Emilia

For three years, I lived in a world that changed around me as I stood stagnant and still at its center. For so long, I resented that fact, how everyone and everything around me continued to move, grow, and persevere.

When Creed returned two months ago to end our marriage and sever those loose ends that bound me to that center, even through the hurt, I was also relieved. It gave me hope that maybe then, I’d finally be able to move forward and change my life for the better. For a little while afterward, it felt like I was. After years of standing still, the slow speed at which pieces of my life started falling back into place was comfortable enough that I felt secure for the first time in a long while.

The instant I found out I was pregnant, that all fell apart.

Since then, it’s like that slow merry-go-round I was on transformed into a terrifying tilt-a-whirl ride that’s got me spinning in so many directions I can no longer tell if I’m coming or going. So much has changed—and will continue to change—that I can hardly keep up. In the blink of an eye, what felt like too much responsibility to bear alone has multiplied exponentially into a future I’m not equipped to face.

At least not yet.

What I need more than anything right now is for everything to stop, or at the very least slow down long enough so I can figure out what should happen next. I need a second to prioritize my efforts, otherwise, I’m terrified I’ll never catch up. That I’ll be doomed to a life where I’ll feel out of control for years to come, which doesn’t bode well for the three children depending on me to raise them in a happy, healthy home.

“Emb,” he whispers as the light from the hall trickles in through the open bedroom door.

It’s late. I think a little after midnight, though I don’t have the energy to check. Just like before Ben and Jen arrived for their visit, the moment they left, Lucas disappeared. Back to guard duty, he went. Wandering the property in an endless loop and then hiding away in the control room with James and Uncle David way past the time I went to bed.

It’s not that I’m naïve. I understand our security is important given the circumstances, but what he’s doing right now goes way beyond what is necessary to keep us safe. As he did back when we were kids after the fire that killed his parents, he’s keeping his distance. Outside of interactions that include the girls, he’s avoiding me. A fact that brings to the surface all those old wounds that were formed when he abandoned me that first time, and which were reopened and left gaping when Creed did the same.

He’s going to leave me. I can’t keep the thought from running through my mind, as moisture wells up behind my eyes.

I can sense his relief when I don’t respond. Closing the door behind him, the room plunges back into darkness. I know pretending to be asleep is juvenile, but like I’m a glutton for punishment, I’m desperate to see what he’ll do. Will he try to wake me or will this be yet another night where he tip-toes in silence to avoid having to face me?

God, please let him wake me.

I miss him so much I can hardly breathe. Like I’m an addict in withdrawal, every part of me yearns for even the slightest hint of his affection. A longing look. A simple touch. Heck, at this point I’d settle for having him climb into this bed, so I could sleep wrapped up in his arms—something that hasn’t happened since that fateful day I told him about the baby. Every night since, instead of following me to bed, he waits to join me hours later only to sneak in like a thief in the night, without even bothering to get in under the covers. He doesn’t lean in to kiss me goodnight, and he refrains from letting our bodies touch. After eight nights of this, I can feel the tether that binds us growing weaker and weaker.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

With eyes still closed, I listen as he removes his clothes and then drops them into the hamper. When he goes into the bathroom, he silently closes the door behind him, never bothering to turn on the light. A few minutes later he reenters the bedroom, followed by the familiar soap and minty scent that triggers memories of all the nights we got ready for bed together before ending up in each other’s arms like we couldn’t fathom being apart even during sleep. It makes me so damn sad I almost choke on the sob burning in my throat.

As he slowly and methodically climbs into the bed next to me, I hear him sigh. It’s a deep, sorrowful, and lonely sound that’s also laced with hints of relief. Like he’s both glad and sad that another day has passed without us confronting the turmoil between us. It tugs at that wounded piece of my broken heart with such force that I lose control and suck in a harsh breath.

To my horror, he goes completely still. Desperate to salvage the situation and keep him from witnessing my pathetic breakdown, I slow down the cadence of my breaths, while forcing back the grief. As the seconds pass, we lay there side by side, both of us hesitant to move out of fear it may burst the peaceful state of limbo that feels as stifling as it does safe. All the while, the yearning to feel his arms around me grows stronger. I need him to hold me, love me, and go back to cherishing me like he did just days ago. Though our relationship wasn’t perfect—since I was keeping a secret from him—at least we had intimacy. Even knowing I was hiding something, he still touched me and made love to me like he couldn’t get enough, but now…

“I’m sorry.” His whispered apology echoes loudly in my ears, springing forth a fresh wave of silent tears.

When I don’t respond, he shifts next to me like he’s rolled onto his side, facing me. Though I can’t see him, I can feel his stare as he scans over the silhouette of my back. When his warm hand lands affectionately on my arm, I lose the fight and break into a painful sob. Instantly, he’s there, his front flush against my back. The warmth of his body against me after days of frigid loneliness permeates my skin, which only exacerbates the agonizing ache inside my chest. As it’s always been the case, loving this man is the most gut-wrenching thing I’ve ever experienced, and his touch—like his existence in my life—is just as painful as it is necessary.

“I love you, my sweet Embree. That’s never going to change. I promise we will find a way to get through this.”

“You’re hurting me,” I confess, unable to hold the words back.

“I know, and I’m sorry. Christ. I swear I’m trying hard not to, I just…”

When he holds back and doesn’t finish the thought, I hold on to the anger coiling inside of me. “You just what?”

“I-I just need a little time.”

“Time? What does that mean?”

“It means exactly that.” He drops a tender kiss on the side of my head. “I love you. The one thing I’m certain of is that there is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. Finding out you’re pregnant doesn’t change that, but I can’t deny that I’m struggling to figure out where I fit in all this.”

“Where you fit? I don’t understand.”

“You’re having his baby, Emb. This is the third child the two of you will share. The only reason he allowed me to adopt the girls was to protect them from the trouble he’s in, but what happens when all that is resolved?”

“Where is this coming from? I’ve told you repeatedly that I choose you. If somehow everything works out and he returns, then you and I—together—will decide how much access he’ll have to the kids.” When he stays silent, I panic. “There’s more, isn’t there? The possibility of him coming back isn’t the only thing holding you back, is it?”

“I’m doing the best I can here, Emb. I’m trying hard to wrap my mind around the fact you’re pregnant with his kid and what that means for us. All I’m asking is for a little time to work it all out in my head.”

“Work what out?” I ask in a high-pitched tone that conveys the fear and trepidation settling deep within my bones. Sliding away from him, I sit up on the edge of the bed. “You think you’re the only one overwhelmed by what’s happening? That you’re the only one trying to work out what’s coming next? You ask for time, but I don’t have the luxury of time, Lucas. I have two little girls who are growing up faster than I’d like and now I have a baby who’ll be here in less than seven months. My children are counting on me to provide some semblance of stability, which, given the circumstances, is already hard enough.”

“Hey,” he moves to sit next to me like he wants to hold me, but instead he reaches out to take my hand. “I get it, okay? I understand…”

“No. You don’t. You couldn’t possibly understand,” I scoff, tearing my hand away from his. “I know it isn’t fair to you, but I don’t have the time to wait for you to figure out what you want. I can’t afford to sink deeper into this… this incessant need to be with you. Every day I’m forced to watch you pull further away from me takes more and more of the energy I need to care for the two little people who need me most in this world.”

With my anger dissipating, I’m plunged back into the throes of loss and grief. Looking down at my hands which wring nervously on my lap, I realize there is only one option. He’s either in or he’s out. The choice is ultimately his, but if there’s one thing I learned from my marriage to Creed is that I won’t accept another halfway relationship in which my partner doesn’t prioritize a life with us.

“The girls already lost their father, Lucas. If they’re going to lose you too, I’d rather it happen now. While they’re still young enough to not internalize they’ve been abandoned for a second time. Plus, I can’t afford to lose myself in the pain of losing you. My children deserve a mom who is happy and whole, and this…” I point between us before dropping my hands. “This isn’t healthy. For me, for the girls, or you. We can’t go on like this.”

Like he’s been slapped, he flinches, and in the next second, he’s on his feet. Grabbing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his dresser, he gets dressed without looking at me. With my heart breaking and threatening to rip out from my chest, I watch as he opens the bedroom door, allowing the dim light from the hallway to shine in.

Without turning around to look at me, he stands at the doorway for two breaths before he says, “You’re right. I’m sorry, Embree. For everything.”

And then he’s gone.

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Author’s Note:

It's all coming to a head and I'm not liking the choices they are both making.

Are you surprised by the way they're both handling the situation? Do you think Embree should give him the time he's asking for, or do you think she's right? 

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