Part 3:

“For two years, honey, I’ve wired money every month to cover most of this apartment’s rent. Ryan’s paycheck does not stretch that far. He just never told you.”

The floor seemed to shift beneath me, but this time in a good way.

Ryan tried to charm her first.

“Come on, Mom. You don’t mean that.”

When that failed, he got angry.

“You can’t order me around in my own place!”

Dana simply unfolded the cot in the hallway.

“The second Emma sleeps in that car again, the transfers stop. Try paying the rent by yourself next month and see how it feels.”

I walked past Ryan with my pregnancy pillow and climbed into our bed.

Our real bed.

The mattress welcomed my aching body like it had been waiting for me.

Ryan slept on that cot for three nights.

On the fourth night, he knocked on the bedroom door, red-eyed and ashamed, and finally apologized.

He agreed to counseling. Dana booked the first session herself.

Six weeks later, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl, with my mother-in-law holding my hand.

After that, I never apologized for taking up space again.