Page 52 of Rhett

“I love you too, baby,” I murmur, leaning down to kiss her softly. “Both of you. And I'm not going anywhere.”

As the night wears on, I stay by Sofia's side, holding her hand and talking softly to her and our baby. The monitors beep steadily, reassuring us that our daughter's heartbeat remains strong.

Despite my exhaustion, I refuse to sleep, not wanting to leave Sofia alone for even a moment. As dawn breaks, the doctor comes in with good news—the bleeding has stopped and there are no signs of preterm labor. Sofia will need to take it easy for a while, but they believe she and the baby will be just fine.

Relief washes over us both as I pull her hand to my mouth, kissing it. Once we’re discharged, I can’t get us out of there fast enough. We take an Uber home, and once we’re home, I lift her out of the car and carry her inside.

“Quit treating me like I’m going to break,” Sofia barks from our bed.

I take a deep breath, to keep calm. She’s on bed rest for another week and then we’ll see her doctor and see if she can be off bed rest. There has been no contractions or bleeding, but she’s been in bed since the accident.

This hasn’t tested our relationship too badly, but I’m not sure how much more either one of us can take. We just want our daughter and Sofia to both be healthy.

That’s what I tell her. “I’m sorry, but not sorry. I just want you both safe,” I say softly.

Sofia grabs a pillow and screams into it. “Ugh…I know. I want the baby safe too, but I’m tired of being in bed. I’m tired of being on the couch I’m tired of everyone tiptoeing around me. I might not be able to do a lot, but I just want to be treated like I’m normal.”

“Is it really so fucking wrong that I love you and want to take care of you? For fuck’s sake, Sofia, people have rearranged their schedules to come hang out with you. The least you could do is act fucking grateful.” I leave her in the bedroom, grab my keys, and slam out of my house just needing to walk away before one of us says something we’ll regret.

28

Sofia

The front door slams and I begin to cry. I didn’t mean to be a bitch. It’s just been stressful, and you can only lie around so much before you can go stir-crazy. This was just a bad day, but now he’s mad at me because I’m a selfish brat.

I lie in bed crying for a while after Rhett storms out. The guilt and frustration overwhelm me. I know I've been difficult to deal with lately, but everything has been getting to me. Still, that's no excuse for lashing out at Rhett when he's been nothing but supportive.

He was right too, our friends and family have all pitched in to help so I could rest. They would bring meals, clean, or just hang out with me while Rhett worked.

After about an hour, I hear the front door open again. Rhett's footsteps approach the bedroom slowly. When he appears in the doorway, his expression is a mix of concern and regret.

“Hey,” he says softly. “I'm sorry I walked out like that. I shouldn't have lost my temper.”

Fresh tears well up in my eyes. “No, I'm the one who should be sorry. You've been amazing through all of this and I've been awful to you.”

Rhett comes and sits on the edge of the bed, taking my hand in his. “We're both under a lot of stress right now. It's understandable that tempers are running high.”

I squeeze his hand. “That doesn't make it okay for me to snap at you. You're right—everyone has been so supportive—and I haven't been appreciative enough. I'm just going stir-crazy being stuck in bed.”

“I know, baby,” Rhett says, stroking my hair gently. “And I'm sorry if I've been overbearing. I'm just so worried about you and our little girl.”

“I know you are,” I tell him. “And I love you for it. I promise I'll try to be more patient.”

Rhett leans down to kiss me softly. “And I'll try to give you a little more space. How about we ask the doctor if you can at least go for drives for a change of scenery?”

I nod eagerly. “That would be amazing.”

We spend the rest of the evening talking things through calmly. By the time we go to sleep, I feel much better about everything. I know there will likely be more rough patches ahead, but as long as Rhett and I are open and honest with each other we can get past those tough times.

The next morning, I wake up to the smell of pancakes wafting from the kitchen. Rhett appears in the doorway with a tray.

“Breakfast in bed for my girls,” he announces with a smile.

As we eat together, I feel a renewed sense of appreciation for my husband and everything he does for us.

“Thank you for this,” I say softly, squeezing his hand. “Not just breakfast, but everything. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Rhett leans over to kiss me gently. “You don't have to thank me, baby. We're in this together, remember?”

---