Page 117 of Resisting the Running Back

I tell myself maybe he just hopped in the shower or something after he clicked send. I can tell myself all I want, though. It doesn’t mean I believe a second of it.

I hate being this whiny girl obsessing over her man, so I decide to text Cassie.

Me:You around tonight?

Cassie:I’ve got baseball practice with Luca. You’re more than welcome to come hang out with Lily and me.

Yeah, no thanks.

I try Grace next.

Me:Are you around tonight? Want to grab dinner?

Grace:I’m not! Sorry! I flew up to Minnesota for a few days. Next week?

I reply with some vague response, and I sigh as I let that sting of loneliness wash over me.

Is this the kind of life I want? Chasing after Miller, who can’t be bothered to communicate more than a few words at a time. Raising a baby largely on my own as I wait for him to come home.

No. It’s not the life I want. It’s not the life I dreamed of.

I miss the Miller who was my book boyfriend. I miss the guy who performed acts of service without me ever having to ask him because he just knew how to speak my love language.

And so I take that loneliness, open my laptop, and channel all my feelings into my characters.

I find myself with great intentions to work, and instead, I’m navigating away from my document and opening a browser.

I searchtwo weeks pregnantto see what comes up.

I start to study and learn. I start to feed the part of myself that feels clueless. I start to feel even more overwhelmed, butbeing equipped with knowledge is one small way to try to combat that overwhelm.

I spend the day doing none of the tasks on myto-do listand instead try to learn everything I can about the first few weeks of pregnancy.

I realize I have graphics to make, posts to schedule, and ads to run. But all of that seems to take a backseat to the fact that I’m going to be a mother in thirty-eight weeks or less.

The very thought of that causes the panic to rise once again in the back of my throat like bile. The urge to talk to Miller overwhelms me, and I think it’s because I need to hear his voice to make me feel like we’re going to be okay.

And so I try calling him again after dinner.

“Hey!” he answers. He sounds…jovial?

“Hey. I miss you.”

“Same. It’s been a wild forty-eight hours, but Coach just gave us an hour to bond with our teammates.”

I hear laughter in the background, and a male voice mocks Miller. “Yeah, we’re bonding all right.”

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Bonding.” His answer is short.

“What does that mean?”

I hear a group of people cheering.

“I should go,” he says. “I’ll call you back in a bit, okay?”

He ends the call, and I fling my phone onto the table. I just wanted to hear his voice to help myself feel a little better, and instead, hearing it just made me feel worse.

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