Page 46 of The Space He Left
"Good." Sam's posture relaxed slightly, the hard edge in his voice softening just a fraction. "Because I'd really rather not lose my best friend. But I will if I have to. For Harper's sake."
He stood up and, to my surprise, pulled me into a rough, quick hug. "Now, tell me what you are doing to make this right."
We sat down at the small hotel table, two friends trying to salvage what I'd destroyed. Sam didn't offer advice or easy solutions. He just listened as I talked through my mistakes, my regrets, my desperate hope that somehow I could become worthy of forgiveness.
It wasn't absolution. It wasn't the easy friendship we used to have. But it was a start. And it was more than I deserved.
Chapter 16
Harper
Emma's nursery had become my sanctuary.?
In the days since we'd come home from the hospital, I'd spent hours in the rocking chair, holding my daughter and trying to process the wreckage of my marriage. The room was exactly as Jack and I had planned it – soft yellow walls, white furniture, the mobile we'd chosen together spinning gently above the crib. But now it felt like a monument to promises broken and dreams deferred.
Emma stirred in my arms, making the soft noises that meant she was waking up. At four days old, she was already showing signs of her father's stubborn personality – she slept when she wanted to and ate on her schedule, completely indifferent to anyone else's plans.
"Just like your daddy," I whispered to her. "Always doing exactly what you want, when you want to do it."
But unlike her father, Emma's needs were simple and honest. When she was hungry, she cried. When she was tired, she slept. When she needed comfort, she sought it withoutmanipulation or lies. There was something refreshing about such straightforward communication after weeks of Jack's evasions and excuses.
"Harper, sweetheart?" My mother's voice came from the doorway. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired," I said, which was true but not the whole truth. I was tired, but I was also angry, sad, relieved, and confused all at once. The emotional whiplash of childbirth, betrayal, and new motherhood was exhausting.
Mom entered the nursery carrying a cup of tea and wearing the concerned expression she'd maintained since arriving. She and Dad had driven up the moment Sam called them about Emma's birth, and they'd been a steady presence ever since – cooking meals, handling visitors, creating a buffer between me and the outside world.
"Jack's parents are downstairs," she said gently. "They brought groceries and wanted to see Emma."
I nodded. Jack's parents had arrived the same day as my parents, their faces showing a mixture of joy over their granddaughter and shame over their son's behavior. They'd been nothing but supportive, but I could see the pain in their eyes every time Jack's name was mentioned.
"They're welcome to visit Emma anytime," I said. "This isn't their fault."
"They know that. But they also know they raised the man who made these choices." Mom sat on the edge of the changing table. "They're as disappointed in Jack as we are."
The unified disappointment of both sets of parents was both comforting and heartbreaking. It meant I wasn't crazy for feeling betrayed, but it also meant that Jack had damaged relationships far beyond just our marriage.
"Has he tried to contact you?" Mom asked.
"No." I adjusted Emma in my arms, my gaze drifting to the window. "I, uh… I had a lawyer send him a letter."
My mother’s expression was carefully neutral. "Your father mentioned it."
I felt a flush of shame crawl up my neck. "I was so angry, Mom. So hurt. When I was lying in that hospital bed, all I could think about was how he wasn't there, and I just… I wanted to build a wall so high he could never hurt me again."
"So you did," she said softly.
"Yes," I whispered. "But the moment the lawyer messaged me to say the letter had been delivered, I wanted to take it all back. Using Emma, restricting his access to her… it was wrong. I knew it was wrong even as I was doing it."
Mom put her arm around me. "You were protecting her, sweetheart. From unreliability. From a father who might disappoint her. That's a mother's instinct." She paused, her voice softening further. "But she also needs her father."
I nodded, pulling a tissue from the box on the changing table. "I know he is. But I still... I can't trust him not to run off. Not yet. I can't risk him letting Emma down. And now I'm trapped," I admitted, the confession feeling like a weight lifting. "How do you take back a legal threat? How do you un-send a letter like that without looking weak, or like you're already caving? I'm not ready to talk to him. I'm not ready to forgive him. But I hate that I'm keeping him from his daughter because of a decision I made in a moment of pure rage."
Mom was quiet for a moment, stroking Emma’s fine hair. "Well," she said gently. "What if there was a way," Mom began gently, "for them to have more time, without you having to be vulnerable? Without you having to break down your own boundaries right now?"
I looked at her, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I could have a quiet word with Carol," she said, referring to Jack's mother. "Grandma to grandma. Suggest that when they're babysitting, there's no reason Jack couldn't happen to stop by.' You wouldn't have to be there. You wouldn't even have to know the specifics. It would be a safe space for Emma and Jack to build their bond, without putting any pressure on you."
