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Once I’m out of his office and back in my own, I let out a huge sigh. How am I supposed to fix this if he won’t even talk to me?
Maria would be best equipped to cool her father down. But it’s obvious he’s not in a forgiving mood, and I don’t think she’d be able to handle him yelling at her again.
I know she’ll want this all smoothed over before the baby arrives. She loves her family, and I know she’ll want our child to experience that kind of love too.
For the rest of the workday, I stay in my office, immersed in the case. Maybe it’s not today, but I’ll have to talk to Tom again sooner rather than later.
On my way home, I make a trip to a flower shop to pick up a bouquet. I ask the florist—a middle-aged woman who appears to have embraced her inevitable grays—what type of flowers to give someone to cheer them up.
She makes me a beautiful arrangement of yellow roses and yellow and white daises, places them in a clear vase, and finishes off the gift with a dainty white bow.
Thanking the florist, I’m buzzing with excitement. I can’t wait to present the bouquet to Maria.
Getting home is like an instant balm to soothe the unpleasantness of the day. I set the flowers on the side table by the entrance before making my way into the living room. Maria is curled up on the couch, her book of lesson plans clutched in her hand. I feel better instantly.
“I got you something,” I tell Maria with a smile as I collapse onto the couch next to her to give her a kiss, excited for her to receive the flowers.
“Did you now?” she asks with a raised brow. It’s so nice to see her not completely down in the dumps.
“I did.” I jump back up from the couch so I can grab the vase.
Walking back into the living room, I keep my eyes focused on her, enamored as I watch the expression on her face change from inquisitive to elated.
She inspects them, as if they’re the most precious flowers in the world. But then her reaction shifts. While I wanted to see a beaming smile on her face, instead I watch as tears pour down her cheeks, a strangled sob leaving her mouth.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” I ask as I take the vase from her shaky hands, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down next to her and pulling her into my arms.
“They’re just so . . . beautiful,” she chokes out, leaning into my side.
“Making you cry is the last thing I was hoping to do to you,” I tell her softly, holding her head against my chest as I stroke her hair.
“I know. I don’t know why I’m crying. It’s probably just the hormones,” she answers, working through her tears to try and get the words out.
But I know with the time we’ve been having, it isn’t all about the hormones. This is probably a mix of happy tears, hormonal tears, and sad tears about her currently fractured family relationships.
“We can talk about anything on your mind,” I offer, probing her to share her feelings with me.
She doesn’t say anything for a while, and I wait as her tears slowly subside into small sniffles. I don’t urge her anymore to speak, giving her the time she needs to decide if she’d like to talk about what’s on her mind.
Finally, her voice comes out, barely above a whisper, sharing words that almost make my heart stop.
“I just . . . are we meant to be doing this? It’s only causing trouble,” Maria says sadly, slowly lifting her watery eyes away from my chest, so she can look at me.
The words sting. I’m not liking even the slightest implication that anything should be different from the way it is right now.
“Is that what you really think? That the baby is trouble? I could list a thousand beautiful and exciting things that are in our future,” I point out, my words coming out tense.
“That’s . . . I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, sounding like she could start crying again any minute.
I take a deep breath, not wanting to get into any sort of argument. We are already going through so much.
“I know. And I can’t promise you that there won’t ever be trouble. More likely than not, there’ll be bumps in the road. But at the end of the day, I love you, Maria, and I want to be with you and raise our child together.” I let my feelings guide my words.
“Oh, Tyler,” she begins, watery eyes deeply gazing into mine, “I love you, too.”
Cue the tears.
This time, however, her tears fall while she has a wide smile on her face. It’s as if the sun just came out, making me all warm and content.
