Eli moved forward. “Claire—”
“I’m okay.”
I was not okay.
But I had discovered in labor that okay was not always required. Sometimes continuing was enough.
I pushed myself higher against the pillows. Pain flashed low through my body. My hands shook. My hair was plastered to my face. I had not slept. I had not eaten. I had blood under one fingernail from clutching the bedrail.
Still, when I looked at Ryan, I felt taller than he had ever allowed me to be.
“Listen carefully,” I said. “You left me while I was in active labor because you decided a meeting mattered more than my life and our baby’s. You turned off your phone. You arrived after she was born. Then you accused me of cheating because the man you mock for being quiet did what you refused to do.”
Ryan’s lips parted.
I kept going.
