Page 38 of Bound Hearts

“Are you not staying?”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to quickly head out then come right back,” he promises.

I climb into bed beside him, feeling as if I’ve trudged through the trenches. I burrow under the duvet, curling into him as he adjusts the blanket. Another lone tear escapes. I keep spinning in circles.

“I can’t keep doing this to myself. At some point, avoidance needs to end, and now that you know, then I’ve reached that moment. The morning,” I say blankly.

“In the morning what?” He strokes my hair as my ear rests against his chest.

“I’ll make a decision. I can’t mentally cope if I prolong it.”

Foster squeezes me tighter. “Okay.”

My eyelids grow heavy, safety finally settling over me.

Sleep finds me at last.

Waking a few times early in the morning before sunrise, I wrestled with the blanket as I tossed and turned. Foster was there, but I managed not to wake him. All considerations came to me on repeat. Both choices will take a physical and mental toll. And both choices will live with me for my entire life.

It began to become clearer to me.

Now, I’m awake, and Foster left an empty spot in bed, but I hear him down the hall in the kitchen. My place isn’t as big as his by a long shot, it’s easy to make noise.

I sit up and exhale three times, feeling a little steadier with each breath.

I swing my feet out of bed and start the walk toward the biggest decision of my life.

Through the living room window, I see that the early spring sun is still low off in the distance, as it’s only 7am. Foster stands behind the small kitchen island with a mug of coffee at his lips, and his white work shirt from yesterday has the sleeves rolled and the collar loose. His eyes shoot up when he notices me, and he slowly sets the mug down.

“You’re up early,” I say.

“Yeah, figured I would get a few emails in.”

I quirk my lips out during the long stretch of quiet as he attempts to inspect my mood and thoughts.

No point delaying it or leaving him to wonder.

“I’m keeping the baby.”

There. It’s done. My choice has been made, and I’m comfortable with it.

A smirk begins to form on his mouth as he saunters to me, clearly relieved. “I was hoping you would say that,” he finally admits.

A swoosh finds me that instantly brings relief.

“We’re doing this then?” I double-check, my tone measured.

He nods. “We are.”

I step into the invitation of his open arms and a hug.

When his arms wrap around me, I take a long breath, and it hits me.

I’m going to be a mom. A baby. Him and me.

Foster steps back and holds his finger up in the air, signaling for me not to move. He walks to his blazer hanging on the back of a stool and digs into a pocket. Removing his hand, he holds onto a black box.

“I believe this is yours.” He smirks softly as he holds up a ring box.