“What? Are you okay?” He looked concerned, his eyes scanning me head to toe.
“Just tired, thanks again for dinner.” I still spoke stiffly to him sometimes; I couldn’t help it.
I was doing my best.
51
VICTOR
Istacked the dishwasher, pleased with my efforts. Lila had devoured the dinner I’d made for her, and now she was in bed resting. It wasn’t quite the domestic bliss I envisioned, but it was nice enough.
I paused the baby podcast I was listening to; this time they were talking about reflux in babies, and it sounded tough. I hoped our little one didn’t suffer with it. I turned the dishwasher on then wiped down the table, checking the room was clear before I sat down to watch TV.
Lila was being relatively quiet lately, and it worried me. I hoped she was okay, especially with the baby. I’d like to think she’d come to me if she needed me, even though she couldn’t tolerate my presence for very long.
Come to think of it though, that was getting easier. She was approaching her seventeenth week of pregnancy, and maybe it was making her more tired. Maybe she didn’t have the energy to argue with me.
I yawned and tuned into the sports channel, easing back into the sofa as I contemplated my life for the millionth time. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t give up on Lila, and I’d promisedher. I still loved her so much, and it was hard not to hold her when she was tired or go and lie beside her and stroke her back. I wanted to be there for her so much, but I couldn’t. So instead, I went to work, cooked meals where I could, and kept the house clean and the trash emptied. It was the least I could do for her.
I felt better since I’d quit the night job, and I’d even been offered a permanent position at work. Things were going okay, but not quite great. Soon, the baby would arrive, and Lila would put the house back on the market. I’d stop seeing her every day, and the thought crushed me. Lila’s presence soothed me; I loved being around her. I was itching to touch her though and had to stop myself on more than one occasion.
Then I’d need to find somewhere to live again, and I couldn’t have a baby in a shithole like that apartment I’d been in before.
Fuck, no.
The divorce had fucking destroyed me. I refused to look at the letter that had been forwarded here from my old place, knowing full well what it was.
Lila may not be my wife, but she will always be mine.
Interestingly, on a good note, that fucking smarmy prick hadn’t shown his face again. If I saw him again, I’d knock him the fuck out. Fucking Lila when she was pregnant with my child?
Not acceptable.
He may have got tenaway with it once, because she wanted it, but he wouldn’t get away with it again. Fucking her was off limits to every single man in the world. Even me.
Not that I didn’t think about it every day.
But I cared about her. I wanted to make sure she was eating enough, that she was getting enough sleep, not doing too much. I’d bought blueberry muffins for breakfast tomorrow, her favourite, so I knew she wouldn’t be hungry. She didn’t have work tomorrow according to the schedule pinned to the notice board, so she’d sort herself out with lunch until I came home.
Unless another prick turned up with a private jet to sweep her off for Greek food.
Fucking bastard.
I opened the kindle app on my phone and resumed reading the parenting book I’d downloaded, losing myself in all the hints and tips from people who were much better at this shit than me.
I was lost in the new mother section, when something stopped me in my tracks.
The mother will seek emotional reassurance from her partner.
What if the mother didn’t have a partner? Who provided it then? Lila would always have me, whether she wanted me or not.
I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I turned instinctively to see Lila staring at me, looking away quickly when I caught her.
“Is everything okay?” I sat up and watched as she walked over to the sofa, choosing to sit on the one beside me.
“Yeah, I just can’t sleep.” She rubbed her eyes and yawned.
“Aches?” I guessed, and she blinked.
