Page 65 of Baby Maker

“You have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry you’re hurting. You’re right. I can’t understand your grief, any more than I could understand my mother’s. Or my own. But sometimes, it’s not about being able to understand, but just being there. Being present. Sometimes the only way to stop the suffocation is to open up enough to let the air in.”

She sniffles on the end of the line, and I’m not sure what she’s feeling. I’m not sure of much of anything anymore. “Can I see you? I miss you so much.”

I struggle for the correct response, if there even is one. Do I want to see her? Desperately. But I worry about a repeat of that weekend—of recurring repeats throughout the course of our relationship.

She reads into my silence, her sniffles getting louder. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I know I hurt you with my actions. I never meant to hurt you, Keegan. You’re the most amazing man. I think I just needed to get it out. All that anguish. I feel calmer now. Those tears that I held back all those months? They felt really good to let go of.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Come on, meet me for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll pick up the tab. I have a whole ton of reasons why you should give me another chance.”

I don’t want to smile, but the woman’s energy is infectious. “Is that a fact?”

“It is, and I think you like me, too. Even if I had a minor breakdown and ruined our weekend.”

“You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yes, I did. Let’s call a spade a spade. I buggered it utterly. Even though that was never my intention. But, after I cried for a couple of days, I realized that I have to move forward. I want to move forward. So, I am. I packed up all his clothing and donated it last week.”

I realize this is an enormous step for her. She’s being proactive, releasing some of the life she shared with Nigel. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be to let go, to realize that the grief will always win, no matter how thick the barricade around your heart. “How did that feel?”

“You will not play the role of my therapist. I have one of those now, too.”

A small chuckle escapes my lips. I’m proud of her. “Big steps, Calli.”

“I’ve been stagnant for almost two years. It’s time to get moving. I have so much to live for. I’d like you to be a gigantic part of it.”

I want to believe. God, I want to believe her.

But, the last time I believed her, it was my heart that got trampled. This time, I’m treading lightly. Taking things slow. And my rules? Those rules I was ready to pitch out the window? They’re back in force, at least for the present.

“So, what do you say? Dinner at seven?”

I shake my head, clearing away the multiple trains of thought parading around my brain. “I can’t see you tomorrow. Sorry.”

“The day after?” Her voice is tentative.

“This week is no good.”

Her sigh echoes in my ear. “Right. I should have realized that a man like you doesn’t wait long for willing and able suitors. Any woman would be lucky to have you. I know I was.”

“Wait, wait, wait. I’m not dating anyone. I’m at a medical conference in Manhattan.”

“Oh,” she breathes, her husky laugh cutting through any last cords holding back my affection. “I was so scared I lost my chance.”

“I told you I would give you time. The last week and a half sucked, but I knew it was what you needed.”

“What I need is you. Can I see you when you get back?”

“Sure. I’ll be home on Friday.”

“Can’t wait. Miss you, Keegan.”

“Miss you, too.”

“Don’t have too much fun. I remember your tale of drunken karaoke.”

“I’ll behave.”

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