Ugly Love: Chapter 18

Six years earlier I rub her back reassuringly. “Two more minutes,” I tell her.

She nods but keeps her face pressed into the palms of her hands. She doesn’t want to look.

I don’t tell her we don’t actually need the two minutes. I don’t tell her the results are already there, clear as day.

I don’t tell Rachel she’s pregnant yet, because she still has two minutes left of hope.

I continue to rub her back. When the timer goes off, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t turn to look at the results. I drop my head to the side of hers until my mouth is close to her ear.

“I’m so sorry, Rachel,” I whisper. “I’m so, so sorry.”

She bursts into tears.

My heart is crushed at the sound.

This is my fault. This is all my fault.

The only thing I can think to do now is figure out how to rectify it.

I turn her toward me and wrap my arms around her. “I’ll tell them you don’t feel well and you can’t go to school today. I want you to stay here until I get back.”

She doesn’t even nod. She continues to cry, so I pick her up and carry her to the bed. I go back to the bathroom and package up the test, then hide it underneath the sink in the very back. I rush to my room and change clothes.

I leave.

I’m gone most of the day.

I’m rectifying.

When I finally pull back up our driveway, I still have almost an hour before my father and Lisa are due home. I grab everything from my front seat and rush inside to check on her. I left my phone behind in my rush this morning, so I haven’t had a way to check on her at all, and I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t killing me.

I go inside.

I go to her door.

I attempt to turn it, but it’s locked.

I knock.

“Rachel?”

I hear movement. Something crashes against the door, and I jump back. When I realize what’s happened, I step forward again and bang on the door. “Rachel!” I yell, frantic. “Open the door!”

I hear her crying. “Go away!”

I take two steps back, then lunge forward and shove my shoulder against the door as hard as I can. The door flies open, and I rush inside. Rachel is curled up against the headboard, crying into her hands. I reach her.

She pushes me away.

I walk back to her.

She slaps me, then scoots off the bed. She stands up, shoving me back, pushing her palms against my chest. “I hate you!” she screams through her tears. I grab her hands and try to calm her down. It makes her angrier. “Just leave!” she yells. “If you don’t want anything to do with me, just leave!”

Her words stun me.

“Rachel, stop,” I plead. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her tears come harder now. She screams at me. She says I left her. I put her in bed this morning, and I left her because I couldn’t handle it. I was disappointed in her.

I love you, Rachel. More than I love myself.

“Baby, no,” I tell her, pulling her to me. “I didn’t leave you. I told you I was coming back.”

I hate that she didn’t understand why I left today.

I hate that I didn’t explain it to her.

I walk her back to the bed, and I position her against the headboard. “Rachel,” I say, touching her tear-stained cheek, “I’m not disappointed in you,” I tell her. “Not in the least. I’m disappointed in myself. Which is why I want to do everything I possibly can to turn this around for you. For us. That’s what I’ve been doing today. I’ve been trying to find a way to make this better for us.”

I stand up and grab the folders, then spread them out on the bed. I show her everything. I show her the brochures for family housing I picked up from campus. I show her the forms we need to fill out for free campus child care. I show her the financial aid brochures and the night classes and the online course review and the academic adviser list and how it will all coordinate with my flight-class schedule. All the possibilities are spread out before her, and I want her to see that even though we didn’t want this, even though we didn’t plan for this . . . we can do this.

“I know it’ll be a lot harder with a baby, Rachel. I know that. But it’s not impossible.”

She stares down at everything I’ve laid out before her. I watch her in silence until her shoulders begin to shake and she covers her mouth with her hand. She meets my gaze as huge tears spill out of her eyes. She crawls forward and throws her arms around my neck.

She tells me she loves me.

You love me so much, Rachel.

She kisses me over and over.

“We’ve got this, Miles,” she whispers against my ear.

I nod and hug her back. “We’ve got this, Rachel.”