Page 55 of The Wrong One

“I love it, but we’re sticking with gender neutral for now,” Emmy said.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to find out what the baby is.” I sighed. “Who does that?”

“Me and Luke.” She laughed. “We want the old-fashioned surprise at the end of what I expect is going to be a very long, uncomfortable journey.”

The store was a haven of pastel colors and soft fabrics. Everywhere I looked, there were tiny onesies, itty-bitty socks, and tiny hats, each one more adorable than the last. My heart fluttered with delight as I imagined Emmy’s baby wearing the tiny little clothes, filling them with giggles and cuddles. I never had babyitis before, but the store was giving me a pretty solid case of it.

Together, we strolled through the aisles, our fingers gently grazing over the rows of clothes. I loved the super-soft fabrics. Emmy’s eyes sparkled with happiness. I noticed her occasionally touching the little baby bump she was sporting now. She radiated a glow that made her even more beautiful, if that were possible.

“Look at this one,” Emmy said.

“Get it,” I gushed. “It’s perfect.”

“I’m so glad my baby daddy is rich.” She giggled. “He told me to buy everything I wanted. I hope he understands just what that means.”

I couldn’t help but be a little jealous. She had the man, the house, and the baby. She had it all. Emmy had the life I thought I was going to have with Patrick. I didn’t lament the loss of Patrick. Hell, I was glad he was gone, but I did feel a little sadness at the loss of the dream. I cared about Cam, but I wasn’t sure we were ever going to be blowing thousands of dollars in a baby store together. We weren’t even officially a couple.

Emmy and I picked out tiny onesies in vibrant colors, imagining the baby’s laughter echoing through the room as he or she wore them. We carefully chose pajamas that were super soft and cozy. Emmy’s excitement was contagious, and I couldn’t help but feel like a part of this beautiful journey. I was going to have to live vicariously through her for a while. Maybe forever. I was going to be an honorary aunt of sorts.

“Look at these!” Emmy picked up a tiny pair of socks adorned with little animals, her fingers tracing the intricate designs. We both laughed at the thought of little toes wiggling inside them, and I could almost hear the happy squeals of the baby-to-be.

“You have to get those,” I declared.

She laughed. “You keep saying that about everything!”

“Because it’s all so precious.” I laughed. “You’re going to have to change the baby’s outfit at least five times a day, so it may as well be cute stuff.”

“I’m glad we have a big-ass house,” Emmy said. “The baby is going to need three rooms to accommodate all of this stuff. Luke has been a shopping fool as well.”

“That’s so cute.” I smiled. “Good for him. I’m glad you guys are both really happy.”

While we were checking out, I checked my phone. There was a text from Cam, which made me smile. Unfortunately, there was another text from Patrick. The guy was really getting obnoxious. That or I just didn’t give a shit anymore.

“Patrick again?” Emmy asked.

“Yes,” I muttered. “I’m done. No more.”

I blocked his number. It felt triumphant, like I’d just slayed a dragon. I should have done it before. I was prolonging my own torture. I didn’t need him. He was my past and I was done giving him real estate in my head.

“Good girl.” Emmy smiled. “Kick that man all the way to the curb.”

I laughed as we carried the many bags to her car. “I can’t believe how good that felt. Why didn’t I do that earlier?”

“I imagine it might have a little something to do with having a good man waiting for you,” she said. “A man who seems to be treating you very right.”

I smiled thinking about Cam. “You’re right.”

We parted ways after a busy shopping afternoon. I had splurged on a few things for myself and was looking forward to getting home and unpacking my goodies. I stepped through the door of my apartment, arms laden with shopping bags. As I set them down and took in the sight of my quiet, peaceful home, a wave of contentment washed over me. The air was infused with a sense of solitude, but instead of feeling lonely, I found myself reveling in the beauty of living alone. It wasn’t like before. I didn’t dread coming home to the emptiness. I felt like I had finally found my footing.

I admired the items I had bought with the intention of making my home just a little prettier. Everything I bought was a reflection of my own tastes and desires. I didn’t have to worry about whether Patrick would think it was kitschy. I didn’t have to worry whether he didn’t like the scent of the candles I bought. There was a sense of empowerment in knowing that my space was entirely my own, a sanctuary where I could express myself freely without compromise.

It was all about me.

As I moved from room to room, adding the new additions, I marveled at the freedom that living alone afforded me. My living room was a testament to my unique personality. Everything was mine. It was my tastes. My personality. It wasn’t about impressing anyone except myself. I didn’t have to worry about what my snotty friends might think when they came over for dinner and drinks. I wasn’t putting on a show anymore. This was just me.

The silence that enveloped me was no longer an unwelcome visitor, but rather a companion that allowed me to reflect and recharge. In this solitude, I discovered a newfound appreciation for my own company. It was a chance to reconnect with myself. I was finally unburying the old Izzy who had been loaded down with Patrick’s baggage. This was my moment to rise from the ashes and spread my wings.

Looking around my apartment, I realized that living alone had given me the opportunity to discover my true self, to cultivate a deep sense of self-reliance and inner strength. It was exactly what I needed after losing myself with Patrick.

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