I nod and somehow mutter, “Thank you.”

When I hear the front door close, I turn back and face the crib. My eyes fill with tears, and not for myself this time. Not for the baby.

I cry for Ryle. Because even though he’s responsible for the situation he’s in, I know how sad he is about it. And when you love someone, seeing them sad also makes you sad.

Neither of us brought up our separation or even a chance at reconciliation. We didn’t even talk about what’s going to happen when this baby is born in ten weeks.

I’m just not ready for that conversation yet and the least he can do for me right now is show me patience.

The patience he still owes me from all the times he had none.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I finish rinsing the paint out of the brushes and then walk back to the nursery to admire the mural. I spent most of yesterday and all of today painting it.

It’s been two weeks since Ryle came over and put the crib together. Now that the mural is finished and I brought in a few plants from the store, I feel like the nursery is finally complete. I look around and feel a little sad that no one is here to admire the room with me. I grab my phone and text Allysa.

Me: Mural is finished! You should come down and look at it.

Allysa: I’m not home. Running errands. I’ll come look at it tomorrow, though.

I frown and decide to text my mother. She has to work tomorrow, but I know she’ll be just as excited to see it as I was to finish it.

Me: Feel like driving into town tonight? The nursery is finally finished.

Mom: Can’t. Recital night at school. I’ll be here late. I can’t wait to see it! I’ll come by tomorrow!

I sit down in the rocking chair and know that I shouldn’t do what I’m about to do, but I do it anyway.

Me: The nursery is finished. Do you want to come look at it?

Every nerve in my body springs to life as soon as I hit Send. I stare at my phone until his reply comes through.

Ryle: Of course. On my way down now.

I immediately stand up and begin making last minute touches. I fluff the pillows on the loveseat and straighten one of the wall hangings. I’m barely to the front door when I hear his knock. I open it and dammit. He’s wearing scrubs.

I step aside as he makes his way in.

“Allysa said you were painting a mural?”

I follow him down the hallway toward the nursery.

“It’s taken two days to finish,” I tell him. “My body feels like I ran a marathon and all I did was walk up and down a step ladder a few times.”

He glances over his shoulder and I can see the concern in his expression. He’s worried that I was here doing it all on my own. He shouldn’t worry. I’ve got this.