Time away from Max dragged on. I missed him so much. It had been a month since we’d seen each other–there were a few texts here and there. I came close, many times, to driving over to the home we shared and giving in to my need to be close to him. But I stood strong even though it hurt like hell.
We’d made up a story about why I had to work from home. The pregnancy and all. It would have been odd otherwise.
I was seven months along and our baby was growing steadily. My regular checkups showed that he was healthy as a horse, so at least I didn’t have any concerns on that front. Max called me one afternoon while I was at home. I was stunned when his name appeared on the screen.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Angel. How are you?”
“I’m okay, Thanks.”
“Can we have dinner together? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Uhm. Sure. When?”
“Tonight. At home. Okay?”
“Okay. Can I bring anything?”
“No, I’ve got it covered. Let’s say 6ish.”
“Alright. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye.”
My stomach was a mess the entire afternoon. I called Josie and told her I wouldn’t be there when she got home from work. We’d slipped into a comfy routine of eating dinner together. It was like it used to be–before I ‘dumped her’ for Max.
“What does he want to talk about?” she asked me.
“I have no idea. He sounded serious, so I guess it must be about the case.”
“Let’s hope it’s good news.”
“From your lips to God’s ears.”
I left Josie’s place shortly after 5:30 and took a slow drive to the house. Max’s car was in the driveway when I pulled up. He stood at the door when he heard my car’s engine, and opened my door when I parked.
“You look beautiful, Angel. Looks like our son has been upgraded to a penthouse.”
“Yeah, he’s growing like crazy.”
“Let’s go inside.”
Being in the house again felt odd. It looked the same, but the feel was different. I felt like a stranger in the home that Max and I shared. It saddened me greatly.
“Are you okay?” Max asked me as if he’d picked up on my pain.
“I haven’t been okay since this mess started, Max.”
“I know. I’m sorry. Please, come sit down. Can I offer you a drink?”
“No thanks. There isn’t much room left in here,” I said pointing to my stomach. “If I drink too much, I can’t eat. What did you get? It smells good.”
“I cooked.”
“I see. So, the news must be really bad then.”
“Haha.”