Page 163 of The Baby Bargain
"What else can I believe?"
"You really think you're that important?"
Huh?
"I… I have to go."
What?
"I'm sorry." She moves to the couch. Grabs her backpack. "I, um…"
"Ariel."
"I think, um… I need to think. I'll text you."
"We're supposed to do this every day this week."
"Yeah. Um… I… I'll call you."
What?
She looks at me like she wants to come closer.
But she doesn't.
She turns and walks out the door.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ariel
Dear Chase,
I really like having sex with you. It's fantastic. And, despite your clear signs of depression and your genetic predisposition toward alcoholism, I still want you to father my child.
Maybe I should be more concerned about those two risk factors. But something tells me they aren't coincidental. They're probably related.
Would it be wrong if I talked to your mom and your brothers? Got the 411 on their conditions?
How about if I asked someone in the psych department for a referral?
I know you're in love with your misery, but you don't have to marinate in it.
That's kind of over the line. Even I know that. But, hey, I can't really handle talking to you anymore.
I can't say "Chase, don't be ridiculous. You can't save people. They have to save themselves. They have to want to get better. You're being ridiculous and self-involved."
I want to say that, because it's true, but I can't.
Because I'm just as bad.
Even now, composing this note in my head as I drive back to my house (which is taking forever, of course. There's traffic on Lincoln. Ocean might have been better. Honestly, I should walk next time. It's not even a mile. I'm sure I can get here faster on foot. But now I'm the one getting distracted).
Even now, composing this note in my head, my heart is screaming "Ariel, you can save him."
I want to turn the car around, drive back to your apartment, drag you into bed.
I want to promise that you'll finally get over Grace.
