“What’s there to say?” I ask. I recall him sitting in Scarlet’s living room holding her new baby. It seems like a lifetime ago.
“Whatever’s on your mind,” he encourages. “I can take it.”
How is it fair that the greatest, most formidable love of my life is the one that’s wholly inappropriate for me? That’s my biggest question at the moment, but I don’t dare say it out loud.
“Are you still in Vegas?”
“Yes.”
It’s quiet in the background, though, so he must be somewhere private.
“Please tell me what’s on your mind,” he says.
I draw a breath, knowing whatever’s about to come out won’t be pretty. “I’m not sure what there is to say. You freaked out after that whole absurd baby conversation we had and went out for a drunken bender with your friends. It doesn’t exactly inspire confidence about your maturity.”
It’s me sayingSee, I was right, without actually saying it.
“You want to know why I freaked out?”
“I already know. I just told you.”
He releases a long, slow exhale. “I freaked out because I saw that paperwork you had.”
“What paperwork?”
“Isaw, Alessia. That night at my parents’ house when I took your bag. You left it in the foyer.”
My mind races to comprehend. “What are you talking about?”
“The adoption paperwork you’d tried to keep hidden from me.” I can feel his pain and disappointment through the line. In New York, the foyer of his parents’ home ... I did have a packet from the adoption agency. But he’s not done. “You never gave us a chance. You never saw me as someone you could actually end up with.”
He’s right.
“That adoption application was you taking matters into your own hands. Planning your life. By yourself.”
I’m quiet, too quiet, because there’s really nothing for me to say. After ending things with Sean, I never wanted to be in the position of nagging someone ever again.
“Alessia?”
“Are you against adopting?”
“What? No.” His tone is laced with frustration, outrage.
I’ve been going through the most stressful period of my life, and when I remember that drunken/high phone call from him yesterday morning, I get angry all over again. He has no idea the immense pressure I’m under. He’s out partying with his friends, and now he’s trying to make me feel bad for planning my future alone. But what didhe expect? He’s obviously not ready for the life and responsibility that come with having a child.
A flash of anxiety crackles inside my chest. Things were already rocky between Hart and me. They have been ever since Aspen. But somehow I know this is the final straw. There is no coming back from this.
“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
His breath catches. “So that’s it then?”
“I guess so.”
“What are you so afraid of, Alessia?”
Everything.But I don’t know how to answer that question, so I don’t.
“Goodbye, Hart.”