Page 126 of More Than Words

Things were far from perfect, but I knew this stage was temporary. Weeks ago, we’d been trapped in a hospital with no end in sight, and now we had a healthy, mostly happy baby who was starting to thrive.

Pressing my nose into Finley’s hair, I inhaled, thinking that there was no way my life could feel more complete than it did right now. Well, one more thing would make it perfect.

“Marry me,” I whispered to Isobel, looking over our daughter’s head to where she was sitting on the bed beside us.

“What?” Her eyes widened as she froze, her hand dropping to her side. “No. What are you talking about?”

Well, that wasn’t the answer I was hoping for.

“Adrian…”

“Stop. Just stop,” I urged quietly, reaching over to grasp her hand. “Hear me out.”

“Are you insane?”

“Maybe,” I chuckled, but the shell-shocked expression didn’t move from her face as she put her laptop on her nightstand and pulled her hand out of mine. “But I can’t imagine not spending every day like this. Only with a ring on your finger.”

“Only a ring,” she scoffed as she scooted sideways, standing at the edge of the bed for a moment before she started pacing the length of it. “You don’t want to marry me.”

“I…”

Her brow furrowed, and I watched tears spill from the corners of her eyes, tracking down her cheeks. “I’m a mess. You can’t seriously want this forever. I can barely make it through the day under the weight of all this and you’re just over there in la la land thinking about weddings and rainbows while I’m literally falling apart. Every morning, I wake up and wonder if we made a mistake. If having her was a mistake.” She stared at Finley, and her voice caught as more tears fell. “And then I feel like a monster because I love her so much, but she doesn’t deserve a mom who can’t handle taking care of her.”

“Babe.” Gently placing Finley into the cot next to the bed, I walked to where Isobel was pacing, grasping her shoulders. “I don’t care about any of that. All I know is that I don’t want to look back on my life and regret anything. I don’t want to regret telling you how I feel. I know you lo…”

“Loving you isn’t the problem, Adrian. But I can’t imagine getting married right now. Or maybe ever.”

“I just want you to think about it. We don’t have to do it right now. I need to get the ring from Pops still, and I’ll wait as long as you need me to, but I want you to know how I feel.”

“I can’t...”

She tried to pull away, but I held tight, bending my knees to look in her eyes. “Talk to me. Please.”

“Stop. Just stop. Enough. I don’t want to talk about this right now. I can’t. I…have too much on my plate right now and I can’t manage it all. Please don’t add something else for me to fail at.” This time, when she tried to pull free, I released her, watching as she disappeared into the bathroom and locked the door.

The walls she’d seemed to dismantle over the last year came back up in an instant, fortified with abject terror and fucking postpartum depression. I knew I was pushing her, but I also thought we could work through this phase and come out stronger on the other side.

Clearly, I was mistaken.

ADRIAN

Boston

Isobel had withdrawn into herself even more after I’d proposed. And my heart was breaking watching her fall apart. She’d come out of the bathroom afterward, avoiding talking to me by funneling all of her focus into catching up on work. I didn’t want to pressure her, but knowing she thought she was a failure as a mother or that she’d fail at being my wife was gut wrenching.

When Monday rolled around, I’d left her apartment, returning home to swap out my clothes and head to work for a few hours. Every day that week when I came home, she was in the same place. Finley would be propped on her chest, and Isobel would be wearing the same pajamas she’d put on the night before after I’d made her take a shower. It was like she was making it her mission in life to torture herself by only focusing on work or the baby.

For someone who was so committed to making sure happy endings came to life, she was insistent on avoiding her own.

When Thursday morning rolled around, I had a meeting I couldn’t skip at ten, so I was packing my things to drive downtown. Isobel was going to try to come into the office to meet with Sloane at three this afternoon while Finley spent a few hours at the daycare as a trial run.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take her?” I offered, gazing at where Finley sat in her bouncy chair in the middle of the living room. She’d been a little out of sorts and congested the last few days as the rainy weather of spring transitioned into summer. She hadn’t had a bad night, but she was sleepier than usual.

Isobel still hadn’t taken the time to get in the shower, making sure Finley was having a good morning, while neglecting herself. Again.

“It’ll be fine,” she reassured, but the shadows underneath her eyes concerned me. She wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace without sleep, and I often wondered if maybe I needed to cut back on my hours to help more. She would never let me, but I still wanted to.

“I have about fifteen minutes until I have to leave if you want to go shower.”

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