Chapter 2 - The Child Alexander Almost Lost
Forty-eight hours later, I stood outside a narrow townhouse in Savannah.
No convoy.
No armed entourage.
Only Marcus waited beside the car.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“No.”
“That’s unusually self-aware.”
I glanced at him.
He straightened.
“Sorry.”
I knocked.
Isabel opened the door and stared at me.
“No.”
“Good morning.”
“No.”
“I flew nine hundred miles.”
“That sounds expensive.”
She started closing the door.
I put my palm against it.
“I came alone.”
Her eyes moved toward the black sedan.
“Marcus is alone?”
“He doesn't count.”
From the sidewalk, Marcus called, “I heard that.”
Isabel almost smiled.
Almost.
Then her expression hardened again.
“What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“We've talked.”
“I've spoken. You’ve spoken. I'm not sure either of us listened.”
That made her pause.
Finally she stepped aside.
“Ten minutes.”
The townhouse was nothing like our penthouse.
No marble.
No staff.
No armed guards.
A half-built crib stood near the living room wall.
Tiny folded blankets rested on the sofa.
I stopped.
Isabel watched me.
“Alexander?”
I walked toward the crib.
A small stuffed elephant sat inside.
My fingers touched its ear.
“You built this?”
“Mostly.”
“Who helped?”
“The instruction manual.”
“You hate instruction manuals.”
“I've grown.”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
She had.
Without me.
That realization was painful.
“Doctor?”
“What?”
“Are you healthy?”
“We're healthy.”
We.
One word.
Everything inside me shifted.
“Can I come to the next appointment?”
“No.”
“Isabel.”
“You don't get six months back because you bought a plane ticket.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She folded her arms.
“Then tell me why you're here.”
I could have said the baby.
That would have been easy.
Instead I said the truth.
“You.”
Her expression changed slightly.
“I came because of you.”
“Don't.”
“I destroyed our marriage.”
“Alexander—”
“I did.”
Silence.
“I let my father turn our bedroom into a boardroom. I made every doctor's appointment feel like an annual performance review.”
She looked away.
“I blamed you for something neither of us controlled.”
“You did.”
“And when you needed your husband, I behaved like your employer.”
“Worse.”
I nodded.
“Worse.”
She studied me.
“You practiced this speech?”
“All night.”
“That explains why it's almost human.”
I laughed.
A real laugh.
She looked surprised.
Then suddenly her face tightened.
Her hand went to her stomach.
I moved instantly.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Isabel.”
“The baby kicked.”
I froze.
Her eyes dropped to my hand.
I had reached toward her without thinking.
I stopped inches away.
“May I?”
For several seconds, she didn't answer.
Then she took my wrist.
Placed my palm against her stomach.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
Then—
A tiny movement pressed against my hand.
My entire body went still.
Another kick.
I stared at Isabel.
Her eyes were wet.
“So that's…”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Hello.”
She laughed quietly through her tears.
I kept my hand there.
“Does the baby do that often?”
“When someone talks too much.”
“Definitely mine.”
The moment lasted five seconds.
Then Isabel stepped back.
Reality returned.
“You need to leave.”
I nodded.
At the door, she spoke again.
“Alexander?”
I turned.
“You asked whether it's a boy.”
I waited.
“It isn't.”
Something unexpectedly warm spread through my chest.
“A girl?”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
Isabel watched me carefully.
“You're not disappointed?”
“Disappointed?”
“You wanted a son.”
I thought about the man I had been.
Then looked toward the half-built crib.
“I wanted what my father taught me to want.”
I met her eyes.
“I want my daughter.”
Her expression softened.
“And her mother?”
I didn't hesitate.
May you like
“More than I deserve.”
---
