Page 98 of Finding Our Reality

I am screwed. Completely and totally fucked.

Why did I let Ry stay in this room? Why, oh why, oh why?

“Number of children?”

My heart thunders in my chest. “Zero.”

“Number of pregnancies?”

My body breaks out in a cold sweat knowing the answer I’m about to give. “One.”

Ry’s head snaps up in my direction, faster than a bolt of lightning.

In a split second, tension floods the room. All the oxygen is sucked out of the area, leaving me panting and gasping for air.

Dorothy notices something is off. She asks the next question slowly, as if saying the sentence one syllable at a time will magically diffuse the situation. “Number of live births?”

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Tears spring to my eyes. I bite my lip, trying to keep my untamed reaction buried. Ry’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open. He thinks I had a child with Hudson. He thinks I lied to him, omitted a major fact.

I did lie to him. I omitted a major fact. But he gave me no other choice.

Lifting my face and squaring my shoulders, I firmly answer the question. “One. A daughter. I had an umbilical cord prolapse. She died six hours after her birth.”

“Oh hon, I’m so very sorry you went through that.” Dorothy reaches out and wraps her fingers around mine. “How long ago was it?”

My eyes bore into Ry, drilling a hole directly into his soul. “Eleven years and seven months ago. I was thirty-four weeks pregnant when it happened.”

He stumbles backward, reaching out and gripping the doorframe for support. His eyes dart around the room, mentally counting our time together and our time apart, trying to determine if his first thought was wrong. But he knows he’s right. He knows it’s him. He knows that he’s the father.

After all these years, he knows I was pregnant with his child when he left me. When he turned his back and walked away, I was carrying his baby.

He finally knows.

He coughs, drowning in his own emotions. He grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks on it, like it’s a vise, choking the life from him.

His episode is so disturbing and traumatic to watch, Dorothy stands up. “Officer? Are you okay?”

Spinning on his heels, Ry slams his fist so hard into the wall that a framed picture of the digestive tract falls to the ground and shatters into a million pieces. His bellowed moan is dragged directly from the pits of hell, filled with so much sorrow and pain, I don’t know if he’ll ever be okay. His voice is so broken, I can barely make out the words. “I need some air.”

He walks out the door, leaving me crying on the hospital bed.

Chapter 32

CRUTCH

No wonder she hated me.

I abandoned her and our unborn child. The child who died before I even knew she existed. For six hours, I was a father.

A father.

I was Dad. To a daughter. A little baby girl.

And she was a mother.

And My Lulu had to do it all without me. No wonder she was so devastated when she thought Laura was my child.

I can’t believe this is my life. I can’t believe this is happening to me.To us.

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