Chapter 11

Audrey

I 'm back home in my haven, my place of warmth and comfort. My safe space with three locks on the door.

Nothing seems out of order; everything is just the way I left it. I'd missed my plush, soft sofa with one too many throw pillows and cozy blankets. My cluttered coffee table with its out-of-date magazines that I keep going back to when I need some fashion or beauty advice. My electric tea kettle and tea collection that I keep in a designated cupboard. My warm bed with its memory foam mattress … not that Jason's isn't superior in every possible aspect, but I'm used to my stuff, my place.

I'm used to being on my own, though sharing a space wasn't bad when I really think about it.

I liked spending so much time with him. He's a heavy sleeper, as am I, which made our nights tranquil and sweet when we weren't riled up and rolling in the sheets. He enjoys cooking, and when he's in the kitchen, there's barely any room for Rita or me to help out, though Lily let it slip once that he had been cooking a lot more since I moved in.

And he's just so gosh darn sweet. Jason likes to take care of me, of my every need, but not in a way that suffocates me or makes me feel incapable of taking care of myself. He's the kind of man who adds value to a woman's life, not one who inhibits it.

"Is it wrong that I already miss him?" I mutter to myself as I unpack my bags and fill the laundry basket for tomorrow's household chores. It's close to midnight, but I am restless. Thankfully, we stopped by the supermarket before he brought me home, so there's plenty of food for me to stuff my sad face with.

Sadness. I can't lie to myself about it. Leaving his place felt like a separation, and I've got a feeling he senses something's off. I spotted a tinge of worry in his hazel eyes that wasn't there before.

Sitting at the kitchen counter in front of a bowl filled with ham and mushroom pasta, a layer of grated parmesan heavily sprinkled on top, I try to put my thoughts in order. My emotions are an endless blur of anxiety and anger, aching love and fear.

It was too good to be true.

The more I mentally list the things I love about him, the harder it is for me to pull away. I'm struggling to find anything I dislike where Jason is concerned, so that's not a feasible strategy for me. I guess I'll have to simply pull the plug and be done with it. I'll leave the apartment before having a real estate agent list it at a good price, hopefully above market value.

Until then, I'll rent something smaller elsewhere.

"I could change cities again," I surmise, delving into a generous slice of tiramisu cake. I wash it down with cold, sparkling lemon water. Pretty sure it's the baby's preference—I'm not a fan of lemons myself.

Reality starts to sink in. Who will want to hire a pregnant lady? Post-natal care, the time I'll be away from the job on maternity leave, doctor's appointments throughout … it's a hard pill to swallow, but it's the truth.

I could try to hide the pregnancy for as long as possible, at least until I'm hired. But it would put me at risk later down the line, saying goodbye to any form of severance package.

Besides, my moral code won't allow me to deceive anybody like that.

I love my job here in Chicago. Rosa Parks Elementary may not be the elite preschool like Willow Academy in New York, but it's lovely—warm and cozy, kind and welcoming—and all of my kids feel included, seen, and valued.

I love every minute that I get to spend with them, even the less pleasant moments when I have to double-check if Patrick's trying to eat glue again or if Sammy is still pulling Lacey's pigtails. They're just kids. They are genuinely easy to handle once you understand that every emotion that they experience is simply too powerful and hard to handle for their still-developing brains.

I'll miss every one of them.

I could leave after the baby is born , I tell myself, while at the same time wondering if I could fit a second slice of tiramisu into tonight's lonely midnight snack.

The baby. Our baby. Jason's and mine. Even though I know it's cruel to leave him out of the loop and unaware of his child, I can't risk tethering him to me with my family snooping around trying to find me.

But moving to another city with a newborn is a challenge on its own on top of everything else. It's a logistical nightmare. I'd need to get a job as soon as I land. Who will I trust to take care of my child while I'm working? Wherever I decide to go, I won't know anybody there. Shaking my head slowly, I forsake the second slice and start washing the dishes.

It's nice to feel the hot water pouring over my hands. It relaxes my nerves while I struggle to declutter my thoughts.

Every idea crossing through my mind stems from a reaction based on fear. Running away. Keeping more secrets. Not telling Jason about the baby. I would say it's unlike me, but it wouldn't be the first time I'd be running away.

A car horn's honk blares somewhere out in the street, breaking the silence of the night. I go over to the window and look out. Two cars almost kissed at the intersection; it looks like the traffic lights aren't working. The streetlamps are on, their amber glow casting long shadows against the buildings. A couple of midnight joggers bolt by. A taxi. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that should rile me up.

Yet the knot in the pit of my stomach persists.