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“Well, we’ll know more when your results come back.”
“We already know,” I growled, stalking out of the kitchen. “I’m clean because Joey is clean!”
“Aoife, wait, we need to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t,” I called over my shoulder as I stomped up the staircase. “I need to shower.”
“This conversation isn’t over, young lady.”
“Wannabet?” I grumbled, storming into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me. Kicking off my runners, I moved straight for my bed, wanting nothing more in this moment than to curl up in a ball under the covers and hibernate.
Because it was too much.
It was all too fucking much.
Depressed and angry, I stalked over to my wardrobe and kicked the door in frustration. “Assholes.”
Furious when my phone vibrated in my pocket, I pulled it out and glared at the screen, fully prepared to see my mother’s name on the screen. The number calling wasn’t one I had stored in my contacts. Instantly, I was racked with panic as I clicked Accept and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Aoife, it’s me.”
Three words.
Three words that took the air clean out of my lungs and my legs from beneath me. Staggering over to my bed, I sank down and allowed myself to absorb the tsunami of relief flooding my body.
Eight days of silence had brought me close to the brink of a nervous breakdown. Hearing his voice melted the ice around my poor battered heart.
“You bastard,” I choked out when my voice found me.
“I know.”
Trembling violently, I switched my phone to my left hand and pressed it to my ear as tears streamed down my cheeks. “You fucking asshole!”
“I know, okay?” His voice was rough, his words slurred, and I didn’t need to be standing in front of him to know that his eyes were black as coal.
“Goddammit, Joey.” I bowed my head, feeling too much in this moment to have the strength to hold my head up. “You promised.”
“I know I promised,” came his torn response. “I fucked up.”
“You think?” I sneered, resisting the urge to throw my phone at my bedroom wall. “I’m pregnant with your baby and you just fall off the goddamn map! Anything could have happened to you, Joey. Anything. Don’t you get that? Don’t you understand how scared I’ve been?”
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
Pain.
Relief.
Fury.
Devastation.
I was feeling everything in this moment.
“Are you okay?” I forced myself to ask, voice trembling. “Are you hurt?”
“I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, voice strained and slurred. “Everything’s hazy and my eyes hurt.”
“Because you should still be in hospital!”
