My heart skips a beat at the thought of all of us packing up and moving way, saying goodbye to all our friends, to everything we know. “Do you think this is something we should seriously consider?”
He swallows hard and there’s a certain intensity about him I don’t see too often. “Yes, we should seriously consider it, Ella.”
“You’re ready to leave your job, all your friends, your family?”
“We can make a new life, Ella. It’ll be hard, but we can do it.”
My spirits lift. There is still a ‘we’. He hasn’t turned his back on us, despite all I’ve put him through. I know he loves me still.
He leans in on his elbows and his eyes are dark and serious when he tells me, “You need to get away from him.”
My stomach seems to tighten at his words. He’s right. This would be for the best, for me, for us and for our family.
I don’t say a word and he smiles at me. “So, are we watching this show, or what?”
I’m folding a load of laundry when Weston calls. As soon as I hear his voice, I trudge over to the powder room and lock myself in there with the phone. I don’t need Gabe hearing this conversation. He’s likely to blow his stack if he knows Weston is still calling me.
“Weston,” I sigh. “You shouldn’t be calling.”
“I needed to see how you were faring. I want to know you’re well. I’ve been in tatters thinking about you.”
“I’m great,” I assure him. “Both physically and emotionally,” I tell him, wondering how he’s doing. I know he was broken up about the baby. The last time I saw him, he was completely shattered. “How are you?”
“Hanging in there,” he says, and then adds without preamble, “I’d love to see you.”
My heart beats a little faster when I tell him, “Weston, we can’t. We need to stop this. Our story is over.”
“It isn’t for me.”
“Well, it is for me. It has to be.”
“You just need a little more time, Mirella,” he presses, not letting go. “You’ve been through something awful and you’re trying to run away from it.”
Yes, I’m trying to run away from you.
I press my head against the wall, not wanting to say what I’m about to say. “I’m not running away. I’m trying to move forward with my life…my life with Gabe. But you’re not letting me do that.”
I hear a sigh and I can tell I’ve hurt him, but I carry on, needing to tell him this. “I won’t be moving in with you, Weston. I know you have this beautiful house all ready for us but–”
“I don’t care if there’s no baby anymore, Mirella. Like I’ve told you, it doesn’t change a thing. We belong together.”
“Weston…”
“We can try again,” he says. His voice is animated like he’s just had the most brilliant idea. “We can have another baby. We can still be a family…you, me, the girls and…”
“Weston,” I sigh. “You’re acting crazy again.”
“I’m not crazy, Mirella,” he tells me, his voice soft. “I’m in love.”
My toes are tucked uncomfortably into pink foam toe separators. I apply a second coat of bright pink with military precision.
I remember sitting in my walk-in closet that day so long ago, playing dress-up with the girls. Appalled by the dreadful state of my feet, I vowed to pay a bit more attention to myself, pamper myself a little. Although, I may have taken it all a little too far — I had been thinking along the lines of the occasional mani or pedi or bubble bath — not taking on a lover. But ever since, I’ve been doing a weekly manicure and pedicure, usually at night after I’ve tucked the girls in.
“Claire promised me she won’t get up again,” Gabe tells me, standing just outside my room (our room), his tall frame filling the doorway. I focus on my toes and try to not look at him. It seems I’ve been very ultra-aware of this casual-sexy vibe he’s got going; the worn tees, loose summer pants, and grey sweats hanging off his hips, just so.
I smile. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
He walks in uninvited, although I must admit I’m not even close to being upset about it. He sits on the edge of the bed, and as his two-hundred plus pound body lands on the mattress, the bed bounces. Thankfully my bottle of pink nail polish sits safely on my night