All I Ask(21)

How fucked-up am I?

Then again, I didn’t have a choice because she was with Keith, trying to figure out if they had a future, and by then, I was engaged to Meghan. What choice did I have?

“Talk to me!” Meghan pushes her hands to my chest. “Please.”

I can’t. I can’t tell her because she really doesn’t want to know. It’s my job as her husband to fix myself, and she doesn’t deserve this.

I grip her wrists, holding them, focusing on the fact that it’s Meghan here. She’s my wife. She’s having our baby. “I’m just…nervous, Meg. I’m worried that I’m not going to be a good dad and husband.” Which isn’t a lie. “I’m still in school and I don’t know how I’m going to take care of you guys and still finish vet school.”

Meghan’s eyes fill with empathy and a bit of relief. “You’re going to be a great dad and you’re already a good husband.”

No, I’m not.

I’m not a good man, let alone husband.

“I’m…in my head.”

Meghan sighs and then lifts her hands to my chest, softly. “You don’t have to do that. I’m here too and I’m just as nervous as you are. I’m having a baby in five months and it’s a lot of changes all at once. There’s so much uncertainty, but we can do this, babe. We’re Derek and Meghan.”

I feel sick to my stomach because this is the first time she’s said that where I don’t believe it.

Because I’m a fucking piece of shit.

She leans up, pressing her lips to mine, and I force any thoughts of Teagan out of my head. Meghan has given me everything.

Meghan has been the one who has loved me.

She chose me and continues to do so.

Whatever is going on in my head needs to stop. It’s not real. It’s fear because everything is changing. It has to be that because otherwise I’m not the person I thought I was, and I can’t accept that.

I cup her cheeks and kiss her back. After a few seconds, I rest my head against hers and feel calmer. Meghan is my wife, and I love her. “I’m sorry.”

She lifts her head. “Just talk to me. You don’t have to do this alone, you know?”

“I know.”

“I get being scared, believe me, but when I start to feel that way, I remember that I have you and as long as we’re together, we’ll be okay.”

“You’re so much smarter than me,” I say with a smirk.

“I’m glad you learned this early.”

I pull her tighter to me, and she wraps her arms around my middle. This is what I need to focus on. Her. Us. Our family. Not a delusion I’ve conjured up with someone who doesn’t feel the same about me.

*



It’s been a long week. I’ve had a bunch of tests, one I know I bombed, but I couldn’t focus. Meghan and I are having dinner tonight, though. I promised her that once I got through my exams, we’d have more time together because I’m determined to make this work.

She is my wife, and for better or worse, I’m going to be here beside her. I just have to get it together.

“Meghan?” I call out as I open the door to our apartment.

She doesn’t answer.

I toss my bag full of textbooks onto the floor and drop my keys on the entry table. Her keys are there, so I know she’s home.

“Meg?”

Still no answer.

Weird.

I head into the living room and she’s sitting on the couch with her legs crisscrossed and head down.

“Hey,” I say as I make my way to her. “Sorry I’m late.”

When her eyes meet mine, I stop moving. They’re red and puffy, and the pain in them is clear as day.

“What’s wrong?” I’m instantly worried about her and the baby. “Are you okay?”

She shakes her head. “I’m not.”

Worry fills me, pushing me toward her. I tug her to me and hold her tight. Her body starts to shake, and my own fear grows. Something is terribly wrong and whatever it is has her devastated.

“Talk to me.”

Meghan shoves out of my embrace. She reaches behind her and pulls out a leather-bound black journal.

Time stops, because I know now what has her devastated. I’ve written in that journal the last two years—including last week.

“I want to talk.” She sniffs. “I want to talk and ask you things, but I don’t know that I need to because it’s all here.”

No longer is worry my primary emotion, now it’s mixed with anger. Those are my thoughts and feelings. I write because I have to get it out in a place that’s safe.

“In my private journal.”

“It was sitting on the counter, and I didn’t know what it was.”

A part of me doesn’t believe her because I’m never careless. I keep it in the same place so that it would never be found.

Hell, I’ve never told anyone other than Teagan I even keep a damn journal.

But now Meghan knows, and she read it. Without my permission.

“And then when you figured out what it was, you just kept reading?” I push.

A tear falls from her face, and my heart continues to pound to a beat that is so loud in my ears. I stand, needing to get some distance from her.