Page 115 of Better Daddy
“That’s not—” He shakes his head. “That’s not good enough.”
I nod as tears crest my lashes again. He’s right. This was too close. And it’s my own damn fault. My own stubbornness is to blame.
“Mr. Murphy, as I was telling your wife, your baby is doing okay. As is she. For right now. But that was too close.”
Sully straightens at the doctor’s words and looks up at her like he’s only now realizing that we aren’t alone. Maybe he is. Maybe, when he got here, all he saw was me.
That sets off another fresh set of tears.
“For the moment, you and the baby are healthy enough for the pregnancy to continue. But only if you’re on bed rest. Between the protein in your urine and the low level of amniotic fluid, an event like today could easily lead to an emergency C-section.”
I shake my head. “I’ll be good.”
“We’ll do whatever is necessary,” Sully tells her.
The doctor gives us a detailed list of what she wants us to do. Mainly, I need to rest. Work is out of the question, but honestly that’s the last thing I want to do.
After she’s gone, my nerves take over and dread washes through me. Sully has every reason to be angry with me. I could have lost our child, all because of my stubborn pride.
A full minute after she’s gone, he’s still staring at the door, like he can’t bear to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, the pain of this moment making it hard to breathe.
Seated beside me on the hospital bed, he spins, a severe frown pulling his eyebrows together. “What are you sorry for?”
I grip my stomach with both hands, unable to meet his gaze. “I could have lost her. It would have been all my fault.”
“We could have lostyou,” Sully says, sounding tortured. “I could have lost you, and it would have been allmyfault.”
My heart stumbles.What?
“Sweetheart.” Tone softening, he searches my face like he’s trying to find the words to explain what’s going on in his mind. “I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down again and again. I should have been with you. I should have—” He shakes his head. “No more. We’re not doing this anymore. We’re moving back to New York. You need rest. Quiet. You need a fucking regular bathroom and your bed.”
I roll my eyes. “Sloane’s is fine. And our bed in Jersey isn’t that bad.”
His jaw ticks and those blue eyes go stormy. “We’re not going back to Jersey. Ever. You were right. I picked the firm again and again. Over you. Over the love of my life.” He pulls at his hair and lets out a frustrated grunt. “I can’t believe you stayed as long as you did. That you put up with it all.”
“Sully.”
“I told the others this morning. Fuck the trust. Fuck the firm. You’re all that matters.”
I reach for my husband’s hand, desperate to assure him, to calm him down. This is obviously the adrenaline talking. The fear. “Sully, I’m fine. You don’t have to throw your whole life away. You heard the doctor; I’m going to be okay.”
Sully straightens, looking affronted. “I’m not doing it because of this. I’m doing it because I choose you over everything. It might havetaken me fucking forever to realize that I was taking you for granted, but you and our children are all that matter.”
Shocked, I open my mouth, but only a choked sound comes out.
For so many months, T.J. and his cousin have spent every waking moment together. They’ve become best friends. And I’ve loved all the time I’ve spent with Lo and the guys. The Ping-Pong tournaments and games of pool after dinner. The bedtime stories. The ridiculous Christmas tree. The bathroom that morphed from my worst nightmare into my sanctuary. Karaoke nights and laughter.
All of it has changed my life for the better. And during our time there, I fell in love with my husband again.
If we move back to the city, then that’s all gone. The firm. This special time. On top of all of that, if we move back, then every one of the people who has been by my side, supported me, helped me survive not only our separation but our reconciliation, will lose everything. I can’t be the reason they lose their livelihoods.
With a heavy breath, I squeeze my husband’s hand. “I choose you too.”
Eyes wide, he opens his mouth, but before he can respond, I go on. I’m not done yet.
“You and our children and our family mean everything to me. Maybe I needed to hear you say that you would pick me, and I appreciate it more than I can express right now, but I don’t want to lose the firm.” As soon as the words are out, an assuredness washes over me, reinforcing my belief. “It’s our family firm.”
