Chapter 6
That evening, Mom began unpacking it.
My nightgown was there, along with two shirts and the slippers I had bought for the hospital. Garrett had thrown everything over a folder left in the bottom of the bag.
Mom lifted it while looking for the charger.
“Is this hospital paperwork?”
“I don't think so.”
A receipt slipped from the folder.
She picked it up, read the top, and stopped.
“What?”
“Would you like me to give this to you?”
I said yes.
It was a delivery invoice for a crib and matching dresser.
The customer was Paige Mercer.
The address was Apartment 214 at Pine Grove.
A signature confirmed delivery had been accepted by Garrett Bell.
I knew the date.
Six days earlier, I had sat alone in the final birth-preparation session, watching other couples practice with a doll.
Garrett had sent a picture of his laptop.
Still stuck. Sorry.
Mom had helped me assemble Lucy's secondhand dresser that night. One drawer didn't slide properly, and we worked on it until nearly ten.
The new dresser on Paige's invoice had cost more than our crib.
I turned the receipt over.
A folded ultrasound image was clipped to another sheet in the folder. Paige's name appeared along its edge.
Eighteen weeks.
I stared at the pale shape in the middle.
Another baby.
Another mother rubbing her stomach, choosing a name, counting down to a future Garrett had helped her imagine.
For a moment, I felt sorry for her.
Then I remembered his message.
I called him.
“Who accepted the nursery delivery at Paige's apartment?”
Silence.
“I have the invoice.”
“Those papers were private.”
“They were in the bag you brought me.”
He breathed heavily into the phone.
“Are you going through all my things now?”
“Is the baby yours?”
“Yes.”
This time, he said it without trying to make the question unreasonable.
I closed my eyes.
“How long?”
“Can I come back?”
“How long, Garrett?”
“It happened. I didn't plan any of this.”
“You ordered a crib.”
He said my name.
“You ordered a dresser. You arranged a delivery. You signed for it.”
Mom stood beside the bed, one hand resting on the rail.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“I didn't want to put stress on you before the birth.”
I looked at Lucy, asleep with her mouth slightly open.
He had kept the truth from me and called it protection. Now I was expected to be grateful that he had waited until the worst possible moment.