“You don’t see me telling you that you can’t parent this child because you’re a girl and the baby may be a boy,” Leo counters. Okay, maybe that argument has a tiny bit of weight, but every child needs their mother.
“I’ll admit that when I met you, you checked all my boxes, but race wasn’t part of my list. I was looking for a woman who is smart, ambitious, loves her family, and doesn’t take herself and the world too seriously. You being sexy as hell didn’t hurt either.” Leo’s list should sound like a compliment, but his voice is getting heated. “I thought you had it all, but you let people get in your head, and it’s keeping you from being with me.”
When a man talks this much about his emotions, I know he’s serious, and Leo’s still talking.
“I just think we need time to focus on the baby, because focusing on us as a couple doesn’t seem to be working. I’ve done what I can, and I can’t seem to convince you to build a life with me. So going forward, I’ll go with you to all your appointments, and we can grab dinner after. Other than that, right now, I need some space.” Leo punctuates the word space with a vigorous head shake. I’ve known Leo for eight months now, and I always thought he was the softy between the two of us. He practically came undone when he ripped open the Jamaica flag T-shirt and matching onesie for the baby my dad gave him at Christmas. I couldn’t bear to tell him that wearing matching outfits with your child is at the top of the Nina Morgan Clarke no-no handbook. But now here we are, and he’s drawn a hard line in the relationship sand.
“Leo, real talk here. Are we broken up, or are you just hangry from working out?”
“I don’t know what we are now, Nina. Other than about to be parents.” Hearing my dad’s footsteps coming down the hall, Leo picks up my hands and places my palms on his cheeks, giving each of my wrists a kiss that feels a bit too much like goodbye.
“Hey, Mr. Morgan, I was just about to leave. Hope you weren’t hiding out in your room on our account.” Leo stands up, awkwardly offering a handshake to my dad. We look at Leo funny. Since the two of us started dating, Leo’s always called my father Fitzroy.
“You two all right in here?” my dad asks cautiously, looking at me. “Haven’t seen you around here as much, Leo.”
“Yep, yep, all good. I’m buried under a stack of cases that I’m still catching up on after our trip to Omaha, so I need to head back to the office.”
I haven’t taken a breath since my dad stepped into the living room, and my heart starts palpitating. Leo’s really leaving.
“Well, hold up, Nina has some coconut drops for you if you’re working late these nights. You sure everything’s all right?” Again, with a question for Leo, but a beatdown stare for me.
“Oh, I’m fine. Along with all this work I’ve been training for a multi-day race that’s coming up at the beginning of April. Been riding pretty intensely with my bike club, so I’ll eat whatever you’re willing to give me,” Leo assures, following Fitzroy into the kitchen and leaving me more alone than I’ve felt in five years.
What just happened didn’t really happen, did it? Leo’s gone from wanting to marry me, to wanting time away from me, and it’s all my doing.
“I’m perfectly oversnacked now, but I’ll miss your dinners, Nina,” Leo whispers, grabbing his jacket off the back of the banister, careful not to crumble the dessert.
“You don’t need to miss my dinners, Leo, you really don’t.” My voice cracks, panic charging the air. “Let me walk you to the door,” I say, moving to get up, hoping between the couch and the door I can miraculously come up with something to say that will undo what Leo’s obviously been pondering all month in the bike saddle.
Leo leans over and gives me a real goodbye kiss this time. “No, you stay, Nina. Staying put seems to be your comfort zone.”
“Hey, Nina,” Winn calls, skipping, two at a time, up the front steps of Royal-Hawkins on an unusually cold February morning. The last of Winn’s tan from a Christmas spent at the Great Barrier Reef is still noticeable against his white collared shirt. “I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since December.” It takes every ounce of restraint not to ask him if he’s been hiding from me following his Courtney Dunn board decision. I would be hiding from me.
“Who . . . are you . . . heading into school to see today?” I ask in fragments, my attention focused on shaking hands and offering good mornings to all the students brushing by me on Monday’s rush.
“I’m coming to see you. Did you not get my email last night?” Winn asks, a bit taken aback, which is fair. I have a pretty consistent track record of checking work email every Sunday evening so there are no surprises waiting for me when I get to school on Monday. Turns out what I needed to watch out for was Leo’s Sunday night surprise. I slept with a cold washcloth across my face hoping for an eight-hour miracle cure for swollen eyes and a raging headache.
Usually, I have a text from Leo by 8:00 a.m. on Mondays reminding me not to take an obstinate child hostage or steal anyone’s fifteen-dollar acai bowl from their lunch box, but today, nothing. I tap over to emails, yep, there it is. An email from Winn at 6:42 p.m. yesterday. Right around the time Prince Charming ran out of charm. Or maybe I’m the one who ran out of charm, so Leo just ran out.
“Oh, yes, here it is.”
FROM: Winn Hawkins
DATE: January 31
SUBJECT: Quick chat post drop-off tomorrow morning
TO: Nina Morgan Clarke
Nina,
I’m on drop-off duty tomorrow, Gemma’s at a fasting retreat in Napa. You would not believe how much it costs for Gemma to not eat for a week holed up in a remote resort. We have some board business to discuss prior to Tuesday night’s meeting so I’ll swing by your office around 8:00.
Best,
Winn
“Okay, let’s head in, and I’ll ask Mimi to push back anything I have for the next forty-five minutes. Would you like some coffee and a pastry?”
“Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. I’ve been eating double the past few days since Gemma’s off eating nothing.”
“You and me both,” I say, rubbing my belly. Winn smiles but then quickly averts his eyes as if looking at a woman’s pregnant belly is grounds for litigious action. “I’m going to make some tea, so make yourself comfortable in my office. I’ll be back in a minute.” I don’t really drink much tea, but I need a moment to figure out if it’s worth it to confront Winn on the topic of Courtney Dunn. I’m tired to the bone today.
“Nina, Winn in there with you yet?” Jared yells as he hustles by me on his way to class. He pivots and jogs backward down the hall to catch my answer.
“How do you know Winn’s meeting me this morning?” I ask, now more interested in the conversation I have coming up than I was a minute ago.
“Winn’s my man,” Jared lobs back, giving me a salute before continuing on his way. I’m puzzled by Jared’s commentary, so it’ll be interesting to hear what Winn has to say.
“I just saw Jared in the hall, he seemed to know you’re here,” I say, taking a seat opposite Winn.