Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83084 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Do you need help?” Simon asked, looking almost eager to join me.
“No. Enjoy your parents. I’ve got it.”
Unlike most dining rooms, mine was located on the opposite side of the house from the kitchen. I never understood the reasoning for that layout, but on this particular day, I was grateful that Simon’s mother thought I was out of earshot.
I’d forgotten my phone on the windowsill in the dining room, so when I went back to retrieve it, I heard them speaking argumentatively. I stopped and hid behind the wall to listen.
“That little boy is going to get very attached to you, Simon. It’s dangerous.”
“It’s already happened, Mother. I love him.”
“How can you possibly love some other man’s child?”
“I consider him mine.”
There was a long pause before Eleanor spoke again. “Bridget is lovely. Honestly. I’m actually pleasantly surprised. But you need to realize that she’s going to trap you into this situation forever. You’ll never get out, Simon. Never.”
“Trap me? I’d love to be trapped here. You can’t trap someone somewhere if it’s the only place in the world they want to be.”
His mother continued to argue with him while his father stayed silent.
“You can’t be serious, son. You’ll never be able to return to England. You’ll be stuck here for the rest of your life, away from your family and from the people who love you.”
“The people who love me are here.
Simon slapped his cloth napkin down on the table. It sounded like he was going to get up from the table, so I ran on my tiptoes to the kitchen.
Leaning against the counter, I completely lost it. So overcome with sadness about how his parents really felt, I broke out into tears.
I needed another drink, but more than that, I needed to check on Bridget and get the hell away from my parents for a few minutes.
Bridget was layering the ingredients of her fruit and chocolate trifle when I noticed her shoulders were shaking.
Rushing toward her, I asked, “My God, are you crying?”
Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “How come you never told me how your parents feel? I thought they were coming to meet me, not to warn you against me!”
“You heard them from all the way in here?”
“I’d gone back to get my phone to double-check the recipe. I was listening behind the wall. I heard everything.”
That gutted me.
I pulled her into my chest. “I’m so sorry you had to hear that rubbish. It doesn’t matter how they feel, especially now. I love you so much, Bridget, more than anything in this world. I haven’t wanted to burden you with their foolishness, because it doesn’t bloody matter.”
She stepped back to look me in the eyes. “It matters to me. I want them to like me, to understand how much I love you. They’ve judged me before I’ve even had a chance to prove any of that to them.”
“Don’t you dare go getting upset right now. I’m going to fix this. They can’t come into our house and disrespect you like this, even if they think you can’t hear them.” I knew what I had to do. “You trust me?”
“Why? What are you going to do, Simon?”
“We’re gonna face this right now. I’m going to make them understand once and for all. Take my hand. We’re going to put an end to any doubts that they have.”
She did as I said as we walked back together to the dining room.
My parents both turned in their seats to face us. My heart was pounding as I prepared to lay it all out on the line.
“Mum and Dad, with all due respect, I need you to understand something very clearly. Bridget is here right now because we don’t have any secrets in this house. She’s aware of your apprehension about us. If you love me, if you’ve ever loved me, you will stop questioning my life choices. You think you know what’s going on, think you know Bridget, but you don’t really know anything. I clearly haven’t explained things thoroughly enough to you. The fact that you have this fear that she’s going to trap me is ironic and terribly painful. Want to know why? I have spent the past several months doing everything in my power to knock her up. You have no idea how badly I want—as you call it—to be trapped. You also have no idea what it’s like having to watch the person you love more than anyone in this world go through something as painful as infertility, injecting herself day in and day out with potentially harmful drugs. Why? For me. All for me. Because she knows I want a baby, not with just anyone, but only with her. And that was the only way to get it. She’s gone through hell for me.”
“My God,” my mother muttered.