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“I’ll be in touch, Wellington. By the way, I suggest answering the next phone call from your asshole father.” He sniffs. “I have a feeling things will become a lot clearer.”
“I do love you!” she shouts, severing my words as she whips around to face me, her chest heaving. “I love you. But not with my whole heart, because my heart is no longer whole. I love you with the chewed-up, tattered pieces of it. The shredded remains that have somehow kept me alive for this long. And you don’t deserve that, Gabe. You don’t deserve to be loved with scraps, with the bloody leftovers. That’s not fair.”
“No, I swear it, I promise. Let me take a test and you’ll see that I’m pregnant. I was before. I was…before you took us,” I confessed, and it was finally out there; it was finally real. And it was too late.
