Chapter 96 96
POV Kate
I don’t know how long I slept. I completely lost track of the afternoon. When I woke again, it was with such a precise sensation that for a second it felt real. A hand on my face. A slow caress along my cheek, fingers tracing my skin with enormous gentleness.
I opened my eyes with an illusion so immediate and so absurd that I felt ashamed of myself. I thought it was Elliot. I didn’t think it rationally, it made no sense—I simply wished it with such clean force that when my vision focused and I saw Andrew leaning over me, the disappointment was almost physical.
The first thing I saw were the flowers. A large, elegant bouquet, too perfect for the moment. White roses, some open, others still closed, with a soft fragrance that filled the air without overwhelming. Andrew held them in one hand while the other had been stroking me.
“Hi…” he said quietly, as if afraid of breaking something.
He smiled, tired, and set the flowers on the nightstand before leaning in to hug me carefully.
“H-Hi.”
I hadn’t realized today was already the day he’d come back.
“How are you?” he asked. “And how’s Andrew Junior?”
How did he call him?
“His name is Caleb,” I answered with a sharpness that came out on its own.
Andrew pulled back slightly, looking at me with surprise, as if he hadn’t expected resistance.
“What? You already chose the name? You should have waited for me, Kate.”
“But you weren’t here. His name is Caleb,” I repeated. “Not Andrew. Caleb. We never agreed he would carry your name.”
There was a second of silence. I saw him tense just enough for me to notice. Then he tried to recompose himself, the way he always did when something didn’t go according to his script.
“He’s not going to be called that,” he said, in that soft tone he uses when he thinks he’s being reasonable. “I don’t even know where you got that name or why you made the decision without me.”
“Maybe because you weren’t here.”
“You could have waited, Kate. This is something that belongs to both of us. And I don’t like that name for my son. I don’t want that to be his name.”
“His name is Caleb,” I said, without lowering my voice or softening anything.
He held my gaze for a few seconds. There was something uncomfortable in his eyes—not anger, but bewilderment. He had expected something else. A more docile version of me. Not this one.
In the end he sighed, as if deciding not to fight that battle right now. He leaned in again to hug me. This time I let him, more from exhaustion than from any desire to comfort him.
“I don’t want to argue,” he murmured against my hair. “I’m happy about the baby. And about you. And I know I missed this, but I feel like you’re punishing me. I understand you’re angry, but I thought you could also understand my position. Sometimes these things happen.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me better. His fingers rose to my face again, as if he needed to touch me to make sure I was still there.
“I’m sorry…” he added, quieter. “Really. I’m sorry I wasn’t with you during the birth. I suffered a lot not being there with you in that moment. God, Kate. You know it was important for both of us, not just for you. I missed something wonderful.”
The apology was correct. Almost perfect. Exactly what any woman would have wanted to hear. And yet, it did nothing to me.
I didn’t hate him for not being there. I couldn’t even say it hurt in a clean way. It was something more complicated, more tiring. A distance that had already existed before all of this and that now was simply impossible to ignore. Before, I hadn’t wanted to see it; I had wanted with all my strength to hold on to this. But now, with Caleb’s birth, I felt too tired to sustain anything at all.
“It was hard,” I said, without looking at him. “But it’s over.”
Andrew nodded, as if that answer was enough, as if he didn’t need to know more.
He leaned in then, slowly, the intention clear in the movement. I saw it coming. I felt it before it happened.
And I turned my face.
The kiss meant for my lips landed on my cheek.
There was a second of pause. Barely a second. But enough for everything to become clear.
Andrew stayed still, very close to me, not quite knowing what to do with that. Then he pulled away with a discretion that didn’t quite hide the discomfort.
“Sorry…” he murmured, “…I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
I didn’t answer. Not because I wanted to punish him, but because I didn’t know what to say without lying.
He stood up then and walked over to the crib. He leaned over it and smiled genuinely when he saw the baby. That smile was real. It wasn’t rehearsed. It wasn’t measured.
“He’s beautiful…” he said, with a shine in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time. “I’m still not convinced about the name, but I guess there’ll be time to talk about it.”
He stayed a few seconds longer looking at him, as if trying to imprint the moment. Then he adjusted the blanket with a gentleness that, in another time, would have moved me completely.
Now it only left me thinking.
He came back to the bed, dragging a chair to sit close. Not too close this time.
“I should have been here,” he said after a moment. “There’s no excuse.”
I looked at him.
“But you weren’t,” I answered simply.
He nodded, accepting it.
“It won’t happen again,” he added. He ran a hand over his face, tired, as if suddenly everything he had left undone weighed on him. “Did they take good care of you?”
“Yes.”
“Did it hurt a lot?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t want to go into details.
Andrew nodded again, swallowing hard, as if trying to process something he hadn’t lived.
“I missed too much…” he said, more to himself than to me. “I was really looking forward to that moment.”
I shifted a little in the bed, feeling the exhaustion settle back into my body.
“Do you want anything? Do you need me to do something?”
“Just… let me sleep. Wake me when Caleb does,” I said.
He frowned at hearing the name again. That was his name. Caleb.