Page 142 of Call You Mine
And I want to do the same for him.
Except I have to be fucking pregnant.
Carefully stepping out of the bath, I drain the water and throw on my robe, going through my night routine to ensure a few uninterrupted hours of sleep.
Pregnant people really don’t complain enough.
I had no idea how impossibly hard it would be to lug my own body around in these last few days of pregnancy. AndAnderson was right to tell me to stay—I would’ve just made him worry more if I was wobbling around behind him.
Baby girl has been lowering into my stomach, which has offered some relief. But overall, I feel heavy and swollen and exhausted, and the thought of this pregnancy ending is enough to make me ugly cry. These last nine months have not only been healing but have marked a time in my life I never thought would come.
A time in my life where I feel lighter and loved, where I have the family I always wished for, and I get to watch the man who loves me in ways I didn’t know possible love my daughters.
And I hate that I’m not with him right now.
Grabbing a pair of underwear and a pajama set, I sit down on the bed, taking a breather before getting dressed—simple tasks like putting clothes on have become the equivalent of an Olympic sport, and it doesn’t help that my mind won’t stop racing.
After a few grunts and expletives, I finally get into my pajamas, my exhaustion becoming too intense to ignore.
Climbing into bed, I close my eyes just to open them a few minutes later, sleep evading me even with how tired I am.
I’m reminded of how the bedroom feels so lonely without Anderson. I have to deal with an empty bed every two days when he’s at the station, but this extra day feels like it’s adding an additional month rather than just a few hours.
Reaching to my nightstand, I grab my phone, re-reading the messages he’s been sending me since he left. His hometown is at least a two-hour drive, and since it’s way past rush hour, he should be able to get there quickly.
Stopping for gas and now getting on to the highway
I’ll text you when I’m at the hospital
I love you
Love you more
When I finally fall asleep, it’s restless and segmented, filled with those thoughts you only have when you’re in that weird place between being awake and dreaming. I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping, and I instinctively reach over to the other side of the bed, expecting to find Anderson. When I don’t feel him, I open my eyes, confused until the events of the night come back to me. Checking my phone, I find it’s only been an hour since I got into bed and two more texts from Anderson. They came in no more than a minute ago—the vibration probably being what woke me up.
At the hospital
Heading to Auggie’s room now and hopefully find a doctor to fill me in on what happened
Using all my effort, I roll over onto my side and push myself up, lifting from the bed and heading straight for Anderson’s T-shirt drawer, shuffling through the drawer to find something of his to sleep in.
I don’t know why I’ve never thought to do it before.
I’m about to pull one out when I notice a little plastic bag in the back corner.
Letting curiosity get the better of me, I grab the corner sticking out, pulling out the bag, and my breath hitches.
Matchboxes?
I haven’t even thought about my collection since moving here, not with everything that’s happened in the last ten months. The bowl of matches I started collecting last year is on my desk at work, having put it there when Emerson brought it for me a few days after I moved out.
Apparently, I forgot it on the coffee table where I kept it.
Very out of character for me, until I realized how occupied my mind has been.
I have been so focused on the future—my marriage with Anderson, Georgie’s adoption, this pregnancy, this baby’s birth. I haven’t really stopped and remembered all the little moments worth collecting, the memories worth holding on to.
Opening the plastic bag, I pull out one of the matchboxes and find the Record Head logo, which I recognize from the sticker on the records Georgie has brought home from her trips to the record store with Anderson.
