Page 55 of Wall

As I sit here and read, my gut’s churning, but that’s probably because I forgot my packed lunch and got a tray from food service. I trust John. He does everything he can to reassure me. There’s no lock on his phone, and he’s always handing it to me to look up something when we’re driving somewhere. Like he doesn’t know where the turn off to Lake Patonquin is.

He tells me where he’s going to be, and who’s going to be there. I’ve never heard of such a crazy cast of characters—Forty, Plum, Boots, Big George, whose real name is Clark, and a guy name Bullet who has a little girl called Squick. Poor thing.

He loves these people, though. And they seem to think the world of him. So, I like them, too.

It’s strange. It’s almost like I’ve split John into three people in my mind. There’s the man I met when I was sixteen. Then, there’s the man who cheated on me. I still don’t understand that person at all. And then there’s this guy. This guy’s still playful, but he’s serious, too. Even though he’s built like the Hulk, he seems wary. Like he’s always on defense, bracing himself.

He’s not the same man I married. He’s…weathered. Cautious with me. Grim, sometimes. And in bed, he’sstarving. He doesn’t stop until I’m a wrung out, boneless mass, and he scoops me into his strong arms, and he strokes my back and kisses me until I fall asleep.

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, and he’s still cradling me, rubbing circles at the base of my spine—which always aches after work—watching sports on mute.

I feel like we’ve been through the war together, and like I still don’t know him at all.

And I’m totally lying to myself. My stomach is queasy as hell. I don’t like that he’s at a party without me at an MC clubhouse. And I hate, hate, hate that I’m worried.

And I am scaredshitlessabout the pregnancy.

If I posted on one of those internet advice boards—having unprotected sex with my ex who cheated on me, and I’m pregnant—I’d be roasted. If I told anyone, they’d judge me, and they’d be right. What business do I have bringing a new life into such a messy situation?

I thought I was old enough; I’d made all my dumb mistakes already. Nope.

I kept thinking that I’d call the doctor. Or go down that aisle of the grocery store. But I didn’t. And as soon as John comes home—and no matter what he’s got planned for his day, he comes to me as soon as he’s done—he wraps his arms around me, inhales as if I’m apple pie straight out of the oven, and then he’s eating me up, and I lose my mind.

I’ve missed him. To thebone. And it kills me to wonder if I had to miss him this long.

But what if I’d tried to work through it with John? Would I have discovered the other things? When I’m only taking courses in nursing, not English and history, I’m good at school. I love elder care. I don’t need someone to be behind me to make something of myself.

Although Iamgrateful for my cheerleaders. Speaking of, Miss Janice is wide awake and starting to root around in her bag of whatnots. I think she’s had enough of the good book.

I slip in a postcard to mark our place. “Save the rest for another night?”

“All right. Have you seen my cheaters?”

I reach out and pluck them from her head. “These cheaters?”

“Am I that predictable?”

“Sure are.”

“Do you have to get going?”

“Nope.” I’m not looking forward to sitting at home, waiting for John to come back from a party. Too much déjà vu. Maybe I should text him and suggest he crash at the clubhouse. But can my nerves take that? My stomach gurgles.

“Are you hungry? I have some peanut chews.”

Oh. Gross. No. I swallow hard. “No, thanks. I’ll grab a snack when I get home.”

“Your man going to be waiting up?” Miss Janice’s eyes twinkle.

“How did you know I had a man?”

“Nurse gossip. He dropped you off on his motorcycle the other day. Francine said she hoped you knew what to do with all that man.”

I bust out laughing. Francine is Miss Janice’s pinochle friend on the night shift. “You can assure Francine that I do.”

“Where’d you meet him? Heck, when did you have the time?”

I glance down at my lap. I’m a private person, but I’m not comfortable telling a bold-faced lie.

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