet as he walks out to face me at the doorway. I steel myself to sound confident when I reply, “You don’t know that. Maybe he’s forgiven you.”
Josh narrows his eyes. “I don’t deserve his forgiveness.”
“Well, maybe I do.” I grab the shirt, halting him from putting it on for a moment so he can look me in the eyes. “Maybe I deserve to see you forgive yourself so we can be more.”
He closes his eyes as if in pain. “This isn’t about us.”
“I know it’s not, but can’t you see this is all connected?”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter if it is. I screwed up, and it cost my best friend his son’s life.”
“You’re human, Josh.” My voice wavers with the pain still radiating off him. “You’re not perfect.”
“I was, though,” he snaps, his tall frame bowing over me as his fiery green eyes connect with mine. “I’ve been perfect my whole damn life. Until Julian. Until you. Until this.”
He gestures to my belly.
I instinctually place my hand over our baby. “So, getting me pregnant was all a mistake?”
“Of course it was,” he booms, his temper boiling over.
His words are like a punch to my stomach. Like a punch to the life growing inside me. The life that can hear our voices and the life that I have easily fallen head over heels in love with.
This baby. My peanut…is not a mistake. This baby is my life. And it deserves better than being called a mistake.
I clutch my belly and stare at it as my voice trembles, “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
He grumbles under his breath. “Can you honestly say you would have wanted a child this way?”
I inhale deeply, the pain of this reality harsher than I could have ever imagined. “No, Josh, but now that I have this baby, I’m happy. And I would never ever call this a mistake. I love this baby too much to disrespect him or her like that. Don’t you?”
The muscle in his jaw ticks nervously, and my stomach somersaults. Holding the swell of my belly, I steal a breath before asking, “Do you love this baby, Josh?”
My eyes well with tears as I brace for his answer.
He purses his lips and pulls his T-shirt over his head, avoiding eye contact with me. “Don’t ask me questions like that, Lynsey.”
“Why not?”
“Because you won’t like the answer.”
And there it is: The truth I hadn’t allowed myself to consider.
“Do you think you’ll ever love this baby?” I ask, my voice wary as realization settles like a pit in my belly.
He shoves a hand through his hair. “You don’t get it, Jones.”
“What don’t I get?”
“If I love this baby, then I can’t see clearly. If I let my feelings get involved, then what happened to Julian could happen to you…or the baby. I need to keep a safe distance so I can take care of you.”
“So that’s your long-term plan? To be a robot dad and husband?”
“Yes,” he responds dryly.
I hold my hand to my chest as a sharp pain shoots through me at his admission. He’ll never love me. He’ll never love this baby. I struggle to take a breath, needing the wall to keep myself upright. Through my ragged breaths, I choke out my reply, “And you didn’t think you should tell me that at some point?”
“It doesn’t fucking matter because it doesn’t fucking change anything,” he snaps, his eyes turning to slits. “Nothing will ever change this situation.”
“I hate that you’re still calling this a situation.” I close my eyes and force myself to inhale and exhale slowly. Tears falling down my face are the pain inside forcing its way out. “It’s like we’re right back to where we started. We haven’t moved forward even a fraction of a step. How could I be so stupid?”
I turn on my heel, fighting back the nausea this conversation has brought on. This is too much. This is too painful. I can’t put myself through this. Taking a deep breath, I march out of the room, heading to my bedroom to grab my bag.
I blindly shove things in it, underwear, pants, shirts, sweats.
I really wish my hands would stop shaking.
Josh appears in my room with a grave look on his face. “What are you doing?”
“I’m leaving,” I croak, my emotions bubbling over. “I should have left a long time ago.”
“You’re not leaving,” he states firmly as I move past him to head into the bathroom.
“Watch me.” I cram toiletries into my bag, willing my tears to stop. He doesn’t deserve my tears. He doesn’t deserve me.
Josh stands, clutching the doorframe like a lifeline. “Where will you go? Your parents’?”
“I’ll go to Dean’s.” I relish the sting that answer will provide. “He’s a good friend. He’s supportive. He actually loves me.”
Josh’s grip tightens on the wood trim, a crack echoing off the bathroom walls. “Of all the people you could go to…it has to be him?”
I shrug defiantly. “I want it to be him. I need someone who’s going to love what’s going on inside me. Someone who won’t treat me and this baby like a patient or a mistake. Dean’s never treated me like that. His initial reaction to this was ten times better than yours.”
“So that’s it? You’re just done with me?” he growls, his eyes growing red around the edges. “Never mind the fact that we’re engaged and that child you’re carrying is half mine?”
I plant a sick smile on my face while my spirit crumples inside me. I wish I could stay. I wish I could let him take care of me and be what he is and not need anything more from him. But it’s not enough. And it never will be.