"Maybe he didn't want kids."
"He did before."
"It's different when it's an abstract discussion."
"How do you know?" I ask.
"Grace had a scare."
Oh.
"She wasn't pregnant. But if she was… I wanted that. So fucking badly. I always knew I did. But when she told me it was an actual possibility, something flipped in my brain. I forget how terrified I was of my kid becoming an alcoholic. I forget how terrified I was of becoming my mom. I just—"
"You just knew?"
"Yeah."
He just knew that he wanted to be a father. "Do you still want that?"
"One day."
But he's doing this for me. He's not getting that. God, I want him to have that.
"Your ex is a doctor."
"A resident. He's still in training."
"And, he's what, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-seven."
"A twenty-seven-year-old who has no free time."
It makes sense when he says it that way. But—"People do it."
"When they want it badly."
"So he didn't want me," I say.
"Or he didn't want kids."
Maybe. It's just… so hard to believe.
"He's miserable."
"How do you know?"
His expression gets sheepish. "I check on his social media."
"Maybe it's a different Phillip Nguyen."
"Who posts pictures with you?"
Okay, that seems unlikely.
I take another bite. Chew. Swallow.
It helps.