Ansel groaned. “The two of you remind me of Rosa and I when we first started.”
My eyebrows shot up. “What? In what way?”
“It took us both a while to figure out we spoke two entirely different languages. I thought I was telling her I loved her when I held her or kissed her hand or stared at her for hours on end.”
Rosa chuckled. “Meanwhile, I spilled every one of my very intense emotions onto Ansel. I wrote him letters and poems and talked his ear off.”
“She threatened to leave me. She accused me of not loving her.” He barked a laugh. “Do you believe that?Menot loveher? My Rosa? The most perfect woman I’ve ever known? I didn’t fucking get it.”
“I don’t get it either,” I said. I couldn’t picture the two of them not meshing on any topic. They were different in a lot of ways, but they were magic together.
“I needed words, Mickey, and Ansel spoke in affection.”
What they were saying finally dawned on me. Ansel showed his love through the physical, while Rosa showed hers with words. And sheneededher words reciprocated.
I was like Ansel. One-hundred percent exactly like him. If I’d been standing, I would have been knocked on my ass. Mo had been giving me what I needed—gestures, touching, cuddling, sex—but I’d been failing him. The grand gesture I’d planned would have shown him I wanted to be with him forever, but he didn’t need grand.
“I’ve messed up,” I murmured more to myself than them.
“Just because you messed up doesn’t mean he didn’t,” Ansel said.
Rosa shushed him again. “It’ll be okay, honey. No matter what happens, it’ll be okay.”
I smoothed my palm over my mountain of a belly. It would be okay.Iwould be okay. And I hopedwewould be okay.
“Thank you, guys. I feel a lot better from just hearing your voices. I need to go get my husband now.”
Once I hung up with Rosa and Ansel, I took a calming breath. Nothing would be accomplished by flying out of this apartment impetuously. Moses was most likely still angry and hurt. And so was I. But that didn’t change that I wanted to be with him. To stay with him. To really give this marriage a fair shake.
I’d been making plans all week—plans he knew nothing about. But maybe if he could see what I’d been doing, he’d understand. I forwarded him the texts I’d been sending to his closest friends and family. The surprise would be ruined, but that was okay. He’d see I wasn’t hiding anymore.
Then, I logged onto my neglected Instagram account and spoke in Mo’s language—the public words he’d been asking for, but I hadn’t listened to. This could possibly become a shitshow, but it could also be worth everything.
All done, I poked my big belly. “I’m going to get your daddy, Simone. Mommy made him sad, and he made Mommy sad too, but we’re going to do better. By the time you get here, we’ll have worked out the kinks so you can give us new ones.” She kicked me right in the bladder, so I poked her again. “I think you’re going to be trouble, and I seriously can’t wait for it. If you’re anything like your daddy, you’re going to be wonderful too. You’ll bat those big brown eyes at me, and I’ll let you eat cookies in bed and skip your homework. Use your powers for good, baby girl.”
After we had our talk, I levered myself off the couch and went into the bedroom to retrieve the rings I’d bought from Zeke. Mo would be wearing his by the end of the day, even if I had to stuff it on his cold, dead hand.
As I walked back to the living room, the front door opened, then gently clicked shut, a reverse of a couple hours before.
“Mo?” I called.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.”
I hid my hand behind my back, meeting him on the threshold of the living room. His deep brown eyes were rimmed with red, and they searched mine.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He cupped the back of his neck. “Didn’t go to Murray’s. I walked around the block ten times until my phone started vibrating so hard, I couldn’t ignore it.”
I rubbed my lips together, wanting to go to him, but knowing we needed to talk.Heneeded to talk. I could have curled up in his arms and everything would have been right in my world.
“I’m glad you came back.”
His head dropped. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me too. I should have shredded those papers the second I forgave you. I hate that you saw them. I never want to hurt you, Mo. I’d called my attorney after that terrible ultrasound and had a new set of papers sent to me. That was done from a place of powerlessness and pain. I don’t feel that way anymore, and I didn’t keep them as a threat to hold over you.”
“Why’d you keep them, Mic? Why’d you bring them here?”