Unhinge - Calia Read Page 0,31

and plywood. To the right I looked at the U-shaped staircase with two landings. I pictured them finished: mahogany steps. White risers. The banister would match the steps and the wrought iron spindles would complete it all.

Even though it was just the two of us, we were very slowly outgrowing the townhouse. The spare bedroom was Wes’s office, and that was putting it loosely.

One of the first things he wanted in this house was an office, with built-in bookshelves.

My wants were simpler. I wanted an open floor plan. In my head I could picture each room having multiple windows. French doors that led to the deck. A bay window in the master bedroom. Most of all, I pictured a beautiful backyard, with flowers everywhere. I didn’t have much of a green thumb. The last time I tried to “garden,” I was a little girl helping my mother out. A few flowers wilted away. After that I stuck to plants and fake ficus.

“Straight ahead is the living room and kitchen,” Wes said. “Now, I talked to the contractor and he said that the type of flooring you want in the kitchen is on back order and it may take a couple of months. He left other options for you to look at.” I nodded, overwhelmed by everything I was seeing but smiling in spite of myself. Wes’s enthusiasm was contagious. How could I not be so happy when that was all he was feeling?

“Let’s look around some more,” he said as he guided me deeper into the house.

We moved from room to room, quietly watching the people work around us. We walked up the stairs to the second floor and the whole time I pictured what it would be like to hear the sound of kids’ feet running up and down the halls. The idea made me smile and gave me hope; I still wasn’t pregnant.

In the back of my mind, I knew there was no reason to be down on myself. We’d only been “trying” to get pregnant actively since the beginning of the summer, but almost immediately my imagination kicked in and started to reach for all the things that could possibly be wrong.

Wes showed me the spacious master bedroom, with a massive walk-in closet with separate racks for my dresses and shoes and purses. “Do you love it?”

“Who wouldn’t love this? It’s amazing.”

“This is all for you.”

I gave him a grateful smile and made a slow circle around the room.

Up next were the two spare bedrooms. It was the bedroom next to ours that caught my eye. I could picture soft white carpet beneath my feet and the walls painted a soothing yellow. There would be a rocking chair in the corner. A white armoire filled with baby clothes with a changing table right next to it. A wicker basket of toys would be on the floor. And placed right in front of the large window would be a white crib. I walked over to where the window would be and looked out into the backyard. The grass needed to be mowed but I could picture flowers in a wide range of colors planted along the white picket fence that was being put up. I saw a hammock hanging between the two large oak trees. I would put brown wicker furniture on the deck. It would be my own personal escape.

I turned back to Wes. He was watching me with a hint of a smile.

“This would be a nice nursery,” I said casually.

Wes leaned against the doorframe and cocked his head to the side. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” I said softly. “I do.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asked bluntly.

My smile slipped. “No, I’m not.”

What kind of question was that, and why did he look so relieved? His reaction clashed with my pain, instantly putting me on the defensive.

Without a word, I walked out of the room. In such an empty space, the sound of my footsteps echoed all around me. I hurried down the stairs with Wes hot on my heels.

“Victoria!”

I stopped and whirled around. “What?”

Wes stopped two steps above me. He gripped the wall and banister for support. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong?” I stared at him with disbelief. “You looked so happy when I said I wasn’t pregnant. And you know how much I want a child.”

He looked genuinely confused and hurt by my actions. It was as though we’d never discussed the idea of kids. It was as though my efforts to quit my job