“It’s natural to be scared, Bryan. Babies are new, they’re helpless, and they’re totally reliant on you. Take it a day at a time,” Jack said.
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.”
“All right. Let’s give these hardwood floors some time to settle and set,” he said.
“Sounds like a plan.”
I was in a daze of mixed emotions when I left the house. The project was done, and in a perfect world, I would have gone to the hardware store, cut her a set of keys, and given them to her over a fancy dinner tonight. I would’ve taken her out, presented her with the keys, and then come home and made sweet love to her as we dreamed of moving into our new place. But the whole point of this new place was to leave the old life we had behind and to leave all that drama in the past and leave all the hatred and anger behind us.
But it was still looming over our heads.
I walked into the house and tried to find Hailey. Her car was in the driveway, but she was nowhere to be found. I looked around downstairs before I headed to our room and then peeked into the bathroom in case she was taking a bath.
But again, she was nowhere to be found.
“Hailey? Where are you?”
I heard a light sigh come from down the hallway, and I headed for the room.
It was the room we had converted into a pseudo-art studio for Hailey, but the room wasn’t worth half a damn. It was small, it had poor lighting, and it had no storage space for her to stick anything. She had stuck a little ratty chair from her studio apartment in there so she had somewhere to sit, but that meant she was holding her canvas whenever she wanted to paint.
I couldn’t wait for her to see her new art studio at our new home.
“Knock, knock,” I said.
“Hey there,” Hailey said. “Where did you pop off to this morning?”
It was the tone of her voice that told me whatever she was hiding was still looming over her. She had her laptop in her lap as she scrolled through something on her screen, but her gaze was distant. Whatever she was working on, she wasn’t focused. She had retreated back into her mind and was mulling over whatever it was she was keeping from me.
Why couldn’t we get past this part of her personality? What was I going to have to do to get her to open up to me? To lean on me? To trust me with her bad as well as her good?
“Checking up on a worksite. You weren’t in bed when I woke up, so I assumed you had gone off to work today,” I said.
“Nope. Just sitting in here and going over some applications,” she said.
“Anyone jumping out at you?” I asked.
“A few. Four, to be exact. I’m flipping through their applications right now,” she said.
“Need some help?” I asked.
“If you don’t mind, I actually could.”
I was glad to be of any service. The only talking we did currently was me asking her what was wrong and her telling me she was only ‘stressed.’ She had closed herself off again to me completely, and it was draining me emotionally. So any conversation where she invoked my help for something gave me hope that she would open up to me eventually.
Hopefully, at least.
“All right. Shoot. First applicant,” I said.
“Twenty-nine years old, Masters in Art History from California State. Favorite type of art is sculpture, dabbles in watercolors, worked at the on-campus art museum all through her graduate studies, and no prior work history other than that.”
“Okay. Next applicant,” I said.
“Twenty-five years old, just graduated with a Bachelor’s in Art Education from California Tech. Favorite type of art is hyperrealism, dabbles in natural sculpture—”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Remember that museum we went to, and you called the outdoor sculptures a ‘glorified junkyard’?”
“Ah. Those. Okay,” I said.
“Dabbles in natural sculpture as well as woodworking and has a prior work history of two grocery store chains and some volunteer work at a donation-only children’s museum in upstate California.”
“Wow. Nice. Next one?” I asked.
“Thirty-three years old and currently pursuing a Master’s in Fine Arts for sculpting. Has a work history a mile long at places that don’t mean anything except for one.”
“Which one’s that?” I asked.
“This person got their bachelor’s degree in Paris and worked at The Louvre.”
“Wow,” I said.
“Wow, indeed. Last one. Thirty-one years old with a bachelor’s degree in music and a minor in art education. Volunteered the last three summers at an art camp for disabled children and spent what looks to be their winter breaks working at The Metropolitan Art museum as a ticket-taker. Has no art specialty, but enjoys helping others express themselves through the fine arts.”
“Sounds like someone who fits in with your motive for starting your art gallery in the first place,” I said.
“You think?” she asked.
“That the one you’re leaning toward?” I asked.
“Honestly? Yes. But I wanted your opinion as well. All of the applicants are wonderful and very qualified, and I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision.”
“That doesn’t sound like you. You’re always so confident in the decisions you make,” I said.
“I know. I’m just—”
I watched tears quickly spring to Hailey’s eyes before they dripped down her cheek. She didn’t even get a chance to bring her hand up to wipe them away before they started barreling down her cheeks. The onset of emotion was so abrupt and so quick that it caught me off guard, but the moment she sniffled, I dropped to my knees. I took her laptop off her lap, wrapped my hands around hers, and then brought them to my lips to kiss.
“Hailey, please talk to me,” I said. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I should’ve done this earlier. I’m so tired, and I’m so stressed and overrun with so much.”
She was trying to stifle her sobs as they hiccupped her chest.
“Come here,” I said. “Come here, beautiful.”
I pulled her against me and stood her up. I walked her down the hallway and back into our bedroom before I laid us down in bed. I threaded my arms around her and pulled her close to me, leaning in so I could kiss away her tears. Her body was trembling as the tears continued to come in droves, and worry clenched my heart.
This was so much more than just stress.
“The baby is almost here, and I’m only now hiring someone. I’ll have to train them all the way until my due date, and I can hardly stand on my feet as it is.”
“Is that what’s had you so worried lately?” I asked. “Finding an assistant or someone to help you out?”
“Bryan,” she said, groaning.
“No, now look. You have the penchant for keeping things from me because you think you need to save me from something. And maybe that comes from you not being able to save John, but we’re partners, Hailey. I’m your husband. The father of your child. I’m the one who holds your hands, kisses your lips, and tells you I love you every single night we lie down together. Now, enough is enough.”
She pulled her hands away from me, but she didn’t make any effort to back away.
“It’s a lot of things, Bryan,” she said breathlessly. “So many things.”
“Then tell me about those things. That’s what I’m here for,” I said.
“Hiring this new person and training them. Being a new mother soon. My parents still don’t talk with me much, and things with your mother aren’t getting any better. Michael said he was going to stop by today so we could talk about Europe but canceled this morning, and I know your mother had something to do with that. I feel isolated from the family that’s supposed to be surrounding this child. I’m already failing this child, and it’s not even here yet.”
I didn’t actually expect her to open up to me like that. If there was one thing Hailey was, it was a fortress. But her hormones must be getting in the way so badly that it was crumbling even her own walls she threw up sometimes.
And for once, I was thankful for those hormones that had been turned on me so many times over the past few months.
“And as far as ‘saving you’ goes, you listen to me. You’ve been through enough in your life, and all I want you to be is happy no matter what it takes. You’ve lost so much and endured so much pain.”
She grimaced as she swallowed like she was choking down some disgusting flavor.
“Hailey, take a few deep breaths. Don’t make yourself sick. I’m right here, and everything’s going to be okay,” I said.
“So you want me to express myself, but you don’t want my emotions in the process?” she asked.
“That’s not what I said. Hailey, you have to calm down. You’re making yourself sick.”
“I want to be happy with you. To be happy together. That’s it. And all I’ve ever brought into your life has been bullshit. My past with your brother and my cancer and building my art gallery partially out of your pocket.”
I watched her heave again, and I knew she was going to make herself sick.
“Here. Sit up, sweetheart. Come on,” I said.
“And I can’t help but think that I’m more trouble than it’s ... it’s ...”