“Chase, talk to me.” I look back at Georgia, who’s frowning. I consider lying to her, telling her I want to stay here, but the truth is, I would love to get a bigger place, buy a home we can call ours. The problem is, I can’t afford anything like that—even with me up for a promotion at work, I still wouldn’t be able to afford a down payment on a house where she’s talking about.
But she can. Because my wife is wealthy as fuck. And despite her financial advisor suggesting I sign a prenuptial agreement, she refused, saying she won’t go into a marriage with the idea that it will one day end. We haven’t discussed money, both of us too busy focusing on Hazel and being newlyweds, but it’s something we should’ve talked about.
“I only have a little bit of money in savings,” I admit, making her frown. “And I know you’re rich and can afford a million houses, but I want us to be equals in this marriage. I don’t want to buy a house I can’t afford.”
Her face contorts into confusion. “So, because you can’t afford it, we can’t buy a house? How does that make us equals?” She crosses her arms over her chest. “The last time I checked, we’re in this marriage together, and what’s mine is yours and vice-versa.”
I swallow thickly, having no response.
“You’re right,” I admit after a beat. “My words were based on male chauvinistic pride. I’m sorry.”
Georgia nods. “I don’t care about the cost of the house. I just want a place to call our own. With a backyard where our kids can run around and play. Maybe a porch swing where we can sit and grow old together. We have the money to live where we want and I want our children to grow up in a nice, safe neighborhood.”
She’s saying everything I’ve always dreamed about and I can’t allow my pride to keep us from having what we both want. “I want all of that too.” I tug on the bottom of her shirt, forcing her closer to me. “Let’s do it. Let’s buy a house.”
“Thank you!” She squeals. “I can’t wait!”
We spend the rest of the day playing with Hazel, and once she goes to bed, we check out listings for homes in the neighborhoods where her family lives. We find a few and email the agents, asking to set up a time to see them.
As we’re turning off everything, preparing to go to bed, I get a text from an unknown number that has me stopping in my place.
Unknown: Hey Chase, it’s Victoria. This is my new number. Can we please talk?
Can we talk? Has this bitch lost her mind?
Me: There’s nothing to talk about. Don’t contact me again. You’re getting blocked.
I put her name into my phone, so I have her number then block her.
“Everything okay?” Georgia lays her head on my chest and drops her arm over my torso like she does every night.
“Yeah,” I tell her robotically. Then I change my mind and go with the truth. “Actually, no.” She sits up, concerned. “Victoria texted, wanting to talk. I blocked her.”
Georgia’s mouth turns down. “Chase… maybe you should hear her out. Before everything you guys were friends.”
Fuck, can she be any more innocent and naïve?
“We’re not those people anymore and her choosing to abandon our daughter proved that. I want nothing to do with her.”
I can tell by the look on her face she doesn’t agree, but she still nods and lies back down. “If you change your mind, I’ll support your decision,” she says, making me fall even more in love with her.
“Chase… Chase, wake up.” I wrench my eyes open and glance around. It’s dark in the room, so it’s late… or early. “Chase.”
My vision clears and I see Georgia sitting up in bed with tears in her eyes. I immediately shoot up on alert. “What’s wrong? Is Hazel okay?”
“Hazel’s okay,” she says softly, “but when I woke up to use the bathroom, I was bleeding.” Bleeding… Fuck. “I think I’m losing the baby.”
“It could be anything,” I assure her, knowing nothing about how pregnancy works but trying to remain positive. “Let’s get you to the hospital.” I turn on my phone and call Charlie to come over and watch Hazel.
Georgia’s quiet the entire drive and stays that way once we’re checked in with the emergency room. Since she’s only a few weeks along, it’s not considered top priority, so we have to wait our turn. The entire time, I pray to God she’s okay, that bleeding is normal. But when she flinches and I ask her what’s wrong, and she says she has bad cramping, I know no amount of praying is going to save our baby.
Four hours later, we’re told Georgia is in the middle of losing our baby. She was only six weeks along and it’s apparently common for miscarriages to occur before the twelve-week mark. The doctor discharges her, warning her the next few days she’ll bleed a lot, her body naturally releasing the fetus, and suggests she follow up with her doctor.