Page 82 of Do It For Me

EPILOGUE: HE’S ALL I HAVE

6 months later.

The epidural didn’t work. I’m feeling every bit of this goddamn pain.

I don’t know how many hours I’ve been here. The pain doesn’t even let me think straight. You can’t stay calm when your body and heart are both in torment.

I’m all alone on one of the most important days of my life. Stefan went on his trip, even though he knew I could have the baby at any moment. I called my mother, but my father wouldn’t let her leave the house.

I have no one.

Dante said he’d be here. He promised that, when we had a baby, he’d be there with me, singing softly in my ear.

It was a lie.

And it hurts. So much.

“Honey, I know it hurts, but you must breathe,” the doctor says, standing close. “Do you want me to bring someone? It could distract you and—”

“I’ve got no one.” My voice cracks.

The doctor sighs and leaves without a word.

I press my trembling hands against my face as another contraction tears through me.

I’m alone. Completely alone. How am I supposed to take care of a baby? I don’t know anything. Sure, I can cook, but that’s nothing. I must learn how to change him, dress him, stay calm when he cries. I must be better than my father. I don’t want to be like him.

But what if it’s a girl? God, if it’s a girl, they’ll take her away. No one wants the girls.

I should have had an abortion. I shouldn’t have called my mum. That was my second mistake, because when they found me, I had the ultrasound in my hand.

I can’t give this baby anything—not a home, not a future. I don’t even know if I’ll love him the way I should.

The door creaks open. Footsteps draw closer, but I don’t look up. I can’t stop crying.

He’s here, standing beside me, but my patience is gone.

“I—I heard you,” I sob. “Talk to me. Please.”

He sighs.

“I don’t know what else to do besides telling you that you’ll be okay, sweetheart.”

My heart stutters. I stare at the man in front of me. He’s wearing a surgical gown. A mask covers his mouth, and a cap hides his hair. His brown eyes hold mine.

There are no blue eyes. No dark hair curling on his forehead. No scars etched into the skin I’ve dreamt of for months.

He either speaks like him, or I’m losing my mind.

“I thought—You sound like someone I know.”

Like someone I love…d.

“That’s a bad thing?”

Is it? Is it bad to crave the comfort of a man who bought you?

I nod, and the tears fall again, unstoppable.