I breathe in and out as I try to process everything that’s happening
inside of me right now.
He looks really good. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, I forgot
how beautiful he is. I have an urge to run down the hallway and jump
into his arms. I want to feel his mouth on mine. I want to hear him
tell me how much he loves me. I want him to lie down next to me and
put his hand on my stomach like I’ve imagined him doing so many
times.
It would be so easy. My life would be so much easier right now if I
would just forgive him and take him back.
I close my eyes and repeat the words my mother said to me. “If Ryle
truly loves you, he wouldn’t allow you to take him back.”
That reminder is the only thing that prevents me from running
down the hallway.
- • •
I keep myself busy in the kitchen for the next hour as he remains in
the nursery. I eventually have to walk past it to grab my phone charger
from my room. On my way back down the hallway, I pause at the door
of the nursery.
The crib is assembled. He even put the bedding on. He’s standing
over it, gripping the railing, staring inside the empty crib. He’s so
quiet and still, he looks like a statue. He’s lost in thought and doesn’t
even notice me standing outside the doorway. It makes me wonder
where his mind has wandered.
Is he thinking about the baby? The child he won’t even be living
with when it sleeps in that very crib?
Until this moment, I wasn’t sure if he even wanted to be a part of
the baby’s life. But the look on his face proves to me that he does. I’ve
never seen so much sadness in one expression, and I’m not even
facing him straight on. I feel like the sadness he’s feeling in this
moment has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do
with thoughts of his child.
He glances up and sees me standing in the doorway. He pushes off
the crib and shakes himself out of his trance. “Finished,” he says,