"I'm disobeying an order by obeying the first one? You're angry at me any way, and if I leave, you're just going to be angry at me about something else, and assume that I don't want our baby. I'm sorry I'm apparently not the kind of slave you want." She sighed, zipping the bag. She knew being here was too good to be true, he was going to throw her out, or not want to waste his time with her any more.
Then she paused, thinking back over her words. 'Our baby'. She hadn't thought about it with that phrase before, much less said those words before. The time she'd spent pushing the subject aside, not even giving it any thought, and to be taking ownership of the situation, to acknowledge that... It knocked her a little.
"I'm trying, Derek. I'm sorry if it doesn't seem like it, I'm sorry if you think I'm being stubborn, or a bitch, or... cold. But you've wanted children your whole life, I'm guessing? I've had two days to deal with this. I'm not telling you that you can't be mad at me, I'm just saying... I'm sorry you're getting mad at me over it. I'm sorry I'm making you unhappy. Because I have never planned on not having it... but that doesn't stop me being scared of what's to come, even though I know I'm not alone in it." She looked at the floor, shaking her head, already mentally exhausted for first thing in the morning.
"So that's why I need to talk to Heather. And that's why I'm staying put here. And if you still want me to leave, then of course I will."