He must have seen my expression because he reached for my hand.
"Don't get upset. It's only five days."
"Four days before surgery."
"Okay, four days."
"And what if something happens?"
"What could happen?"
I didn't answer.
Because I knew exactly what could happen.
Pregnancy could change in an instant.
Especially at thirty-six weeks.
Especially with twins.
But Trevor didn't seem to understand that.
He told me I was worrying too much.
He told me my mother was nearby.
He told me the hospital was only a short drive away.
Then he kissed me and said:
"I'll bring you something nice from the beach."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I said:
"Bring yourself back."
He smiled.
"I will."
The Morning He Left
The next morning, Trevor loaded his bags into the car.
I stood on the porch watching him.
My mother hadn't arrived yet.
I had barely slept.
I kept hoping he would change his mind.
Maybe he would look at me, look at my stomach, look at the date on the calendar, and realize how ridiculous the whole thing was.
He didn't.
He put his suitcase in the trunk.
Then he walked over and kissed me.
"Five days."
"Four days until surgery."
"Right."
"Please be reachable."
"Of course."
He hugged me.
Then he walked toward the car.
I don't know whether it was the stress, the pregnancy, or the emotional exhaustion, but suddenly I felt a cramp.
A sharp one.
I grabbed the porch railing.
"Trevor."
He turned.
"You okay?"
"I—"
Another wave of pain hit.
I bent slightly.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Trevor looked concerned.
But only for a moment.
"You sure you're okay?"
"I think so."
"Call your mom if you need anything."
Then he got into the car.
I watched him reverse out of the driveway.
He waved.
I raised my hand.
And as his car disappeared around the corner, I realized I was crying.
Not because I was afraid of the surgery.