“That isn’t what I thought.”
“I lost my job, Ivy.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Four months ago. Right after the second trimester scan.”
The clock over the stove ticked. I could hear it.
“Ryan.”
“I put on a shirt and tie every morning. I sit in the coffee shop until five. I send resumes. I’ve had two interviews in four months, and neither called back.”
I stared at him.
“The nursery,” I said slowly.
“Credit cards. Three of them. She thinks the crib came from our savings. There are no savings, Ivy. There haven’t been for weeks.”
I sat down too, because my legs stopped working.
“So when the doctor said surgeries,” I whispered.
“I saw a bill I couldn’t pay on top of bills she doesn’t even know exist.”
“There are no savings.”
Ryan took a breath.
“And when I saw the diagnosis, I knew I could use it. Melissa will grieve, but she won’t ever know I already failed her.”
