The Sick Wife - Lost Loretta (e reader pdf best .TXT) 📗

was my mother’s dying wish. I said I would take care of myself and be healthy going forward. I said I would love and honor my beautiful young wife. But I just can’t seem to hold on, lately. What would my mother say if she could see me now? Getting drunk and getting into fights on the streets? Cheating on my wife and hurting her. Sitting here and smoking, after I just saw how cigarettes caused Yvette to nearly lose her life.

With my other hand, I text Milla a long letter about my life, hoping she will understand. I don’t even know what I want her to understand, but I just can’t let go.

I hope she won’t let go, either.

Chapter 31

One morning I wake up and I feel perfectly okay. Optimistic. Good.

Milla has forgiven me and we’ve gotten close again. I stopped sleeping in the same bed with Yvette, even when she has nightmares. I made it clear to her that I’m not okay with us right now. I made an effort to get my work life back on track. I stopped smoking and started trying to get healthy again by going for a run every morning.

But the real reason I’m going for a run is to call Milla for a few minutes each day. Just to try to keep us alive. I start to feel healthy and normal and good, and happy. It seems like everything is starting to settle, and I even start looking into ways to get into the United States to surprise Milla. I want us to really try to be together for real, and start a life together. I am tired of being away from her.

Yvette has her parents here, and she’s growing stronger by the day. She doesn’t need me anymore. Milla needs me, and I need her—and that’s that.

I am brushing my teeth and getting ready to go for a run when I hear a scream.

I drop the toothbrush into the sink and run over to Yvette’s room. I find her on the floor clutching her stomach.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, going to her side.

“The pain,” she says, clenching her jaw. “Oh god. I think something’s wrong. Can you call the doctor?”

“Doctor or ambulance?” I ask her.

She hesitates. “I don’t know. Can you help me stand?”

I help her to her feet, and she limps over to the bed. “Let’s try the doctor for now. If he can’t get here soon enough, or if it gets worse, I’ll go to the hospital.”

“What do you think it is?” I ask her.

“I have no idea. It feels a bit like one time when I had a burst ovarian cyst—maybe it’s nothing serious,” she says anxiously.

“Okay, I’ll call the doctor.”

By the time the doctor arrives, Evie’s pain is a lot less, but we let him check her out anyway. I stand by the door as he takes some blood and checks her vitals, and asks her some questions. She says she’s been feeling really weak and nauseous.

I watch as he runs some simple tests.

“Well, I’ve got some good news,” the doctor says. “The source of your pain is pretty easy to identify: you’re pregnant.”

“I’m what?” Evie asks, looking over at me. “But that’s not possible… we’ve been careful.”

My stomach sinks into the floor.

“Accidents happen,” the doctor says, packing up his equipment. “Considering everything you’ve been through lately, it will be a high-risk pregnancy. So you should get an ultrasound at the earliest convenience. We need to get you properly checked out at the hospital.”

“Oh my god,” Evie says, putting her face in her hands.

I know how she feels about kids. She never wanted them. I swallow, moving over to sit beside her on the bed, and I take her hand. “Thank you, Doctor. We’ll get that ultrasound soon.”

“I’ll let you two process the news. Otherwise, she looks perfectly healthy,” the doctor says. “We need to run some more tests, of course, but from everything I see… she should be capable of carrying to term.”

“Oh my god,” Evie says again. Her face is drained of color and she looks like she has just learned that she’s about to be sent to prison for life.

The doctor says goodbye and excuses himself.

I feel sick and afraid, and I know that it’s all out of my hands now. “Evie,” I say gently. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, putting a hand on her stomach with a shocked look on her face. “I know… I know how much you want this.”

“I only want it if you also want it,” I tell her, trying to be kind. “You don’t have to feel pressure to do anything for me.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” she says brokenly, as tears stream down her face. “I mean, I did just survive a life or death situation… and now this. It’s kind of like a blessing or a miracle. A gift. Maybe it’s what we need to keep us together. Maybe it will fix us.”

I feel something break inside me. “You sure, Evie? You feel good about it? You want this?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she says softly, but she’s crying. “I mean, it’s horrible timing for this to happen when I can barely walk... but I just want us to be happy again. Maybe this is something to be happy about.”

“Okay,” I say softly, rubbing her back. “Whatever you decide, I support you completely. Are you going to quit smoking then?”

“I’ll try my best,” she answers me. Her facial expression looks distant. She looks like she is already behind bars, and all the life has been sucked out of her.

“Evie… I just want you to be healthy and happy,” I tell her. I feel some kind of deep ache starting in my chest. This is not how it’s supposed to feel. It’s supposed to be the best thing in the world. We’re supposed to be hugging and laughing and crying from joy. Not fear.

“Are you happy about it, Gabe?” she