Choose Us, Wade
Juniper Marlow · Completed · 8.3k Words
Introduction
The first time, three days after I gave birth to my daughter, I found out he had given away the postpartum suite my parents paid for.
He gave it to his little brother's girlfriend. She got my bed, my baby's blankets, even the soup my mom made for me.
"Please, Wade. That's our room."
"You're upset over nothing."
The second time, I found out he had emptied the college fund I'd been building for our daughter since her very first ultrasound. Every cent went to his brother's rent. I held up our four-day-old baby and begged him to put it back.
"She's a baby. She won't need college for eighteen years. My brother needs a roof now."
The third time, I came home and found his brother's girlfriend live-streaming from my baby's nursery. "Welcome to my dream nursery, besties!" My daughter's crib was out on the balcony, her little mattress soaked with rain.
I grabbed Wade's arm. "Get her out of our baby's room."
He pulled away. "Keep your voice down. She's live."
Every time, Wade chose his mother.
So I stopped asking. I picked up my daughter and walked out the door without looking back.
Now it's his turn to find out what it feels like when nobody chooses you.
Chapter 1
Three days after I gave birth to my daughter, I found out my husband had given away the postpartum suite my parents paid for.
He gave it to his brother's girlfriend, who had just had a baby boy. According to my mother-in-law, a grandson deserved the best room. My daughter could make do with whatever was left.
That morning, Wade was supposed to drive us home from the hospital. At eight o'clock, he texted me instead. Something came up at work. Take a cab, I'll meet you there.
So I took a cab, with Alma asleep in my arms the whole way.
At the front desk, the nurse told me I was in Room 12.
"Your husband came in last week and signed the change himself," she said, turning her tablet toward me. "The corner suite is under Brynn's name now."
Brynn was my brother-in-law Tanner's girlfriend. She had her baby one day after I had Alma.
My C-section stitches pulled with every step down the hall. The door to the corner suite was half open, and I heard my mother-in-law, Colleen, before I saw her.
"Look at those strong little hands. That's a Holloway boy."
I pushed the door open.
Brynn was sitting up in the king-size bed. Her blond hair was curled, and her makeup was done. Colleen sat next to her, feeding her soup with a spoon.
I knew that thermos. It was my mom's. She had stayed up all night making that soup for me.
A baby boy was asleep in the bassinet my parents had bought for Alma.
"Marisol!" Colleen didn't even put the spoon down. "Perfect timing. Come meet Gordon Holloway the Second, named after my late husband. We finally have a grandson."
Finally. As if Alma didn't count.
"That's my soup," I said. My voice came out smaller than I wanted.
"Your mom left it at the front desk this morning." Colleen gave Brynn another spoonful. "Brynn needs it more. Mothers of boys need extra care. Everyone knows that."
I looked around the room. Alma's white cotton blankets were folded on the dresser. The bottle sterilizer my dad bought was plugged in by the window. The mobile my college roommate made by hand was hanging over the baby's head.
"Where are Alma's things?"
"Oh, I put a few in your room." Colleen waved her hand. "Alma's still so little, she won't even notice what blanket she's using. But a grandson needs the best from the start."
Brynn gave me a sweet smile. "Hope you don't mind. Colleen says family shares everything."
"And let's be honest, Marisol." Colleen stood up and smoothed her blouse. "What would you even do with a garden, with that leg? Brynn looks so much better in this light. She gave this family an heir."
She meant the scar from my car crash three years ago. Wade was the firefighter who pulled me out of that car. He visited me in the hospital every day after that, and that was how we fell in love.
"My parents paid for this suite," I said. "For me and Alma."
"And now it's being used properly."
I heard footsteps behind me. Wade walked in with three coffees from the café downstairs: one for his mother, one for Brynn, and one for himself.
His face went white when he saw me. "Marisol. You're already here. I was going to tell you."
"Tell me what? That this was your emergency at work?" I shifted Alma to my other arm. My stitches were throbbing. "You signed our suite away, Wade. You didn't even call me."
"It's not like that." He put the coffees down. "Mom said Brynn needed the space. Tanner can't afford a place like this. We're all family. What does it matter which room we're in?"
"It matters because my parents paid for it. For their daughter and their granddaughter."
He lowered his voice, like he was talking to a hysterical woman. "Can we talk about this in private? You're getting upset over nothing."
Nothing. Alma's first week in the world was nothing to him.
Behind him, Colleen picked up her phone. "Oh, this light is perfect. Brynn, hold the baby up."
She took five pictures of Brynn in my bed, with Alma's blankets and my mother's thermos right there in the shot. Then she started typing.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Posting." She turned the screen toward me.
The post was already up. It showed Colleen and Brynn cheek to cheek, with the baby between them. The caption said: So blessed to take care of my sweet daughter-in-law and my precious grandson! Family is everything 💕 #blessed #grandma #HollowayBoy
Brynn wasn't married to anyone in this family. I was.
I looked at Wade. He was looking at the floor.
"I need to feed Alma," I said.
"Of course, dear." Colleen had already turned back to the baby. "Your room has everything you need for basic care."
I walked out. Before the door closed, I heard her voice again.
"Don't let her upset you, sweetheart. She's always been dramatic. It's probably the hormones. What matters is that you've given us a beautiful grandson."
Alma started crying as soon as we reached Room 12, like she could feel how upset I was.
The room had a narrow bed, one small window, and a plastic hospital bassinet. There was no kitchen and no garden. Colleen had left us two burp cloths on the chair.
I sat down on the bed and fed Alma. With my free hand, I opened Instagram.
Sixty-three likes. Colleen's friends had filled the comments: What a devoted grandma! What a handsome boy!
Nobody mentioned Alma.
A new like popped up at the top of the list.
It was from Wade.
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