It Ends with Us

I feel like I’m my father.

---

Chapter Thirty-One
Mom: I miss you. When am I going to see you?
I stare at the text. It’s been two days since Ryle found out
I’m pregnant. I know it’s time to tell my mother. I’m not
nervous about telling her I’m pregnant. The only thing
that scares me is discussing my situation with Ryle with
her.
Me: Miss you, too. I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon. Can you
make lasagna?
As soon as I close out the text to her, I get another
incoming text.
Allysa: Come upstairs and eat dinner with us tonight. It’s
homemade pizza night.
I haven’t been to Allysa’s in a few days. Since before
Ryle came home. I’m not sure where he’s staying, but I
assume it’s with them. The last thing I want right now is to
have to be in the same apartment as him.
Me: Who all will be there?
Allysa: Lily . . . I wouldn’t do that to you. He’s working until 8
tomorrow morning. It’ll just be the three of us.
She knows me way too well. I text her back and tell her
I’ll come over as soon as I finish up with work.
• • •
“What do babies eat at this age?”
We’re all seated around the table. Rylee was asleep
when I got here, but I woke her up so I could hold her.
Allysa didn’t mind; she said she doesn’t want her wide
awake when she’s ready to go to bed.

---

“Breast milk,” Marshall says with a mouthful. “But
sometimes I stick my finger in my soda and put it in her
mouth so she can taste it.”
“Marshall!” Allysa yells. “You better be kidding.”
“Totally kidding,” he says, although I can’t tell if he
really is.
“But when do they start eating baby food?” I ask. I
figure I need to learn this stuff before giving birth.
“Around four months,” Allysa says with a yawn. She
drops her fork and leans back in her chair, rubbing her
eyes.
“You want me to keep her at my place tonight so you
guys can get a full night of sleep?”
Allysa says, “No, it’s fine,” at the same time Marshall
says, “That would be awesome.”
I laugh. “Really. I live right downstairs. I don’t work
tomorrow so if I don’t get any sleep tonight I can just
sleep in tomorrow.”
Allysa looks like she’s contemplating it for a moment.
“I could leave my cell phone on in case you need me.”
I look back down at Rylee and grin. “Did you hear
that? You get to have a sleepover with Aunt Lily!”
• • •
With everything Allysa is throwing in her diaper bag, it
looks like I’m about to take Rylee on a trip across the
country. “She’ll let you know when she’s hungry. Don’t
use the microwave to heat the milk, just put it in . . .”
“I know,” I interrupt. “I’ve made her like fifty bottles
since she’s been alive.”
Allysa nods and then walks over to her bed. She drops
the diaper bag down beside me. Marshall is in the living
room feeding Rylee one last time, so Allysa lies down

---

beside me on the bed while we wait. She props her head
up on her hand.
“Do you know what this means?” she asks.
“No. What?”
“I get to have sex tonight. It’s been four months.”
I crinkle up my nose. “I didn’t need to know that.”
She laughs and falls down on her pillow, but then sits
straight up. “Shit,” she says. “I should probably shave my
legs. I think it’s been four months since I did that, too.”
I laugh, but then I gasp. My hands move quickly to my
stomach. “Oh my God! I just felt something!”
“Really?” Allysa puts her hand on my stomach and
we’re both quiet for the next five minutes as we wait for it
to happen again. It does, but it’s so soft, it’s almost
unnoticeable. I laugh again as soon as it happens.
“I didn’t feel anything,” Allysa says, pouting. “I guess
it’ll be a few more weeks before you can feel it from the
outside, though. Is this the first time you felt it move?”
“Yeah. I’ve been scared I was growing the laziest baby
in history.” I keep my hands on my stomach, hoping to
feel it again. We sit quietly for a few more minutes, and I
can’t help but wish my circumstances were different. Ryle
should be here. He should be the one sitting beside me
with his hand on my stomach. Not Allysa.
The thought almost takes away all the joy I’m feeling.
Allysa must notice because she puts one of her hands on
mine and squeezes. When I look at her, she isn’t smiling
anymore.
“Lily,” she says. “I’ve been wanting to say something to
you.”
Oh, God. I don’t like the sound of her voice.
“What is it?”

---

She sighs and then forces a gloomy smile. “I know
you’re sad that you’re going through this without my
brother. No matter how involved he is, I just want you to
know that this is going to be the best thing you’ve ever
experienced in your life. You’re gonna be a great mom,
Lily. This baby is really lucky.”
I’m glad Allysa is the only one in here right now,
because her words make me laugh, cry, and snot like a
hormonal teenager. I hug her and tell her thank you. It’s
amazing how hearing those words gives me back the joy I
was feeling.
She smiles and then says, “Now go get my baby and
take her away from here so I can have some sex with my
filthy rich husband.”
I roll off the bed and stand up. “You sure know how to
bring levity into a situation. I’d say it’s your strong point.”
She smiles. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go away.”

---

Chapter Thirty-Two
Of all the secrets I’ve held over the last few months, I’m
the saddest about keeping everything from my mother. I
don’t know how she’ll take it. I know she’ll be excited
about the pregnancy, but I don’t know how she’ll feel
about me and Ryle splitting up. She loves Ryle. And based
on her history with these types of situations, she’ll
probably find it very easy to excuse his behavior and try
and convince me to take him back. And in all honesty,
that’s part of the reason I’ve been stalling this, because
I’m scared there’s a chance she might be successful.
Most days I’m strong. Most days I’m so mad at him that
the thought of ever forgiving him is ludicrous. But some
days I miss him so much I can’t breathe. I miss the fun I
had with him. I miss making love to him. I miss missing
him. He used to work so many hours that when he would
walk in the front door at night I would rush across the
room and jump in his arms because I missed him so
much. I even miss how much he loved it when I would do
that.
It’s the not-so-strong days when I wish my mother knew
about everything that was going on. I sometimes just want
to drive over to her house and curl up on the couch with
her while she tucks my hair behind my ear and tells me
it’ll all be okay. Sometimes even grown women need their
mother’s comfort so we can just take a break from having
to be strong all the time.
I sit in my car, parked in her driveway, for a good five
minutes before I work up the strength to go inside. It
sucks that I have to do this because I know that in a way,
I’ll be breaking her heart, too. I hate it when she’s sad

---

and telling her I married a man who might be like my
father is going to make her really sad.
When I walk through the front door, she’s in the
kitchen layering noodles in a pan. I don’t remove my coat
right away for obvious reasons. I’m not wearing a
maternity shirt but my bump is almost impossible to hide
without a jacket. Especially from a mother.
“Hey, sweetie!” she says.
I walk into the kitchen and give her a side hug while
she layers cheese over the top of the lasagna. Once the
lasagna is in the oven, we walk over to the dining room
table and take a seat. She leans back in her chair and
takes a sip from a glass of tea.
She’s smiling. I hate it even more that she looks so
happy right now.
“Lily,” she says. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
I don’t like this. I was coming over here to talk to her.
I’m not prepared to receive a talk.
“What is it?” I ask hesitantly.
She grips her glass of tea with both hands. “I’m seeing
someone.”
My mouth drops open.
“Really?” I ask, shaking my head. “That’s . . .” I’m about
to say good, but then I grow instantly worried that she’s
just put herself in a similar situation she was in with my
father. She can see the worry on my face, so she grabs my
hands in both of hers.
“He’s good, Lily. He’s so good. I promise.”
Relief washes over me in an instant, because I can see
she’s telling the truth. I can see the happiness in her eyes.
“Wow,” I say, not expecting this at all. “I’m happy for you.
When can I meet him?”

---

“Tonight, if you want,” she says. “I can invite him over
to eat with us.”
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper. “Now’s not a good
time.”
Her hands squeeze around mine as soon as she realizes
I’m here to tell her something important. I start with the
better part of the news first.
I stand up and remove my jacket. At first, she doesn’t
think anything of it. She just assumes I’m making myself
comfortable. But then I take one of her hands and I press
it against my stomach. “You’re gonna be a grandma.”
Her eyes widen and for several seconds, she’s stunned
speechless. But then tears begin to form. She jumps up
and pulls me into a hug. “Lily!” she says. “Oh my God!”
She pulls back, smiling. “That was so fast. Were you
trying? You haven’t even been married for very long.”
I shake my head. “No. It was a shock. Believe me.”
She laughs and after another hug, we both sit down
again. I try to keep up my smile, but it’s not the smile of
an elated expectant mother. She sees that almost
immediately. She slides a hand over her mouth. “Sweetie,”
she whispers. “What’s the matter?”
Until this moment, I’ve fought to remain strong. I’ve
fought to not feel too sorry for myself when I’m around
other people. But sitting here with my mother, I crave
weakness. I just want to be able to give up for a little
while. I want her to take over and hug me and tell me it’ll
all be okay. And for the next fifteen minutes while I cry in
her arms, that’s exactly what happens. I just stop fighting
for myself because I need someone else to do it for me.
I spare her most of the details of our relationship, but I
do tell her the most important things. That he’s hurt me
on more than one occasion, and I don’t know what to do.
That I’m scared to have this baby alone. That I’m scared I
might make the wrong decision. That I’m scared I’m

---

being too weak and that I should have had him arrested.
That I’m scared I’m being too sensitive and I don’t know
if I’m overreacting. Basically, I tell her everything I
haven’t even been brave enough to fully admit to myself.
She retrieves some napkins out of the kitchen and
comes back to the table. After our eyes are finally dry, she
begins to crumple the napkin up between her hands,
rolling it over in circles as she stares down at it.
“Do you want to take him back?” she asks.
I don’t say yes. But I also don’t say no.
This is the first moment since this has happened that
I’m being completely honest. I’m honest to her and to
myself. Maybe because she’s the only one I know who has
been through this. She’s the only one I know who would
understand the massive amounts of confusion I’ve been
experiencing.
I shake my head, but I also shrug. “Most of me feels
like I’ll never be able to trust him again. But a huge part
of me grieves what I had with him. We were so good
together, Mom. The times I spent with him were some of
the best moments of my life. And occasionally I feel like
maybe I don’t want to give that up.”
I wipe the napkin beneath my eye, soaking up more
tears. “Sometimes . . . when I’m really missing him . . . I
tell myself that maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I could
put up with him when he’s at his worst just so I can have
him when he’s at his best.”
She puts her hand on top of mine and rubs her thumb
back and forth. “I know exactly what you mean, Lily. But
the last thing you want to do is lose sight of your limit.
Please don’t allow that to happen.”
I have no idea what she means by that. She sees the
confusion in my expression, so she squeezes my arm and
explains in more detail.

---

“We all have a limit. What we’re willing to put up with
before we break. When I married your father, I knew
exactly what my limit was. But slowly . . . with every
incident . . . my limit was pushed a little more. And a little
more. The first time your father hit me, he was
immediately sorry. He swore it would never happen again.
The second time he hit me, he was even more sorry. The
third time it happened, it was more than a hit. It was a
beating. And every single time, I took him back. But the
fourth time, it was only a slap. And when that happened, I
felt relieved. I remember thinking, ‘At least he didn’t beat