Shit. She’s losing it.
Screw my meal and being hungry. I’ll eat it after the phone call. I shove a few more bites into my mouth and take my water over to the bed to get more comfortable. Then I dial Harper.
“Ryan, what if something’s wrong with our baby?” She’s out of breath. What on earth has she been up to?
Blurry images of my awful dream pop into my head, but I push those fuckers deep, deep down where they belong.
“You need to calm down. The odds are in our favor, but if something’s going on, we’ll deal with it. What happens will happen anyway.” I only believe that halfway because I'm also nervous. But if Harper says she’s scared for both of us, I believe her. No point in making it worse for her.
“I know. I just . . . I don’t know. I can’t turn off my brain, and all these worries keep spinning around. One what-if after the other. It’s driving me insane, but I can’t stop it. I wish there was an off button.”
There’s a slight tremble in her voice, and I wish I could be there for her in person. Pull her into my arms. Comfort her.
Maybe I should tell her I’m here now after all. I could go to her place and finally hold her again.
But it’s late, and we both need to get up early for the appointment.
“Try and get some sleep. Do that short yoga video for relaxation before bedtime you told me about. You like that, don’t you?” I wait, hoping she’ll listen to me.
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment. “That’s a really good idea. Maybe I’ll do that. Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
“Sorry I’m a bit crazy.”
“You’re not, Harper.”
“Do you . . .” Pause. “Do you regret it’s me? Like, do you wish you’d have gotten someone else pregnant instead? Someone who’s a bit older and less insane?” The words come out of her mouth at a rapid speed before she stops with a soft sniffle.
I hate it.
In fact, she couldn’t be more wrong. It hasn’t been long since we met, but I don’t think I could imagine anyone else as the mother of my child. Somehow, we . . . fit. I hope so anyway. That’s another reason I’m here. To see again. To make sure my gut is right. To make sure I’m not imagining this feeling that’s been growing behind my rib cage.
“Never. We both know this wasn’t planned. But you know me, Harper. I wouldn’t have taken you back to the hotel with me if I didn’t want to. I wanted you, and I still do. Both of you.” Maybe that was a bit more than what she asked for, but it’s out now.
It’s not the first time a comment like that has slipped through in the last few weeks. She’s become an important part of my life, and I like that. Thinking about my life before I met her suddenly seems duller and a lot less fun.
“Okay.” Sniffle. “Thanks, Ryan.”
Maybe she missed the meaning of what I blurted out, but that’s fine. I’ll make sure to tell her in person soon. “Do you feel better now?”
“Yeah. I’m going to do that yoga video and then go to bed.”
“Sounds good.” I get up and walk toward the large windows. Lights sparkle all around me, illuminating the dark city.
Tomorrow I’ll see my baby on the monitor for the first time, see it move, hear its heartbeat, and I know Harper’s not the only one with nerves.
“We’ll talk tomorrow?” She sounds calmer.
“We will. I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Night, Ryan.”
“Night, gorgeous.”
We hang up. I didn’t lie when I said I’d be waiting for her tomorrow, she just doesn’t know that it won’t be on the other side of the phone but in person.