Stay With Me by Jenny Anastan Page A

me in the living room. The time for goodbyes had arrived. I was supposed to escort him to the door, shake his hand, and say goodbye. Maybe even organize another date for him and Olivia.
    But instead, no. I remained nailed to my spot, silent. I wanted him to stay a while longer. Just to have a moment that would be only ours. But it was inappropriate, terribly so, and I would appear as a woman who was frustrated and depressed and in need of attention from an ex—an ex who was about to get married, no less.
    While I fought my internal war, Andrew sat down on the couch, and I went over to his side. My nervous system was entirely upside down.
    “Olivia is adorable,” he whispered proudly. “You did a good job.”
    I was ecstatic. It was absolutely the best compliment he could’ve given me. “Thank you.”
    “Tell me about her,” he said as he made himself more comfortable.
    I got up and went to open the cupboard, taking out a photo album.
    “Here.” I handed it to him, taking a seat next to him.
    “Are they of her?” he asked as he opened the album.
    “Yes, I love photographing her. Here she was just born. I took it the day after we’d been released from the hospital.”
    He remained silent while looking at the photos.
    “This one I took the first time we went out.” I laughed as I noticed how shy I sounded. “It was the end of October; the wind was frigid.” I turned the page and lit up as I saw the photo of her first Christmas. “God, her first Christmas. Mag had given her a red velvet romper. She was so precious.”
    “I see . . .” he said, devouring every image.
    “Here’s her first time in the playpen.” Another page, more pictures of Olivia having her bath, followed by photos of her first baby tooth.
    I’d immortalized everything, every moment, every change. I’d even taken videos, which I would show him one of these nights.
    I continued explaining every photo: her first bowl of mush, the first time she held her glass up on her own, the first day of preschool. Her first pizza, her first ice cream cone. Her first fall, her first time on rides. The days at the zoo, her first dip in the pool . . .
    I went on recounting for another hour. When I finished, he had a lost look. It must have been difficult to reconcile all of those moments, all of those firsts he hadn’t been a part of.
    I closed the album and went to get up, but just then, a picture fell and landed on Andrew’s leg.
    He lifted it carefully and his eyes widened.
    “It’s you.”
    I looked at the image. It was me when I was seven months pregnant. I remembered when it had been taken.
    I was with Mag and Josy at the beach. The bathing suit didn’t hide my enormous belly, and I smiled, resting my hand on my stomach.
    “God.” He was about to say something else, but he stopped himself, and put his hand on his forehead without moving his attention away from the photograph. “You were truly magnificent.” He caressed the photo, then turned toward me, looking at me with an intensity that pained me.
    “Were you always well? Your pregnancy, I mean . . . did it all go well?”
    “Yes.” I smiled. “Even the delivery. It wasn’t a walk in the park, but with Mag and Alys close by, I managed wonderfully.”
    “I wish I could have been there.” He spoke with a throttle in his throat. “I should have been the one behind the camera . . .” He held the photo tightly.
    “Andrew, I’m sorry, I—”
    “You don’t need to apologize. The blame is certainly not all yours.”
    No, it wasn’t. But I didn’t say it. I leaned my head back on the chair and turned to look at him.
    “What are you looking at, Zoe?” he said, keeping his eyes steady on me.
    “I was noticing how much you’ve aged,” I said, trying to lighten the moment since it was too charged.
    Andrew laughed and tossed his head back as well, leaning in to mine. “I’m still in the top rankings for the most desirable men.”
    He was so close. I only needed to move an