Chapter 2

"May God watch over you and our baby. I'll always be here for both of you."

I picked up one of the tiny socks and sat there for a long time. Then, I went back to bed and logged into the International Aid Organization portal.

Meridian Military District. Highest risk of casualties. Two-year assignment.

Under marital status, I selected "Divorced."

As I submitted the application, daylight crept through the window.

At 7 a.m., Emmett finally texted.

[IOU number 24. I promised to take her to a doctor's appointment. I need to stay with her.

[Did you take your medication? I'll find time to stop by the hospital today.

[Once I've paid off the last IOU, that's it. I'm done with her.]

I didn't reply.

There was no pregnancy left to save, no baby left to bring home, not even ashes. Nothing he did for me could ever make up for that.

I silenced my phone, set it facedown, and closed my eyes.

Emmett finally showed up three days after the procedure. He put a gift basket on the bedside table, glanced at my IV, and frowned.

"The doctor said your numbers look fine. Why do you still look like you need the ER?"

The basket was packed with things I couldn't use while recovering from a pregnancy loss.

I used to think Emmett just didn't know how to take care of anyone. And yet he knew what Melissa couldn't eat, how scared she was of pain, and exactly when she needed her medication.

He just never bothered to learn those things about me.

"Try to take it easy for a few days." He pulled up a chair and sat down. "Melissa was in a lot of pain, but she started physical therapy today.

"You just had some contractions. Stop using the baby to guilt me into things. It's not fair."

My fingers tightened around the blanket, ready to pull it back. If he bothered to look, he would see that my belly was flat.

But his phone sat on his lap, the screen showing directions to Melissa's new apartment.

I let go of the blanket. "Why did you bring all this?"

"It's to make up for not spending Valentine's Day with you and the baby." He nudged the basket toward me. "Eat up, and we'll call it even."

I stared at him. He thought a basket of fruit I couldn't even eat settled everything.

I shook my head slowly. "The baby doesn't need it anymore."

Emmett missed my meaning. He reached out to feel my forehead, but I turned away.

"What's wrong now? You think I owe you a day? Fine, I'll spend the day here."

Then the ringtone he used for Melissa cut him off.

I knew that tune too well. It interrupted our meals, my prenatal appointments, and every argument whenever she wanted him.

He answered, and I could hear her through the phone.

"Emmett, you wrote me an IOU saying you'd come whenever I called, remember? I'm getting my nails done, and I want company. Are you coming or not?"

Emmett stood up. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

After he hung up, he leaned over and tucked the blanket around my shoulders. I knew that gesture so well it hurt.

During our first year of marriage, I spent two nights in the hospital with severe gastritis. He stayed beside me the whole time, frowning and tucking me back in whenever I kicked off the covers.

One night, pain woke me at 3 a.m. He sat by the bedside lamp, looking up recipes that would be easy on my stomach. I asked about his big meeting the next day.

"The meeting can wait," he said. "You come first."

Now, he tucked me in so he could leave and take Melissa to get her nails done.

"Just a few more IOUs," he said. "Then she's out of my life for good."

I almost asked if he would stay if I asked him to, but he already had his coat in hand.

"Don't hit the emergency call button just to get me back here. I'm not falling for that again."

I pulled a brochure from under my pillow. Emmett stopped at the door.

"What are you reading? Katie, I'm talking to you."

I kept my eyes on the page. He came back, put his hand over it, and spotted the relief organization's logo on the cover.

"Meridian?" His voice dropped. "You're pregnant with my child. You're not going anywhere."

He grabbed the brochure and tore it up, then gripped my hand.

"Katie, just give me a little more time. Once the baby's here, I'll be with you every day. I'll shut down Shaw Enterprises if I have to."

His grip felt just as desperate as it did years ago, when he stood before me with red-rimmed eyes and swore he would never let me go.

My eyes stung, though I had no tears left. My fingers started to curl around his hand, ready to believe him one more time.

Then his phone rang again. He dropped my hand as if it burned him and hurried to the door.

"And stop pulling these stunts to get your way. We can talk about being fair when you stop using our marriage against me."

The door slammed, rattling the IV stand.

I picked up my phone, unpinned Emmett's contact, and turned off his custom notifications. Then I called a moving company.

"I need a pickup at the house in Palisade Heights. Pack all my clothes and books in the primary bedroom, and donate everything in the nursery to the local relief charity."

The mover hesitated. "Does Mr. Shaw need to approve this?"

Emmett picked out the paint for the nursery himself, but he never once set foot in the finished room.

"No."