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She looks like I’m breaking her heart. Dammit, if I’m honest, that’s how I feel right now, too, like someone is tearing my heart out by the roots. “Anna, I’m sorry. I’m just not ready…”
She nods, but I see the tears welling in her eyes, and then one spills over and runs down her cheek. I swear it feels like a red-hot poker to my chest. She jumps up and then runs out of the room.
I sit there feeling like a jerk, a fool. A lovesick fool. I pull away from the table and then drop my head in my hands. I love you, Anna. Why can’t I forget the past and admit my feelings to her? Why can’t I tell her that I love her? Because then she’d want me to marry her… and I’m not ready for that yet.
What started as a wonderful day spent making love now feels torn apart by her anguish.
I turn to follow Anna, but my footsteps slow and then halt. I need to give her some space.
Turning, I grab up keys; then I stop again. I should at least leave her a note. I walk over to the counter and get the pad of paper and a pen. I write. ‘Anna, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m going out. I’ll be back later.’ I pause with the pen in my hand. I want to write Love, Carson. But I can’t tell her like this. Instead, I sign it, ‘Carson.’
Then, with a heavy heart, I walk out the door. It shuts with an ominous click behind me.
Twenty-Eight
Anna
A crushing weight settles in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. I feel like my heart is breaking. A sob escapes my lips. This can’t be good for the baby.
With tears blurring my vision, I stumble into our bedroom and collapse on the bed. I curl into a fetal position. I pull my knees against my chest. My right hand instinctively lands on my abdomen, a silent connection with the tiny life growing inside me.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion, “I love you, and your Daddy will love you too. I know he will.” A tear slides down my face, “He… he just can’t quite forgive me yet. But little one, I know he’ll love you. I know he will…”
I hug my knees tighter, and as I rock back and forth on the bed, the rhythmic motion is an attempt to soothe the emotions that course through me. Exhaustion eventually claims me. When I open my eyes, they feel gritty. I’m still curled up in the bed, the sheets in a tangle around me.
Pulling in a ragged breath, I sit up on the side of the bed. Then I wearily make my way into the bathroom and splash cold water on my face.
As I dry my face, I glance in the mirror. The reflection that stares back is a stranger, a woman consumed by worry. My tears have washed away any facade, leaving behind the raw vulnerability of my emotions.
I’m an ugly crier; my lids are swollen, and my cheeks are stained red from my hot tears. And I’m not done! I suddenly bring the towel up and drop my face into it. Fresh tears squeeze out of my eyes in a silent torrent. Really? I think cynically, haven’t I shed enough tears already?
The phone rings, shattering the quiet of the room. I frown, completely forgetting where I left it. I rush to the kitchen, scooping it up, as the screen flashes my mother-in-law’s name.
“Bonnie?” I manage, my voice shaky.
“Hi, Anna,” she says cheerfully. “No worries, I just called to see if I could keep Connor overnight. Some friends of mine asked me over for dinner. Their grandson, who’s the same age as Connor, is visiting. I thought it would be nice to bring Connor along. He could spend the night at my house.”
Relief washes over me. “That’s fine, Bonnie,” I manage to get out.
“Great! Maybe you and Carson could come over for lunch tomorrow? Around one?”
“Um... yeah, that might work out,” I hedge. “Carson’s not here right now, but he can call you if that doesn’t work.”
“Alright, Anna. Oh, Connor wants to say hi.” I hear a shuffling sound, and then Connor’s excited voice fills my ear. “Hey, Mom. I’m spending the night with grandma. Can we go out on the boat tomorrow?”
“I’m not sure, honey,” I say, “but if we can, I’ll bring your swimsuit. Okay?”
“Cool. Thanks, Mom!” His voice fades as Bonnie takes the phone back.
The call ends, and I stand there staring down at the phone in my hand, a wave of exhaustion washing over me.
I sink onto the stool at the kitchen counter. Seeing Carson’s note, I pull it toward me and read it. I sigh; the weight of my secret feels heavier than ever. I scold myself. I should have just told Carson about the baby. Instead, I wanted to test the waters first. A way to gauge his openness about having another child. Ridiculous. And it wasn’t fair.
Haven’t I learned that lesson? I should have just started with the truth, plain and simple: ‘Carson, I’m pregnant. The baby is yours. I’m sorry, but we were careless, and the blame falls on both of us. And … and… I love you.’ No, I can’t confess my feelings for him yet.
A surge of anger replaces my self-pity. Here I am, wallowing in my misery while the baby inside me needs me to be strong. This is not the end of the world. I still need to tell him, just… just not today. I think cowardly.
The sudden opening of the front door startles me. Carson stands in the doorway. He has Graham’s bright yellow box in his hands. My stomach muscles tighten. My eyes widen with alarm.
