“Well, when a man and woman love each other…”
He holds up a hand. “No, I mean how can you be pregnant?”
The accusation knocks me off balance and I shift on the cushion.
“No birth control is one hundred percent effective.”
“I know. But you’re on the pill, right?”
I nod. “I may have missed a pill or two.” Now is not the time to confess I
accidentally missed them on purpose.
Logan swallows his drink in one gulp and stands to fix another. Seconds
later, he slumps into a chair beside the sofa and drops his head. “We agreed we
wouldn’t have kids.”
I slowly leave my space and kneel in front of him. “You know how much I
wanted a baby. This child will make our family complete.”
Massaging his massive hand, I try to get him to understand. He pulls away and
shakes his head. I try to bridge the distance, but when I stroke his arm, he stiffens
as though even my touch is repulsive.
“How long?” he whispers.
“What?”
Logan glares at me and then his eyes reflect more pain than anger.
“How far along are you?”
I place one hand over my belly; praying he doesn’t suggest an abortion.
“Twelve weeks.”
Logan’s eyes narrow as he does a mental calculation. The drink spills and
a pungent smell fills the air. My head swims to the same rhythm as my queasy
stomach. “How could you?” The words echo around the room as my heart races.
What if he leaves? What if every man I love leaves?
“This is not a bad thing,” I whisper. “Imagine if it’s a little boy. We can name
him Logan Charles Rutherford, the Third. Carry on your father’s name.”
Logan jumps up causing me to lose my balance and fall into the puddle of
alcohol. “You think I would give your baby my father’s name?” He spits the
words like bullets, each one finding its intended target. My heart.
“How could you?” he repeats and walks out the door.
How does a woman choose etween the husband she loves and the child he
never wanted?
www.michelledrayford.com