Page 66 of Closing the Distance

This time when I meet my reflection, all I see is acceptance, resolve, and strength. It’s not the peaceful kind of strength I felt before—it’s the strength that’s born from necessity. My eyes are dry, my face less red and splotchy. My mouth is still turned down at the corners, but I don’t have the energy to fake a smile.

I can do hard things. I will survive this like I have survived every day before this. Like I will survive tomorrow, and the day after. I have me and her, and that’s enough.

Once I’m sure I won’t crack, that my armor is secure, I exit the bathroom. Ty’s sitting on the side of the bed, his head down, but at the sound of the door opening, his gaze finds mine as his body becomes alert. His hands rest between his legs as he sits there, clearly waiting for me, and he’s so handsome, even with his brow furrowed in concern and those bags under his eyes. It’s not fair. Hasn’t life punished me enough? Now I have to raise a daughter with the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, knowing he can never love me.

My confidence wavers ever so slightly, but I take a breath and hold firm. Ty stands up and pulls back the covers. I crawl in, and when he rounds the bed and gets in on the other side, I turn away from him. I’m strong, but not strong enough to look him in the eyes without him seeing how completely broken I am.

His arm wraps around my waist, hauling me back into his body, and a traitorous tear escapes.

“Lexi,” he breathes against my neck.

Exhaustion overwhelms me hard, the softness of the pillow, the warmth of the comforter, the strength and comfort of his arms all working to lull me into the sleep I didn’t get last night, but I have to get this out first. He deserves to know that I understand.

“It’s okay, Ty. I won’t ever push you out of the baby’s life,” I mumble, my eyelids growing heavy. “I’m glad she’ll always have you.”

“So will you,” he says, and I swear I can feel his heart racing through my back, but it could be my imagination as sleep pulls me further down.

“Because of the baby.”

THIRTY-EIGHT

I don’t like the way she’s talking. She can’t possibly think I’m only here because of the baby.

Can she?

My arm tightens around her waist, my heart racing in my chest. “No, because I love you.”

She yawns, and her voice is whisper soft when she speaks, her eyes closed. “You don’t need to lie anymore. I understand.”

Her voice starts to fade, but panic claws at me. “Understand what?” I can barely ask, but I have to know what the fuck she’s talking about.

“That I’m not lovable.”

My heart stops as her breath evens out, and she falls into a much-needed sleep. But fear and hurt grip me so painfully tight I can barely breathe. She thinks she’s unlovable?

I knew I messed up, but this is worse than I could’ve ever imagined.

How can she think that? It’s not just that she doesn’t believe Ilove her—which is bad enough. She doesn’t believe she’s worth loving at all.

I’m not lovable.

The sentence taunts me as she sleeps deeply next to me, and I hold her tight like if I let her go for a second, I might lose her forever.

That’s not an option. And I’ll do whatever I need to do to prove her wrong.

Proving her wrong is much easier said than done. Over the next few weeks, a change comes over her, and if I thought she had her guard up when we first got together, it’s nothing compared to the woman who looks at me every day, her smiles never reaching her eyes and a slightly distant look in them whenever I catch her alone.

Her hand never leaves her belly though. She’s always rubbing it in some way, murmuring softly to herself which I suspect is more for our daughter than her.

It gets worse when I realize she’s buying her own groceries and not eating any of the ones I’ve bought. The more I watch her, the more aware I am that she’sonly using the things she’s purchased with her own money. The only thing she accepts from me is the roof over her head and our bed to sleep in each night.

It chips away at my sanity, slowly but surely, because I’m losing her more with every day that passes even though she’s standing right in front of me.

She won’t even kiss me anymore.

Knowing what she thinks about herself—that she’s unlovable—is both a gift and a curse. At least I know what I’m fighting against, but how do you fight a demon that lives inside your loved one’s head? How do you fight something that doesn’t take physical form but has been reinforced in small, painful ways over and over again her entire life?

Thinking you’re unlovable doesn’t come from one heartache. It comes from being shown repeatedly that you’re not enough. That you’re not worthy of love. That no one can love you.

---