Hearty Appetite

It’s been four months since Liam and I lost Sugar. Aside from his mom, we told no one else, despite Liam’s insistence we tell my family. I don’t feel it’s necessary to upset them for something they can’t change. I remember Zara helping her best friend Quinn through a miscarriage between the births of her two sons, and it took a toll on Zara emotionally. It would be selfish of me to throw that on her again.

Each day I’m improving, and while it still hurts just as much, I have learned to process my grief. Liam’s mom, Dola, has been a great support, and I’m happy not to throw my emotional recovery square on Liam’s shoulders. I thought Dola would hate me for losing her grandchild, but she’s reassured me repeatedly I did nothing to cause a miscarriage. Maybe if she says it seventy-three more times, I’ll believe her. Probably not.

The weekend is here, and after Liam had to take a trip to Chicago this week, I’m excited for him to come home. I’ve spent the last few hours cooking to celebrate his arrival. His dad has gone to pick him up from the airport because he knows how anxious the traffic makes me. I really am lucky to have wonderful in-laws. They make up for the horrific biological family I was dealt.

I have twenty minutes to get dinner on the table so it will be ready for Liam. I invited his parents, but they insisted we have a romantic evening alone. Obviously, they aren’t aware of my level of romance. Liam’s lucky I brushed my hair and put on a clean t-shirt.

I place the pasta, salad, and roasted chicken at the head of the table so Liam and I can sit in the seats opposite each other. Looking at each other while we stuff our faces seems to be the most romantic arrangement.

When the front door opens, I dash to make sure it is, in fact, my husband walking in and not an ill-intentioned stranger. I’ve had enough criminal interactions in my life to this point. I hope I can have a few more years without adding more to my tally.

A gorgeous, smiling face beams at me from the door with a bag over his shoulder and a carryon suitcase in tow.

I offer no greeting in the form of words; instead, offering a hug and a knee-buckling hello kiss.

“I missed you so much,” Liam says as he drops his bag. “It smells good in here.”

“I missed you too. I made dinner. Just basic pasta, salad, and I bought you a chicken.”

He raises a brow as one corner of his mouth curls upward. “A chicken? Is it dead or alive?”

“Liam. I would have preferred it alive, but I can’t trust you to keep it that way. Get comfortable, and we can eat when you’re ready.”

Moments later, Liam has returned to our open-concept kitchen wearing track pants and the same t-shirt of his I wore to sleep each night he was gone. He is the most beautiful human I’ve ever met, inside and out, and I can’t believe he picked me to be his wife.

“Are you ready to eat?” he asks, disrupting my appreciation.

“I’m starving, actually.”

He scoops me into his arms to carry me, but he stumbles as he picks me up, setting me back on my feet. Without acknowledging what just happened, he grabs my hand and leads me to the table. “This looks great.”

“I don’t know how it tastes, but I hope it’s edible.”

He kisses my temple before taking his seat, and I take mine. I load up my plate with so much pasta, I haven’t left room for salad. I’ll eat that later, like a refined Italian—even if I’m an Irish-Canadian. Liam gives me a judgemental look, but I dismiss it and dig into my meal. I slaved away for this; I’ve earned it.

Our dinner conversation is uneventful, with Liam telling me about some client acquisitions and mergers, which I’ll never understand, but I gather were successful. That means he’ll have to go back to Chicago in the future to handle some more things, but then he shouldn’t need to travel for a while. That’s a relief because it’s hard when he leaves. I hate being without him and I hate being in our house alone.

Sometimes Isla and her German shepherd Bond come to stay with me for a few nights, so Zach and Zara can have time for themselves. Isla is seventeen now, but because of her social anxiety, she doesn’t go out much. As a result, aside from me, she only has one friend, Rory—unless we’re counting Bond, which Isla definitely would. She’s still doing better than me, because she and Liam are my only friends.

I pile up my plate with a second helping of pasta before eating an entire plateful of salad as well. I’m still hungry, but I’m too embarrassed to load any more food on my plate. Liam already gave me a side-eye when I was looking at the chicken. I’ve been a vegetarian for ten years, but I consider devouring a chicken breast to satisfy my hunger. At least I have dessert to look forward to. I picked up a cheesecake at a bakery on my way home from work because my baking skills leave a lot to be desired. I can’t wait to dig into that next.

“You’re hungry tonight.” Liam smirks. He’s probably aware he’s treading in dangerous territory by commenting on my appetite.

“Yeah, I guess I was. I burned a lot of calories cooking. Let me go get dessert.”

“Don’t you want to digest a little, first?”

I stand in front of my chair, staring at him. Wait? For dessert? That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I can’t hide my disappointment, but this is supposed to be my way of celebrating his homecoming. “Oh. Sure. I guess. If that’s what you want.”

“Let’s go sit in the family room and watch a movie.”

I doubt there are any movies that are as appealing as cheesecake, but I concede.

Liam lies on our navy-blue sectional sofa and pats the space in front of him.

“I can’t fit there. I’ll fall on the floor.”

“I’d never let you fall. Squeeze in. I’ll hang on tight.”

I believe he wouldn’t let me fall. Aside from falling in love with him, he never has. “Fine. But if you drop me, you’re sleeping in the guest room.”

He chuckles, knowing I would never make him sleep elsewhere. Especially when he’s just returned home after four nights away. “Never.”

I settle on the couch, allowing Liam to wrap his arm around my torso as he turns on a new action flick, no doubt with loads of car chases and shootouts. Action movies are my preference over romance these days. I don’t want to watch couples falling in love and having children, growing into a happy family. It doesn’t always happen that way in real life. Not that the bald guy with an eye-patch trying to take over a nuclear submarine and a rag-tag crew of misfits banding together to save the world is realistic, but it’s entertaining.

As we’re nearing the second half of the movie, my stomach growls, protesting the forced cheesecake delay. I rub my stomach, as if that’s going to satiate the beast. I’ve got a food baby.

Baby.

When did I get my period last?

I pull Liam’s arm off me and hop up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just have to pee. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Rather than going to the powder room closest to our family room, I walk through our kitchen and living room into our ensuite, where I stashed the pregnancy tests I bought in bulk. I can’t get the packaging open on account of my shaking hands. I tear into it with my teeth; I haven’t peed on it yet, so it’s okay.

The instructions say to wait three minutes, so I try to keep my mind occupied and avoid looking, but when I’m not staring at the potential for new life inside me, I only think of our Sugar.

The experience between last time and now is remarkably different. Last time, the idea scared me, but I was happy. This time those familiar pink lines cause me to sit on the edge of the bathtub and cry.

A gentle knock at the door moments later startles me. “Chels, are you okay in there?”

I rush to hide the pregnancy test, not wanting Liam to know the result. “My stomach is upset, but I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Can I get you anything? Maybe you ate too much.”

Fine line, Liam. That’s a very fine line you are treading.

I splash some water on my face to hide my tears, give myself a final look in the mirror and exit the bathroom, trying my best to pretend I haven’t just had my world rocked.

“I guess this means I’m not getting lucky tonight?” He flashes me a cheeky grin, trying to pass his comment off as a joke, but I know he’s serious.

“That’s not likely, I’m afraid.” Crawling into bed, I pull the covers up to my neck and try to think about anything other than the fear regarding those two pink lines I’m experiencing. I feel like a monster for being terrified, but I can’t bring myself to get excited, or become attached. What if I lose this baby too? What if my body just isn’t cut out for having babies?

Liam crawls in the bed behind me, abandoning our movie. He knows me too well for me to hide the fact something is wrong, but he doesn’t press the issue. He sweeps my hair behind my ear, places a gentle kiss on my cheek, and holds me tight like I’m his precious little spoon. I can’t bring myself to break his heart again.