Page 37 of Broken Vows

“We both messed up,” I say softly. “But this is different. This is our baby.”

He nods, then reaches for my sketchbook. “Tell me about these other designs. The coffee shop one caught my eye.”

I let him change the subject, explaining my ideas for local businesses, for children’s books, for anything that comes to mind. He asks questions, makes suggestions, remembers details about my old projects that I’d forgotten.

The sun sets as we talk, casting long shadows across the floor. Empty takeout containers litter the space between us, and my hand cramps from gesturing as I explain concepts.

“I should clean this up,” I say finally, looking at the mess around us.

“Here.” He gathers containers while I stack papers. As I reach for a fallen pencil, my shoulder brushes his arm. The contact sends warmth through me, familiar and new all at once.

“Thanks for dinner,” I say, trying to sound normal. “And for listening to me ramble about art stuff.”

“I enjoy hearing you excited about things again.” His voice is soft in the dimness. “Missed that.”

Before I can respond, a wave of nausea hits–apparently the baby isn’t as fond of garlic as I am. I must make some sort of face because Jeremy immediately stands.

“Water?” he asks, already heading for the door.

“Please.”

When he returns with a glass and some crackers, I’ve moved to sit against the wall, head between my knees.

“Morning sickness is such a lie,” I groan. “More like all-day sickness.”

He sits beside me, close enough that I can lean against him if I want to. “Want me to stay until it passes?”

I want him to stay, but not just until the nausea passes. I want him to stay, period.

“I’m okay,” I say instead.

“Okay, I’m going to head downstairs and get ready for bed.” He says and kisses my forehead and leaves the room.

Or just stay here with me.

Why can’t I just say the words?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Morning light streamsthrough my office window as I sit at my desk, looking at the computer. Portfolio website mock-ups spread across the surface. After last night’s talk with Jeremy about getting back into freelancing, I woke up with renewed energy, determined to take actual steps forward.

I’m tapping my pencil against a sketch of potential logos when my phone buzzes. Lilly.

Lilly

Have you thought more about painting the nursery? I’m free today

Jeremy and I hadn’t really discussed when we’d start the transformation, though we’d looked at paint samples. Everything between us feels delicate right now, like we’re building something fragile and new from the fragments of what broke.

Me

Not yet. Still working on some design stuff today.

Her response comes quickly:

Lilly

You can’t avoid it forever. Babies come whether the room is ready or not.

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