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“Hi, Stella. This is Grant Roman. Miles Bradshaw gave me your number and asked that I help you find an apartment.”
“Thank you, Grant, but I won’t be needing your services after all.”
“Oh?”
“I already found an apartment,” I lied.
“I understand. Well, you have my number if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” I ended the call and sighed.
I thought long and hard about Jordyn’s plea for me to move to Connecticut. As much as I’d love to be near her again, New York was my home. I loved the city and wouldn’t let Miles Bradshaw drive me out of it. I would continue attending NYU for my doctorate, graduate, get a job, and be the best mother I could. Loving Miles Bradshaw hurt me, but hating him hurt me even more.
* * *
Miles
I tucked my hands into my pants pockets, lowered my head, and walked out of the Sculptural Gardens. I texted Sean and told him I needed some time alone and that I’d text him when I needed him to pick me up. The chaos in my mind was unbearable. Between work and Stella, it was too much.
As I walked down the city streets, I saw a couple looking at an engagement ring through the window of a jewelry store.
“Let’s go in and try it on. I know it’ll look beautiful on you.” The man smiled at his future wife as I walked by.
I stopped and turned around. “You two are getting engaged?” I asked.
“Yes, we are.” The man smiled. “I already proposed, but I wanted her to pick out the ring she loved the most.”
“Congratulations.” I nodded.
“Thank you,” the woman spoke.
I turned and continued walking. The sun hid behind the clouds, and suddenly, the small raindrops that fell onto my head turned into a downpour. A woman pushing a baby carriage rushed to the bakery where I sought shelter. I opened the door for her and motioned for her to step inside.
“Thank you so much.” She smiled.
“You’re welcome. How old?” I pointed to the small child in the carriage.
“She’s six weeks old today,” the woman spoke.
“She’s cute.”
“Thank you.”
I ordered a coffee and a cherry Danish, taking it to a table by the window while waiting for the rain to stop.
The woman with the baby sat at the table next to me. I stared at her as she lifted the child from the carriage. She looked at me strangely. She probably thought I was a stalker.
“I apologize for staring. My wife is expecting.”
“Oh. How far along is she?”
“Seven weeks now.”
“Your first?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Well, she’s lucky to have you by her side. This little one’s father took off when I told him I was pregnant.”
