Page 39 of Broken Vows

The nurse prints out ultrasound photos - our tiny baby, growing stronger each day. “The doctor will be in shortly to discuss your blood pressure. Try to rest until then.”

Jeremy tucks the photos into his wallet, next to the one from our first appointment. “Remember when we could barely see anything? Now look - actual baby shape.”

“I still say it looks like a blob.” But warmth spreads through my chest at his excitement.

“A very cute blob.” His thumb traces the edge of my palm. “Our blob.”

The doctor knocks and enters, chart in hand. “So, Mrs. Kline.”

“Ms,” I correct automatically. The title still feels strange.

“My apologies. Ms. Kline, your blood pressure’s running low. Not dangerously so, but combined with the dizzy spells, I’d like you to take it easier. More rest, regular meals, plenty of fluids.”

“I can make sure of that,”

“Good. No heavy lifting, no painting.” she glances at my paint-speckled fingers— “and try to keep stress minimal. I want to see you back in a week to check your levels.”

Back home, Jeremy insists on making lunch while I rest on the couch. “Grilled cheese?” His head pops around the corner. “With the fancy cheese your mom used to buy?”

“You remember that?”

“Course I do. You used to beg her to get it every shopping trip.”

The sandwich arrives perfectly golden, cheese melting just right. We eat in comfortable silence, the afternoon sun warming the living room.

“About the nursery,” he says after a while. “Maybe we could hire someone? Save you from the fumes and stuff.”

“We can’t afford?—”

“I got that bonus from work. The one for the big project last month? Let me do this.”

The way he says it - not offering to help, but asking to be part of it - shifts something in my chest.

“Okay,” I say. “But I get to pick the colors.”

“As long as it’s not that awful orange Lilly suggested.”

We laugh, and it feels good. Natural. Like maybe we’re finding our way back to something real, something honest.

That night, as Jeremy settles onto the couch with his pillow, I pause at the bottom of the stairs.

“Thank you,” I say. “For today. For everything.”

His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “Get some rest, Lex. Doctor’s orders.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The hunger pangswake me from an uneasy sleep, my body still adjusting to this new routine of being alone in our bed. The digital clock on my nightstand blinks 3:02 AM – about an hour before Jeremy's alarm would go off for his early shift at the power company. Even now, months into our separation, my internal clock refuses to forget.

I throw off the suffocating blankets, my skin damp with sweat. The house creaks with familiar sounds as I pad toward the kitchen.

The kitchen feels different at this hour - somehow both smaller and more vast without Jeremy's presence filling the spaces between counters and cabinets. I grab an apple from the fruit bowl, its skin cool and smooth against my palm, and reach for a glass of water. That's when I hear it - a voice so quiet I almost mistake it for the house settling.

“I can't talk right now, she's just in the other room.”

Jeremy's voice, but different somehow. Softer. More intimate than I've heard him speak in months. My hand freezes midair, the glass forgotten as I strain to hear more. I press myself against the wall beside the living room archway, my heart thundering so loud I worry it might give me away.

“I want to touch you, too. I will be there this weekend.”

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