by J. L. Berg
And right now, I needed all the help I could get.
As I stepped into the apartment, I noticed right away how quiet it was.
Too quiet.
“Lailah,” I called out.
Nothing.
I looked around, noticing the untouched kitchen and the empty living room. As I padded across the apartment toward the bedroom, I glanced into the office and guest bedrooms.
Nothing.
My stomach began to turn sour.
Crossing the threshold of our bedroom didn’t alleviate my nerves as my eyes went from one side to the other, and I still found nothing.
She wasn’t here.
I pulled out my cell phone, checking for missed messages, texts, anything that would alert me as to why she wasn’t home.
Maybe she’d just gone for a walk or run an errand. She normally had class today, but she’d mentioned she was skipping. She might have changed her mind.
I tried her cell, but it quickly went to voice mail.
Feeling frustrated, I walked into the bathroom, running the tap water waiting for it to turn ice cold. Cupping it in my hands, I splashed my face over and over until I felt my heart calm slightly. Grabbing a clean towel, I held it to my face and breathed slowly, in and out, rationalizing with myself, before I noticed how empty the counter looked.
The towel fell to the floor.
I opened the medicine cabinets and found everything of hers missing. Walking to the shower, I found her shampoo, shave gel, and other toiletries gone.
Running into the bedroom, I pulled open the doors to our closet. Dozens of hangers lie empty. Some were on the floor as if she’d packed quickly for wherever she set off to.
She’d left me.
Oh God, she left me.
My hands shook as I speed-dialed the number on my phone, waiting for Marcus to pick up.
He cheerfully greeted me. “Hey there, J-Man. How’s it going?”
“Where is she?” I asked in a rush.
Concern enveloped his tone. “Who? What are you talking about?”
“Lailah. Where the hell is she, Marcus?”
Silence.
“What is going on, Jude? Did you two have some sort of fight?”
“She left me, and the first place she would go is to Molly,” I said slowly, my voice gritty and flat.
“Molly spoke with her this morning, but she didn’t mention anything about Lailah coming here. What the hell is going on, Jude?”
“She talked with Molly?” I asked, ignoring his last question.
“Yeah. I was out surfing, and I think she called while Molly was feeding Zander. We babysat last night. She said Lailah sounded a little down, but they had a good chat.”
“Do you know what they talked about?”
“Motherhood, I guess. She asked what it was like for Molly as a single mother or something like that. Seriously, Jude, you’re scaring me. What could possibly have sent her packing?”
My eyes went wide with panic, and I nearly doubled over. “Will you call me, if she contacts you?”
“Jude, will you tell me what’s going on?” he pleaded.
“I can’t—not yet, not now.”
“Okay, son,” he answered, sounding defeated. “I’ll let you know if we hear anything. Do you need anything?” he offered, his voice warm and sure.
“Just my wife,” I answered.
We said our good-byes, and I promised to call in the morning with any updates.
Soon, it quickly became silent again in the apartment. I looked around, feeling swallowed by the square feet of the place. Without her here, the walls suddenly felt large and ominous, growing taller and darker, like a nightmare come to life.
I needed to find her.
Watching the sunset fall across the horizon, I never moved. Feeling paralyzed by my uselessness, I just sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her to come back to me. Where was she? If she didn’t show up in California, how would I even begin to look for her?
Around eight that night, my phone finally buzzed. I grabbed for it, seeing a single text from Marcus.
She’s here, was all it said.
No longer in on hold flux, I had what I’d been waiting for, and I jumped into action. I threw anything I could grab into a suitcase while making flight arrangements on my phone at the same time.
Over the years, I’d been told every marriage, even the good ones, would reach a point where it was time to either fight for the one you wanted or call it a draw and collect your winnings.
It was the great fight or flight of marriage.
I’d known, someday, Lailah and I would have ours. I’d just never expected it to be a month after we’d said our vows.
As I packed the last of my suitcase and locked the apartment, I knew which path I’d chosen, which path I’d always choose.
For Lailah, I’d always fight.
LESS THAN TWO days.
Two days of doctor’s appointments, arguments, and rushed decisions.
Two days of longing for the way it had once been.
Even though I had made the decision to leave, my heart still bled for the loss. It still reached out for him in the darkness and called out for him in the wee hours of the morning. I hoped we could repair the damage that had been done. I hoped with a bit of time he might see things differently and perhaps warm up to the idea of becoming a father.
Or he’d have to possibly let me go.
My eyes squeezed shut as I listened to the sound of the waves crashing nearby. I pulled my sweater tighter and leaned back into the reclined lounge chair on the deck, admiring the stars I’d missed so much while in the bright lights of the city. The condo was quiet tonight. After my surprise appearance and my rapid meltdown soon after, my parents had helped me settle in, giving me the guest room closest to the ocean. From the bed, I could hear the soothing sounds of the water and feel the heat of the sun as it moved across the sky.
My mother had held me as I cried and told her everything that had happened. The phone call earlier that morning had suddenly made sense to her, and as she’d cradled me in her arms, she’d stroked my hair and told me it would be all right—even though both of us knew better.
We’d faced hardship before.
Marcus had come in after that, wanting to know everything on the medical side of things. Until the next day when I could transfer my records back to his care, all he had was what I could tell him, and unfortunately, it wasn’t much.
“We’ll get you set up with the best OB in town,” he’d promised. “We’ll figure it out.”
I’d nodded, thanking him for his kindness.
“Hey, you want to order a pizza or something? Watch a movie?” he’d offered. His head had casually leaned against the doorframe, his tanned body turned toward me.
“No, I’m fine. Why don’t you two go out or something? You don’t need to hang around here just for me.”
He must have sensed my need for solitary because he had nodded. “Okay, kid. I’ll bring you back something.”
“Sounds good.”
Now, it was just me and the waves.
“I thought you said watching the water was my thing,” a deep voice called out in the darkness.
I turned to see Jude standing in the shadows, holding a suitcase in one hand and the spare key my mother kept hidden in a ceramic frog in the other.
“I figured I’d give it a try,” I answered calmly, swallowing the lump in my throat that had just formed at the mere sight of him.
I stood, fiddling with the sleeves of my sweater, as our eyes met. He looked taller and much more formidable as I watched him drop his bag and stalk forward.
“All the way across the country? You know we have oceans on the East Coast?”
“I needed some space,” I replied softly.
He closed the distance between us. He was so close I could feel his angry breath on my neck.
“I don’t want space, Lailah.”
His mouth closed over mine, searing every ner
ve ending with fire until I was consumed by only him. My hands clung to him, pulling him closer, and his body molded to mine. Every heated, turbulent word and emotion I’d felt over the last two days exploded as I touched him.
I wanted him to feel my pain, my outrage, and torment. I wanted him to understand just how much he’d hurt me by refusing to support me and instead feeling like he could make decisions for me.
It was my life—mine, not his.
I pushed him backward, watching his eyes go wide with shock and a flicker of heat.
“Angry, Lailah?” he asked, the intensity of his face aglow by the distant moonlight. “Good. Me, too.”
He grabbed me around the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder. I punched at his back, but he just laughed darkly as he carried me through the apartment.
When he spotted my things in the room toward the back, he lowered me to the bed and shut the door. I watched in stunned silence as his clothes came off, one piece at a time. His eyes never left mine. It was as if I were his hard-earned prize.
He bent down and slowly slipped my sweater off my shoulders. “You always said you wanted all of me, remember?”
My gaze lifted to him, confusion painting my face until I saw his crooked grin.
“Well, I guess you can have your wish now,” he said with a hint of sadness.
I wanted to stop him, tell him we didn’t have to do this tonight, but before I could, his mouth was on mine once again, and I was lost to the feeling of his naked body pressed against mine. Every article of clothing I wore was shed until skin met skin, and I was drowning in his heat and warmth.
“No more boundaries,” he whispered. “No more barriers. Just you, me, and the sea of emotions separating us.”
I cried out as his body claimed mine, entering swiftly, and I felt him inside me for the first time without anything between us.
“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, his head resting against the curve of my shoulder, as his heart raced against my chest.
“Jude,” I softly called.
He answered with a hard thrust that had my body reeling.
“Jude, please . . . look at me.”
His eyes finally met mine, and I saw torture and longing, love and sadness, and hope mixed with so much fear.
He stilled as I reached up, pushing back the hair that had fallen in front of his face. Molding my palm against his cheek, I kissed his chin and then his jawline before moving to the outward corner of his lip. I finally pulled him down, fusing our bodies and mouths. Our tears bled together as our souls reunited, reminding us of the never-ending bond we’d pledged to one another.
Love was eternal.
Love was endless, and love would carry us through the storm to the other side—whatever it might be.
I awoke the next morning, alone and disoriented.
My hands reached for him but found nothing but empty cold sheets. As my eyelids cracked open, I searched the room, trying to remember where I was—as anyone might do in new surroundings. Then, the memories of last night flooded my mind.
I bolted upright, looking around the room for something, anything, that would tell me it wasn’t a dream.
I found his dress shirt and tie slung over the edge of the bed—a simple sign that he was here, somewhere.
I stumbled out of bed, reaching for a pair of sweats and a hoodie, and I hobbled down the hallway in search of coffee and sustenance. I found my mom at the counter, reading the paper, while she nibbled on a bagel and sipped on a cup of tea.
“Hi,” I managed to say, my eyelids barely staying open long enough to find a cup.
“I see your husband arrived last night,” she said stoically.
“Yes,” I answered. “Do you know where he is?”
“Running,” was all she said.
I bit my lip and took a deep breath.
“You two talk?”
“No, but we will,” I answered, not offering any more information than that, as I quickly finished buttering a piece of toast and grabbed my coffee.
“Caffeine, dear,” my mother stated as she stopped me on my way to the patio.
“What?”
“Pregnant women really shouldn’t have caffeine.”
I looked down at my steaming cup of coffee, suddenly realizing who I was now.
I was no longer Lailah, the girl with the heart defect. I was Lailah, the mother-to-be.
Priorities shifted. It was a nice change of pace even if it meant giving up my morning cup of Joe.
“Okay,” I said, handing her the cup. I went back to the refrigerator for a bottle of orange juice.
I managed to catch the tail end of Jude’s marathon run as I settled into the recliner on the patio. His shirt was tucked in the back of his shorts, and as he ran, every fiber of muscle moved with him.
He looked like the same Greek god I’d fallen for in the hallways of that hospital.
Every female head turned to watch him speed by, but his attention was set dead ahead. He swung right and slowed to a walk. His eyes drifted up to the house and caught mine. His gaze intensified and followed me the entire way up the beach until he disappeared below the deck.
The door to the deck slid open about ten minutes later, and I watched him slip into a chair beside me. The smell of soap and freshly washed hair followed him as he moved toward me.
“We need to talk,” he said before turning back to the waves as they calmly fell, one after another, like clockwork.
“I can’t do what you’re asking me to, Jude,” I answered softly, my eyes falling to my nervous hands, as my fingers traced my wedding ring.
“I understand that.”
“You—what?” I asked, confusion marring my features, as my gaze met his.
“You made that abundantly clear when you left me.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Look,” he said, his hands running through his hair, as he bent forward, “I can’t make this decision for you. I get that now. But I also can’t stand around and watch as you allow yourself to slowly fade away. After everything we’ve been through, you at least have to know that of me.”
I sighed in frustration. “So, where does that leave us?”
“Together, Lailah! Don’t you get it by now? Don’t you see? The answer will always lie in us figuring things out together. We already tried life apart. It didn’t work.”
“So, what do you want me to do?” I asked, tears leaking from my eyes.
“Fight, damn it!” he answered loudly. “If we’re going to do this, I need you to promise that you won’t give up. Fight until your last dying breath. Do everything the doctors tell you to—no exceptions. Take every precaution and promise you won’t give up.”
He got up from his chair and knelt down in front of me, wiping away the moisture from my cheeks.
“Because I need you—yesterday, now, tomorrow. I’ll always need you. And if we’re going to be parents, I can’t do this alone. You’re the better half of this whole, and our child will need you as its mother.”
Tears poured down my face.
“You said, our child.”
“Yeah, I did. It’s kind of strange.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I choked out.
“Say you’ll fight for our family.”
Nodding wildly, I dived into his arms. “I’ll fight. We’ll be a family. I promise.”
As he held me, I sent a silent prayer to heaven, asking for strength.
This was one promise I never wanted to break.
“SO FAR, SO good,” Dr. Garcia said brightly. “I want to see you back here in two weeks, but it looks to me like you’ve got a fighter. Make sure you keep drinking lots of water, take your prenatal vitamins, keep up on your medications, and call if you have any questions or if there are any changes. Oh, and the nurse will show you the way to your ultrasound appointment.”
“Thank you,” Lailah said.
I moved to shake her hand. This was our third appointment in a month. Most pregnant women didn’t
even see the doctor until they reached six weeks, but since Lailah was considered high risk with a high probability of miscarriage, we got the frequent-flyer card and came much more frequently. We’d turned down genetic testing for now, agreeing that the idea of not knowing was less stress and Lailah was convinced it wouldn’t change anything.
At this point, I wasn’t so sure.
So far, everything was running smoothly, but we still had the ultrasound, and until then, I didn’t think I would be able to take a single breath.
“Jude, can you hand me my shoes?” Lailah asked as she threw on her sweater and grabbed her purse.
I helped her into her flats and took her hand as she stepped off the exam table. The nurse was waiting for us, and we followed her down the hall to another wing of the medical office.
The first time we’d arrived at this location, I’d immediately voiced my concern that it wasn’t in the hospital. Lailah had laughed, pointing out that it was right next door.
“Yes, but it’s not part of the hospital. What if something goes wrong, and you need to be admitted? How long will that take?” I’d questioned.
“Marcus said she’s one of the best doctors in obstetrics, as far as he’s concerned. I’m in perfectly good hands.”
I’d grumbled but relented, agreeing that there was only one doctor in the family and it wasn’t me.
We’d decided to stay in California indefinitely.
Right now, we needed calm and serenity. We couldn’t get that in New York.
I’d thought Roman’s head might explode when I called him and explained I was taking a year off, but he had been surprisingly Zen about the entire thing.
I’d offered to be available for teleconferences and emergencies, but he’d just said, “We got it,” and that was it.
I hoped I would have a company to return to next year.
I hoped I would have a lot of things to return to in a year. Lailah and I had agreed to keep the dark thoughts to a minimum, believing that there was no point in mulling over what might be, and instead, we were focusing on the present we still had. But there were times I struggled.
Every time I saw her, I would stare just a bit longer, capturing the way her eyes looked in the warm California sun.
