Page 48 of Family Like This

I’ve always heard the phrasenever go to bed angry.I’m not mad, but I hate going to sleep with that fight hanging over me. Leaving things unsaid is not who I am. It preys on my anxiety when I don’t know where I stand with someone, and that’s especially true with Amelia. A part of me doesn’t feel certain of our relationship yet, and I’m worried she’ll run from me if it gets hard.

Shaking my head, I force my feet to move. My bedroom is almost directly across from hers but the doorway is a few feet farther down the hallway. Her bedroom is dark as I walk by, but surprisingly the door is open. Letting out a sigh, I walk to my room, but before I step inside, I hear her voice.

“Miles?”

I turn on a dime and stride quickly into her room. “Hey. Everything okay?”

“Can we talk?” she whispers.

I climb onto the bed and lie down next to her. She’s on her side, facing away from me.

“I’m here, babe.” She reaches behind her and grabs my hand, bringing it to rest on her stomach. I scooch closer, wrapping my body around hers. “I’m sorry, Ames. I’m not trying to take your independence. That’s the last thing I want to do. It’s part of what drew me to you, and I never want you to lose that. But I can’t apologize for wanting to take care of you. It’s woven into me now. I need to make sure you’re cared for and protected. I’m sorry if I’m going about it the wrong way or that’s hurting you. I want to find what works for us both.”

She taps her lamp on the lowest setting, then slowly, she rolls over and looks at me, a soft smile on her face. She places her hand on top of mine. “I’m sorry I got mad and shut down. I didn’t know how to say the right words. I wasn’t sure what they were.”

“Do you know now?” I ask, sweeping some hair out of her face.

“Some of it.”

“Tell me. I always want you to be able to tell me anything. Even if it’s hard or painful.”

“I’m not used to this. Not used to having someone else take care of me or someone else I need to think about. I’ve barely gotten used to the fact that I’m currently a vessel for another human being. My worth feels outside ofmeright now. Which makes me feel less like myself.” She blows out a breath. “None of this makes sense, does it?”

“It makes sense,” I reassure her, flipping my hand over and wrapping it around hers.

“I’m used to doing what I want, when I want, and not worrying about anyone else. Or having you worry about me. To me, climbing on that stool made perfect sense. Things needed to be put away. I wasn’t consistently stepping up and down on it. I had my hand on the counter. I was being careful. There was so much to be done and I wanted to do it. I didn’t want to sit or wait around. That makes me feel useless, and I hate feeling useless. If I was tired, I’d rest.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel useless. I’d never see you as that. From my perspective, you’re already working hard every day growing our baby. That work is hard enough. I don’t want you to have to do more. Based on what you said a few minutes ago, I understand now that your worth in any way being equated with being pregnant is hurtful to you. I’m sorry, that wasn’t my intent. I don’t want to stifle you, but I do want you to take it easy and rest more—before you feel tired. Resting is okay. It doesn’t make you weak. I need you to learn that.”

I look at her tentatively.

“Thank you for trying to understand. I’m sure that’s not easy, seeing as I don’t understand most of it myself.”

“You’re allowed to feel things, Ames. And those feelings are allowed to be complicated.”

“I’m not used to them,” she huffs.

Can’t help but smile. Even angry, she’s adorable. I’m a smart enough man not to tell her that, though. Especially with her knee so close to my balls.

“That’s okay, too.”

“I appreciate you wanting to protect me and take care of me. It feels… good to be able to rely on someone like that again, but I’m still learning. I need you to learn, too. You can’t control everything.” I frown at that, and she runs her hand up my arm. “I’m not just talking about me. In life, you will never be able to control everything, no matter how badly you want to. I need you to focus on what you can control—which is not me. If you have concerns, you can voice them, and we can talk about them together.”

My brow furrows. “Does that mean I should start asking you before assuming you’re thirsty? Should I be asking about everything?”

It goes against my nature. Yes, some of how I’ve been with her has been more about trying to prevent negative outcomes by controlling things, but other things—like getting her water or food or telling her to lie down—are truly me trying to anticipate her needs and care for her.

She opens her mouth, then closes it again. “I… no.” Her cheeks heat, and I quirk an eyebrow, lifting her chin so I can brush my lips over hers.

“Are you saying you like that? Maybe you like a little morecontrolthan you think.”

Meeting my gaze, she says, “I like when the bossy side of you comes out. When you tell me to eat and even though I complain, I usually am hungry. I like that. I won’t complain if you keep doing that. But deciding you’re going to drive me to and from work every day is too much.”

“Okay.” I can see that. “Can we at least ride together on days when we have similar hours?”

“Sometimes I don’t know if I’ll need to work late until I’m there.”

I nod. I don’t want her driving. I know it’s fucking insane, but the passenger seat is the safer seat for her to be in. She says I can’t control everything, but I can mitigate how much danger she’s in. But I get it, that makes me seem a little crazy. Pregnant people all over the world drive every day. Some are on their feet for hours at a job. It’s stupid to think I can somehow drive her everywhere she needs to go, but I want to anyway. Although I also don’t want to rip away her independence.

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