Lost in my thoughts, I jumped when there was a light knock on the door. My heels clicking as I made my way to the foyer, my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach as I pulled open the door, all the memories of the life I was trying to move past rushing forward.

“Mrs. Burnham…,” I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice as I stared at the petite woman with short platinum hair.

“Please, dear.” She took off her large white sunglasses and put them in her purse. “Call me Colleen,” she said with a genuine smile.

Nodding and in a daze, I stepped back. “Won’t you come in, Colleen?”

Her eyes shot to my stomach as she took in my side view. Today would be the day I chose to wear something that showed off my figure, including the baby bump, instead of one of my flowing maxi dresses. The black sheath dress I wore made my stomach rather pronounced.

“I see,” she said, walking through the foyer and into the living area.

Nervous about why she was here, I headed toward the kitchen area of my open living space. “Can I get you anything? A coffee? Water?”

“I’m fine, dear.”

I nodded, grabbing the cup of coffee that had finished brewing. Adding a bit of sweetener and some milk, I tried to ignore the unsettled thoughts floating through my mind. This was the story of my life. Just when everything seemed to be back on track and I thought I’d get over my past, a reminder of what I had been through would show up on my doorstep. I didn’t know how many setbacks a person could possibly endure before it became too much.

I walked to the living room, noticing her eye the stack of bills on my kitchen table, a look of sympathy on her face. I didn’t want her empathy. It would just be another reminder of how naïve I was.

“Won’t you have a seat?” I gestured to the couch as I sat down in the spot that had always been mine.

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down on the opposite end. She glanced to my stomach again, a forlorn expression crossing her face. “Well, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”

I laughed nervously at the light tone of her voice. “You could say that. In all honesty, I’m scared to know.” Raising my cup to my lips, I took a much needed sip of my coffee, despite the fact it was decaffeinated.

“May I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” I replied, my voice guarded. Placing my mug on the coffee table, I braced myself for whatever she was about to ask.

“How far along are you?”

“Seventeen weeks.” I glanced at my stomach, placing my hand over it. “Almost eighteen.”

“During those almost eighteen weeks, how many times have you tried to get in touch with Tyler?”

“I’ve lost track,” I admitted, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. I didn’t want her to see how much her son’s actions affected me. “I told him to stay away, but I didn’t think he would.”

“I know, dear,” she said, scooting across the couch and grabbing my hand in hers. The contact was comforting and soothing.

“I started to think I made him up. I went to his house and…” I turned my gaze from her, the memory of that day still fresh, the feeling I was losing my mind resurfacing.

Placing her hand on my shoulder, she said, “I can imagine how difficult it is to see the reminders of him–”

I shot up. “No! It’s so much more than that. After I was home for a week, I finally stopped being stubborn and decided to go over there to talk to him about everything. You know who answered the door?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Who?” she asked cautiously.

“A man who knew my name, who tried to convince me he had been living in that house for years!” I began pacing in front of her, reliving that day from hell. “It was exactly as I remembered. The décor the same. The cars the same. Hell, anchored out back was the same yacht I remember! I was so confused. I was convinced I imagined everything between us! I searched for some sort of proof that what we had was real, that we did know each other, but there was nothing. Photos had been manipulated on my phone so he was no longer in any of them. Not one trace of his existence in my life was left. I couldn’t help but think I made it all up! Even after all the assurances my friends had given me that he was real, that he did exist, I still questioned it. Until…”

I stopped in my tracks, my hand settling on my stomach. “Until I found out I was pregnant. This is the only proof I have that I’m not fucking crazy and I hate it. I hate that he lied to me. I hate that he did this to me. But mostly…” I fell onto the couch, finding my way into her nurturing arms. “Mostly I hate that I miss him. I hate that I told him to stay away and he listened. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about him. And I hate that I think I still love him, even though I’ll never be able to trust him again.”

“Shhh,” she soothed, kissing the top of my head like my own mother used to do. “It’s going to be okay. He went after you, ya know.”

I pulled out of her arms and stared at her. “What do you mean?”

“He tried to stop you at the airport, but couldn’t get to you in time. Hours later, I found him sitting on a bench along the Charles River. I watched him for a good twenty minutes before I approached him. You know what he was doing the entire time?”

I studied her through the tears in my eyes. “What?” I asked, almost nervous to know the answer, fearful it would cause an overwhelming feeling of regret.

“He was staring at the most beautiful diamond ring I’ve ever seen.”

I gasped, the memory of that weekend rushing back. “He asked me to marry him right before the dedication dinner,” I whispered. “I said I didn’t want a ring…”

“I taught my boys better than that.” Colleen smiled, then sobered. “But I must confess, I feel partly responsible for why you haven’t heard from him.”

“Why is that?” I wiped at the tears on my cheeks.

“I’ve been where you are. I’ve been hurt by the one person I thought I loved. I told my own husband to get out and stay out of my life.”

“And did he?” I was desperate for advice from someone who’d been where I was and could sympathize with what I was going through.

“He did,” she recalled. “He gave me the space I needed in order to realize my life sucked without him.”

I laughed at her words.

“At first, Tyler didn’t want to give up without a fight, but he decided to give you the space you needed in order for your heart to heal. He took a humanitarian assignment in Sudan that was only supposed to last a few weeks. As far as I know, he’s still there, helping refugees have a better life, trying to dampen the pain he’s caused you.” She grabbed my hands in hers as I fought to control my emotions. “I know Tyler. He’s a bit of a lost soul. When he hurts someone, he physically feels that pain. He wears it. He carries it as he would his own. He’s probably struggling with his guilt and is taking this time to learn to find meaning in it.”

“I still don’t understand why he hasn’t called or anything.”

“And what would you do if he did? Is this really something that could be settled with a simple phone call?”

I shook my head slightly.

“Mackenzie, darling, his absence from your life right now is giving you space to figure out what you do want. Even though he’s my son and I will always support him, I also know he hurt you. That’s not something which can be easily forgotten. He’s working on forgiving himself right now. When he’s ready, he’ll be back. Just promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“When Tyler comes back, and he will come back for you, keep your heart open.” She raised herself from the couch and headed toward the front door.

“But how am I going to believe a word that comes out of his mouth after everything?” I asked, following her.

“Sometimes, Mackenzie,” she began, spinning around and grabbing my hands in hers, “the most meaningful thoughts can’t be communicated with words. Don’t listen to what comes out of his mouth. Listen to his heart. Then you’ll know.” She enveloped me in her arms once more and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. “Here’s my card, dear,” she said, pulling a business card out of her purse. “I expect regular updates on my grandbaby.” She winked. “Do you know the gender yet?”