Chapter 2
I stared at the appointment card in my hand, the edges worn from my nervous fidgeting. Dr. Levine, Obstetrics & Gynecology, 2:30 PM. The first official prenatal appointment for our baby—a milestone that should have been celebrated, shared, remembered.
I'd scheduled it specifically during Ryan's lunch break. He'd promised to be there. "Nothing could keep me away," he'd said just yesterday, his hand briefly resting on my still-flat stomach before his attention drifted back to his phone.
The waiting room was painted in soothing pastels, filled with the quiet murmurs of expectant couples. I watched them lean into each other, sharing whispered jokes and gentle touches. The clock on the wall read 2:25 PM. I smoothed my dress and checked my phone again.
No messages.
At 2:28, it finally buzzed in my hand.
*Can't make it. Chloe just called—she's in bad shape. Talking about pills again. I'm the only one who can talk her down. Reschedule?*
The words blurred as tears filled my eyes. I blinked them back, aware of the receptionist's pitying glance. This wasn't just another dinner or date night. This was our child's first doctor's appointment.
My fingers hovered over the screen, trembling slightly. What could I possibly say? That he should choose his unborn baby over his ex-girlfriend? That after everything—the postponed wedding, the constant interruptions, the endless emergencies—this was the final straw?
Before I could respond, another text appeared.
*I'm sorry, Izzy. You know I'd be there if I could. Chloe needs me right now.*
Always Chloe. Always her needs above all else.
"Ms. Morgan?" The nurse called my name, clipboard in hand. "The doctor's ready for you."
I rose on unsteady legs, slipping my phone into my purse. "My fiancé won't be joining us," I said, my voice surprisingly steady despite the hot tears now tracking down my cheeks.
The nurse's expression softened. "That's okay, honey. You're not the first to do this alone."
But I wasn't supposed to be alone. That was the whole point of love, wasn't it? To never have to face the important moments by yourself.
I followed her down the hallway, past rooms where other women shared this milestone with partners who had actually shown up. For the first time, I allowed myself to wonder if this would be my future—always waiting for Ryan, always being disappointed, always alone even when I shouldn't be.
* * *
The Hawthorne Foundation Gala was Chicago's premier charity event, held in the glittering Grand Ballroom of the Sinclair Hotel. I stood at the edge of the crowd, a glass of sparkling water in my hand, watching Ryan work the room. He was in his element here—charming, confident, the young CEO whose family foundation was making a difference in children's healthcare.
Ironically, he'd been more attentive tonight than he had been in weeks. Perhaps it was the public setting, the expectant eyes of Chicago's elite watching the golden couple who had recently postponed their wedding. Again.
He made his way back to me, sliding an arm around my waist. "You look beautiful tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear.
I turned to face him, keeping my voice low. "We need to talk about what happened yesterday."
His smile faltered slightly. "Isabella, this isn't the place."
"When is the place, Ryan? When is the time? You're never home. You're never available. I went to our baby's first appointment alone."
His expression hardened. "You're being overly emotional. You know Chloe was in crisis."
"She's always in crisis!" My voice rose slightly, drawing a few glances. I lowered it again. "Every time there's something important in our lives, Chloe has an emergency. Don't you see the pattern?"
Ryan's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen. His face changed instantly.
"It's Chloe," he said, already stepping away. "She's having a panic attack backstage. She came to support the foundation and now she's—"
"Of course she is," I cut in, my voice bitter. "Of course she's having a crisis right now, in this exact moment when I'm trying to talk to you about our future."
Ryan's eyes flashed with irritation. "This is exactly what I mean about being overly emotional. Chloe can't help her mental health issues. She needs me."
"And I don't?" I whispered, but he was already walking away, threading through the crowd toward the backstage area where Chloe waited.
I watched him go, my hand instinctively moving to my stomach. In that moment, standing alone in a room full of people, I finally asked myself the question I'd been avoiding for months:
Would Ryan ever choose us over her?