“This isn’t healthy, Owen. You’ve given up your entire social life to cater to the whims of a pregnant girl you didn’t even know, and I let you.”
“So, what, you’re kicking me out of your life?” His voice is even, to the point of being unnerving.
“No,” I say almost too quickly. “You’re a huge part of my life, puppy, and I want it to stay that way, but I want you to be able to live your life too. I’m not kicking you out of anything at all. I just think we need to acknowledge the reality we’ve been living in.”
“So, what, it’s once-a-week visits, then what? Once she arrives I never see you again?”
My heart constricts at the thought. It’s the last thing I want, but I can’t be unfair to him. So, I do what I do best. I’m honest with him.
“I see the way our interactions have been changing. You’re not the only one with the longing looks, but I can’t act on them. For the sake of this baby I have to put her first, and lately it feels like we’re in a relationship without any of the benefits going your way. I mean, how will you explain to the next girl you date that you need to run off to help a woman and her kid every few days? Because shit’s going to happen in my life, stuff will get messy, and it’s not fair that I drag you down with me.”
His eyes shine as he stares at me, his presence digging deep into my soul and wrapping around it like a vice. I want to take everything back, beg him to be with me and the baby even though I know it’s completely selfish. But I’ve come to the realization that I may be slightly in love with Owen Bower, and what’s worse than my own agony from not being with him would be causing him any pain.
“Drag me down, is that what you really think?” he says, his voice low but holding a depth I’ve never heard from him. I nod.
Saying absolutely nothing, Owen turns around and walks out the door. My heart leaves with him.
I stare at the closed door, Owen’s presence no longer occupying my flat. I used to joke about him being over the top, too much even, but now that he’s gone, I can’t think of anything I want back more.
I did this. I pushed him away because he’s young and has so much more to do in life. The last thing he needs is to be shackled to a baby at twenty-eight. It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t be fair. So, despite the fact my heart is aching, my mind weary from months of overthinking, I push it all down. Push all of it into a deep dark hole I never knew could exist inside of me. I push it down for her. Because she is too small, too unaffected by this life to be weighed down by her mother’s dilemmas before she’s even taken her first breath.
“It’s just you and me, little one,” I whisper to my overgrown bump, my hands moving up and down against the firm skin.
Exhausted from it all, I put my iPhone on shuffle as I walk over to my bed, needing just a few moments of being close to her.
Cat Power’s “Sea of Love” drifts through my speakers. Perhaps it’s the perfect song for this moment, for the love I feel for this little human I created. Or perhaps it’s a dagger in my heart, a reminder that despite my denials, my feelings for Owen have only continued to grow. To bloom.
I pull back my frilled sheets, a gift from my late grandmother, something I’ve never been able to yet part with, and then I climb in, careful of my precious cargo as I turn to the side. The fresh scents of baby powder and faint gardenia cling to my nose as I breathe in the freshly made bed. My tidiness has only increased in recent months due to one person.
Owen pops into my mind yet again, but I push him out. Now isn’t the time for selfishness. Isn’t that what being a mother is all about? The ultimate act of selflessness, giving your everything, putting all your child’s needs before your own?
I breathe in and out, trying to calm myself down. My protruding belly keeps me company as I drift my hands up and down, the two of us in our ultimate little safe haven.
“I promise to do everything I possibly can for you, little one, even when I can’t.” I whisper the words, as though maybe if I’m soft enough she will hear me. And as if on cue, her little arms move, or maybe it’s her little legs, alerting me to the fact that I’m indeed not alone.
We stay like this together as the song plays, my mind feeling nostalgic, so I press the Repeat button, listening to it Lord knows how many times.
It’s probably twenty minutes later when the front door opens, the song still playing in the background. I freeze, uncertain how to process the fact that Owen’s come back.
Maybe he forgot his phone.
Or his jacket?
My question is answered when I hear the rustling of a shopping bag and the heavy footsteps of his boots. There is a pause outside my door before two soft thumps. I hold my breath, eyes staring straight at the wall in front of me, latching onto the stack of magazines I’ve had in that corner since I first moved in.
“You don’t have to say anything, Lottie. But I’m not just walking away. This—” He pauses, voice strained. I stay still, saying absolutely nothing.
“I may not be your baby’s blood, but she already
