I waited a month and told him right before a game. He was thrilled because he said his plan was all coming together. He was back from his injury and starting in the game that night, and now he was going to be a father. He promised me dinner, just the two of us, and a night of lovemaking to celebrate. But we spent that night in the emergency room. Him getting MRIs and hearing the worst news possible when it came to his career.
I fold and stuff the small jersey into the front of my suitcase, needing the memory that at one point in our life, he loved our baby.
The wheels on my suitcase slide along the floor, and Jamison’s feet hang off the couch while a soccer game plays on the television. It’s always one soccer game after another, as if he’s torturing himself for not being on that field.
I place the latest ultrasound picture on the kitchen table. Peeking over the couch, his eyes are closed and his clothes are wrinkled and stained. Where did that boy I fell in love with disappear to? Tears puddle in my eyes, watching his chest rise and fall. I haven’t seen a genuine smile on his beautiful face in months.
“I’ll never stop loving you,” I murmur, reaching to touch him one final time.
But I pull back because if I wake him, I’ll cower. I’ll stay, and I can’t do that to our daughter. She deserves more than this. So instead I step back, one step at a time, until I’m at the door. Inhaling a final breath, I soak in the apartment that holds so many good memories—having sex on every surface, the celebrations of games won, coming home to him in the kitchen trying to make my favorite dishes, me seducing him while he watched game tapes for hours.
There are dark memories here too though—the nights spent pacing when he didn’t answer his phone, the fights about his drinking, the broken bottle I threw against the wall, the untrusting version of myself who searched his phone for any evidence that he was cheating on me. But I push those memories aside because that isn’t us. That’s not Jamison and me. We had years of happiness before we had all those months.
I walk out, shutting the door quietly. Outside the door, my feet stop as if they’re stuck in tar. My hand runs down my belly. Is it right to take her away from him? Maybe I’m a horrible person. Then by the elevator, I spot an empty bottle of whiskey with a piece of paper beside it. Crouching, I pick up the bottle. It’s Jamison’s favorite brand, and the piece of paper has a name and number in a girly scrawl.
I drop the bottle, press the down button, and when the elevator arrives, I don’t look back.
I’m making the right decision. I just have to make peace with it.
Two little arms wrap around my legs and squeeze. I glance down to see Palmer all changed and grinning. Jamison is right—she’s happier when he’s here. Like some wish she’s been dreaming of was granted.
I touch her back, impatient to be able to pick her up and hold her close. Taking her plate, I sign for her to come to the table and place the plate down in her spot, then I bend to pick her up.
“Whoa, I’ll do that.” Jamison swoops up Palmer and places her in her high chair. He figures out the buckles without any help from me.
He pretends to steal a cracker from her, and she claps with a huge smile. Dread fills my body. She’s going to prefer him over me soon.
A knock lands on the apartment door, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful to have an interruption. I open the door and Calista walks in with Dion, the two of them beelining it to Palmer’s chair and sidling up next to her. Rome follows with an upset Phoebe in his arms.
“Where’s Linus?” I ask, wondering what’s under the foil-covered dish in Rome’s hand.
“A mommy and me class or something. Harley’s worried about not getting enough time with Linus.” He heads to the kitchen.
Phoebe slides into a chair and mopes.
“Hence the reason Phoebe looks like her hamster got flushed down the toilet. She wanted to go with them,” he adds.
“I wanted to go to the park,” she says, crossing her arms and huffing.
Rome rolls his eyes. He hasn’t acknowledged Jamison’s presence yet, but he hasn’t cussed him out either, so baby steps.
Calista signs hi, how are you? to Palmer. She’s just learning some sign language, but I love that she’s trying. Everyone has gotten on board.
“Did I tell you that Harley signed up Dion and Calista for sign language classes? Maverick is going too.”
“That’s awesome,” I say, suppressing the urge to cry. Just the thought of how supportive my family has been, brings tears to my eyes.
“You can sign really fast,” Calista says to Jamison.
He must have been signing something to Palmer. My attention moves to the table and off Rome.
“I probably started learning around your age. Maybe younger,” Jamison says, signing everything he’s saying.
Palmer stares at her father as if he’s her idol. Rome pokes my side and shakes his head, reading my thoughts.
“I have a great idea! How about Jamison takes everyone to the park?” Rome claps his hands.
Jamison’s eyes widen. “Umm…”
“You’ll need to bond with the kids anyway. Plus, Calista will show you the way.” Rome slides out the chair Phoebe is in.
“Are you sure? All of them?” Jamison keeps looking at me, and I stifle a laugh.
“Calista is responsible,” Rome says.
Palmer kicks the high chair to get out, seeing that everyone is leaving. Dion unhooks her and he tries to lift her out, but Jamison helps. Rome and I work as a team to shuffle them all out of the apartment with promises of being right behind them.
As we shut the door, I laugh and clench my stomach because laughter makes it ache. “You’re cruel.”
Rome chuckles and puts the foil-covered dish in the fridge. “I put the instructions on top for you. Mac and cheese.”
“Thanks.” I clean up Palmer’s dish and head to the kitchen sink.
Rome washes his hands and leans against the counter, drying his hands with a towel. “Why don’t you sit down and take it easy? You’re doing too much.”
Even though my abdomen aches, I wave him off. “I’m fine.”
“Seems like Jamison really wants to be involved. I’m jealous of his signing abilities.”
I glance over my shoulder. Rome bears that look. The one that says he drove them out to have a chat. Rome’s a great secret-keeper, the only one in our family really. I trust him, but I’m not ready yet to open up. “Yeah, he says he wants another chance.”
“With you?”
“Palmer.” I take the towel and dry my hands, leaning against the opposite counter.
Rome raises his eyebrows. “Only Palmer?”
“I’m not available.”
He nods and looks around. “You got some fuck buddy I don’t know about?”
“No. I’m not available to Jamison.”
A smirk tilts his lips. “You’ve been available to Jamison forever. Can I offer some advice?”
“No.”
He chuckles. “It’s hard to bond with your daughter when you’ve already missed so much.”
“It’s hardly the same thing, Rome.” If he thinks he’s going to compare his scenario to mine, I’ll list the million reasons they’re different. The first one being that Harley couldn’t find Rome. Jamison knew where I was the whole time.