A Quiet Goodbye

The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor, cutting the call.

I stared at my belly, hand resting over it. Tears were already there.

No wonder Elroy Lousteau never cared when I asked him to feel the kicks.

He knew. He always knew. This baby was never supposed to make it.

He walked out of the bathroom, grinning. "Baby being a handful again? Should I give 'em a talk?"

I looked up, face soaked, but the words wouldn't come.

Then he rushed over, all fake panic and hugs.

"What's wrong, babe? Nervous? I'll be right there the whole time, I promise."

His grip sent a chill down my spine.

How could he fake it so easily? Kill our baby, keep his side chick happy, then still play the doting husband like nothing happened?

My mouth tasted like metal. I touched my belly, testing him.

"Elroy... why can't I feel the baby move?"

He knelt, pressed his ear to me. I caught that flash of annoyance in his eyes before he smoothed it over.

"The baby's fine—super active. You're just stressed, babe. I'm right here."

I almost brought up the call—

Then a knock.

"Mr. Lousteau, the doctor needs to speak with you about the surgery."

Elroy gave me one last look. "I'll be right back."

He always made a show of talking medical stuff in front of me, like it'd calm me down. But now—

At the door, Elroy's assistant dropped his voice. "She keeps asking for you. I'm worried she'll get emotional and mess up the pregnancy."

My chest went tight. I followed, slow.

He didn't even bother closing the door all the way—just shoved it half shut and walked in.

Brigitte Tillon was on the bed. The maid's daughter.

Elroy pressed his face to her belly, smiling.

"See? Baby's doing great. Stop faking sick just to get my attention, alright? You'll make me worry."

He tapped her forehead, all soft and sweet.

Brigitte giggled, grabbed his hand, kissed it.

"I just missed you. You spend all your time with her—can't I have a little more?"

He leaned in and kissed her, slow and deep. "There, there."