“I can’t believe you just said that.” I glare at Ryan, whose eyes are dancing with laughter.
“You’re a natural,” he says, nodding toward our son, whose eyes are fluttering closed, his lips barely hanging on. I remove him from my breast and lift him back up to burp again.
“I read a lot.” I shrug. “I wanted to make sure I knew what I was doing. I had no idea how much is involved in having a baby. And they grow and change so fast. The book about their first year is bigger than the damn Bible.” I laugh, but Ryan’s face falls.
“What?”
“I won’t be here,” he says, his voice full of sorrow. “I have to go back in two weeks. I’m going to miss everything.” His eyes shine. “Fuck.” His head drops into his hands.
“Hey.” I move RJ to my other arm and take Ryan’s hand in mine. “Ryan, look at me.”
He lifts his head, and my heart squeezes at how devastated he looks.
“I’ll send you pictures and videos. I have this calendar my mom got me where I can write down what he does every day. I’ll type it up for you. I promise.” I can’t imagine having to leave RJ for several months. I’m dreading putting him down to go back to my room.
“He’s not going to know who I am.”
“Of course he will. We can video you talking to him and I’ll play it for him, and we can video chat, so you can see him.”
“You’d do that?” he asks.
“Of course.” I link our fingers together. “I know I was scared. I still am. But I was wrong. I promise, Ry, I’ll make sure RJ knows who his daddy is, and once you come home, you can pick up where I left off.”
“And what about us? Will we pick up where we left off?”
My thoughts go to our time at the beach house. The hugging and kissing and making love. The laughing and talking and connecting. I want that so much, but…
“I can’t,” I whisper. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I drop my eyes in shame. “My heart just couldn’t take it if something happened to you. I’m sorry.”
Ryan unlinks our hands and lifts my chin so I’m looking at him. “I’m going to let you have your way for now because I get it. What happened with your husband… But when I come home…”
I open my mouth to argue, but he shakes his head. “Uh-uh. I will come home. And when I do, we’re going to discuss you becoming mine.”
I try to interrupt again, but he places two fingers to my lips. “The thing is, Micaela, I know what it feels like to be with you, to be in you. To be calmed by you. And I’m not going to stop until I can have you again, this time for good.”
The next few days pass in a blur. Because RJ was admitted to the NICU, he has to stay there. After the first night, I no longer need a wheelchair, and every two hours Ryan and I walk from my room to see our son. Our parents visit, going back and forth between seeing RJ and us. They bring Ryan food, while I’m stuck eating the hospital crap. Ryan never leaves my side, except to take a shower in my room. On discharge day, my parents show up with RJ’s car seat, and after filling out the necessary paperwork and showing the nurse the car seat is installed properly in Ryan’s truck, we take our son home—well, to my parents’ house, which is also my house, since I live with them, and Ryan doesn’t have his own place. Because he’s never home, he hasn’t bothered to buy a home, instead staying in the guesthouse at his parents’ place when he’s in town.
Not wanting to miss a moment with his son before he has to leave, he asks my parents if it’s okay to stay with me. Since RJ is little, he’s sleeping in my room with me. I have a crib, bassinet, and changing table set up for him. My parents offered to turn a guest room into a nursery for him, but I’m not planning on staying here that long. I still have my dreams and goals I want to achieve, even if I’ve had to take a slight detour.
“You graduated,” Ryan says, looking at the diploma, as I step out of my en-suite bathroom. The moment we got home, my family attacked RJ. My siblings argued over who would get to hold him, and I used that time to jump in the shower. There’s nothing like showering in your own house, in your own shower. I glance over and see RJ is sleeping soundly in his bassinet, swaddled like the most adorable little burrito.
“Just my AS. I still have two years left. Finding out I was pregnant had me altering my plans, again. But I made sure to get my AS before he was born, and I’m still planning to finish what I started.”