Page 97 of Before I Loved You

Knowing her, it probably made her feel worse that she couldn’t put these pieces together herself.

Sitting on her couch, I take in everything as the realization, for the first time, comes crashing down on me.

I was so consumed with the notion that she never told me about being pregnant that I didn’t stop to think about what that actually meant…

I’m going to be a dad.

A swoosh of air exits my lungs as I lean back and process that sentence.

I’m. Going. To. Be. A. Dad.

The thudding of my heart echoes in my ears. My hand rests against my chest, where my heart pounds erratically.

But suddenly, a smile takes over my face.

A genuine goddamn smile.

“I’m going to be a dad,” I whisper. The reality of the situation should alarm me. It should leave me an anxious, riddled mess. But all I feel is an overwhelming sweeping sensation of happiness from my toes to the top of my head.

Tilting my head up toward the ceiling, I close my eyes and speak words from my heart that I wish I could say to the man who made me who I am today: my dad. “I’m going to do my best to be just like you. To be the best dad, husband, and man. I will make you proud, Dad. I promise.”

While wiping away the few tears that managed to escape, I spot the ugly gremlin on the side of the couch beside me, Teddy. Picking it up, I look it over carefully. The poor guy could use some love. Examining it in my hands, I come to the conclusion that throwing him in the wash is out of the question for fear that it might disintegrate. No, I’ll leave this to the professionals.

My eyes wander around the apartment as I question what else, besides the baby furniture, Sarah needs help with but hasn’t told me.

Getting up from the sofa, I walk into the kitchen, noting the bareness of the counters and shelves. Worry fills me as I open the fridge, finding it practically empty.

“The way to anyone’s heart is through food.”

My girl and my baby will never know hunger again.

I pull up my notes app on my phone and add “Groceries” as the first item on the to-do list, followed by “Assemble Nursery,” “Take Teddy to the dry cleaners,” and “Order books on how to take care of a baby.”

While tucking my phone in my pocket, my eyes spot a pile of envelopes on the kitchen island, and I immediately gravitate toward it. I know I shouldn’t open Sarah’s mail. It’s illegal and an invasion of her privacy, but the second I recognize the name of a nearby hospital as the return address, my stomach recoils, knowing what it is.

A bill.

Fuck it. I’m opening it.

Swiftly, I pull out the paper and scan the contents, observing the amount due at the bottom and knowing Sarah doesn’t have that kind of money. Repeating my actions, I open the next envelope in my hands, knowing that, once again, it’s another bill. Except this one is her past-due credit card statement. As my eyes scan over the credit card purchases of baby furniture and necessities, I sink to the counter stool beside me with the same question I’ve asked myself a hundred times, overpowering my thoughts.

Why didn’t she tell me?

She knows I have money.

And knowing she’s just scraping by, trying to afford everything for a baby…our baby, causes my heart to tighten painfully.

I rub at my chest, a significant ache filling me, knowing that she’s been going through all of this alone.

Dropping the bill, I rest my elbows on the counter and hold the sides of my head, my fingers digging into my scalp. None of this makes any sense. But the fear that there might be a legitimate reason why she didn’t tell me courses through me.

Without needing to think about it, I place all the bills on the counter, laying them out flat, while I reach for my phone and wallet. Within minutes, I have them all paid off, making me feel slightly better that she won’t have to worry about these anymore.

She may be mad at me for doing this, but it doesn’t bother me.

Because she’ll soon learn what it means to be taken care of by me.

twenty-three

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