Can't Fall in Love Without You (Christian Yelich)

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She couldn't look at him, and she didn't want him to look at her. But she could feel his eyes burning into her. Judging her huge belly. Comparing her to Sloane. Sloane didn't get fat during pregnancy. Sloane didn't touch ice cream. She ran a marathon every day.

She would never be Sloane Yelich. She would never be a Yelich period. Deep down, she knew that all along. Men just wanted to fuck her – mostly just to say they fucked a smart, boring girl, a doctor. Christian just wanted to know what it was like buried between her legs. She was a fool.

"Dr. Allen, could you please tell Mr. Yelich to leave?" she asked softly, her voice flat, neither angry nor kind. She didn't have much emotion left to share with others. It was all trapped in her breaking heart.

Dr. Allen was about to speak, but Christian interrupted her. "Please, Ellie . . . I need to know you and baby boy are safe. Please." He wanted to grab her hand. Touch her stomach. Remind their son that daddy was there, too, and that he'd fight for them. He'd fight for their beautiful family. He wasn't going to give up. He couldn't. He couldn't lose anything else.

Elizabeth wanted to speak, but she couldn't find the words. She'd rather be silent than show any hint of feeling. She couldn't be weak in front of him. It would just be more ammo for him to use against her later.

"Dr. Reed, it might be helpful to have Christian here during the procedure. I know you're going through a lot right now, a million negative thoughts flying through your head, so let him help."

She could see Christian wipe his eyes in her peripheral vision. Why was he crying? He didn't want her. He didn't want any of this. There was no reason for tears.

"I don't care," she whispered.

"Take a seat, Christian. Get comfortable. We have to do an ultrasound first."

Christian nodded, taking a seat next to Ellie. He put a hand up on the medical table, near her hand, which was clenched tightly. He dreamed she'd take what he offered, but she just looked straight ahead. Focused. Her mind somewhere else. He figured it was occupied by anything but loving him.

"I'm just trying to determine the safest place to insert the needle," Dr. Allen informed Christian. Elizabeth knew the procedure, and she knew it well. 1 in 200 chance of miscarriage. Risk of preterm labor. Potential for infection.

Christian nodded, tears pouring out of his brown eyes. He did this to her. Every ounce of pain was his fault. He could see it all in her sunken, empty eyes. He broke his love. Now he just hoped he didn't give her a broken baby.

Christian watched Ellie as she watched the ultrasound monitor. There was no brightness in her eyes. The green looked almost grey. He needed to bring that color back . . . But he didn't know how. Even if he did know how, she would push him away.

"Such a beautiful baby," Dr. Allen said to the pair. "God, those cheeks." Christian's eyes still didn't dart away from Ellie. He loved his sweet boy, but Ellie had to be first right now. He had to protect Ellie.

"I'm going to prep the needle, okay, Dr. Reed?"

Ellie just shut her eyes and nodded. She hadn't slept a wink, anxiety consuming her thoughts as she considered all the damage that needle could inflict on her world, a world that was already so irreparably destroyed. She couldn't lose her baby. She just couldn't.

Two years ago she didn't want to be a mom, never even really considered the chance, and now she was begging the universe to not take the opportunity away from her.

Her shaking hand suddenly clasped Christian's as the needle was slowly inserted into her uterus. She still couldn't look at him, but she needed something to hold to dull the sharpness, and his hand was all that was available to her.

Christian felt overwhelming comfort and relief in her touch. Ellie felt pain and emptiness in his.

The procedure took less than five minutes, and she reclaimed her hand as soon as everything was over. "Thanks, Dr. Allen," she said quickly, putting herself back together and leaving the exam room.

She hoped Dr. Allen would stall Christian, explaining to him all the things she already knew – how long it would take to get results, the life-threatening risks . . . Oh, God. She shouldn't have left him alone.

But she couldn't stop now; his fears couldn't be her problems -- she had her own to manage. She had to get to her apartment quickly to pick up a few things, including some maternity clothes she had purchased weeks ago, and she didn't want to see him in her rear-view mirror. She couldn't. She'd fracture even further.

Her stupid fucking apartment . . . With all its memories . . . Painful reminders of the future she once thought she'd have with Christian. God, she was stupid enough to think he'd want her as a wife. Her mousy brown hair and weird size 8 body. Her giant, pregnant belly . . . Where Sloane probably only had a dainty bump. A model's bump.

She quickly opened her fridge and threw everything inside away aggressively – moldy fruits and vegetables, spoilt milk, leftovers from meals she cooked for him. She'd take the trash down on her way to her car . . . She'd leave for good.

She continued her rampage, throwing away any hint of him. His deodorant. His boxers. His body wash . . . The same body wash he had scrubbed her down with in the shower the night she lost their baby. She tried to push past the memory. And the pain.

She continued to her room and collected more of his clothing, his stupid sports magazines. She dug into her drawers and tossed away condoms, their toys . . . Any reminder that they had ever been intimate. She was done.

She was ready. She was going to go to her parents' house. She'd make a life there. She'd be a sweet, small-town OBGYN with her boringly pretty face and soft voice. She was made for the role. The friendly rural Midwestern women would love her.

She paused for a moment when she noticed the necklace on the nightstand. She had put it on his doorknob. It shouldn't be right in front of her face mocking her.

She tossed it, too. Everything was finished. Every hint of him was in two plastic trash bags. Soon, the remnants of their relationship would waste away in a landfill in uglier parts of the city, where they belonged.

She dragged the bags into the kitchen before collapsing onto the couch into fits of sobbing. She couldn't stop. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't feel because she was so overwhelmed by the weight of the world.

Christian. Their baby. The termination of their relationship. The end.

She didn't even notice him sneak into the apartment and stand in front of her, dropping to his knees. She was too lost in her turmoil to even process his arms wrapping around her body, pulling her against him as tightly as he could.

"You have to breathe, baby. You have to breathe."

She heard that.

She heard his whisper into her ear.