“I’ve been to the clinic. I’m expecting my results in a few days. If I’ve been infected because of your choices, if the baby is at risk, that’s on you too. I hope for your sake that when you buried yourself in her dirty cunt, you wore something.”
Then she was gone, the door clicking shut quietly for once behind her.
I stared at the door before backing away, turning to the window and staring down at the street so I could watch her leave. She’d parked right outside the entrance to my flat, and she slid into the car so fast I barely saw her.
Not that I could through the tears anyway.
30
LILA
Drive. Drive. Just drive.
My knuckles were clenched so tight around the wheel I thought the skin would split.
I couldn’t see because of my stupid fucking tears, and I couldn’t stop shaking.
God, seeing him was so hard!
The pain in his eyes hit me more than his shitty apartment, along with how much weight he’d lost. The sight of the rumpled bed made me feel sick.
Does he fuck her in it? Does she still scream his name like she did in that video?
“Breathe, Lila,” I told myself, pulling over so I could sob without endangering my life.
I turned off the engine and sat sobbing, my heart breaking as the image of my broken husband trying desperately to explain his vile actions, refusing to leave my mind.
He had a beard.
I’d never seen him with a beard, but it wasn’t a nicely groomed one. It looked like it had grown from his face whilehe hadn’t been looking, taking over until it was something he probably didn’t even realise was there.
The need to turn this fucking car around and drive back to him, demand he get in the car, and scream at him all the way home, but still, take him home…
Fuck!
“Why, you stupid bastard?!” I howled, wishing I could claw his eyes out. I could behave like the ice queen in front of him, but when I was alone, the reality hurt like hell. I missed him more than I’d admit to anyone, and I was so fucking mad I was going through this pregnancy without him.
It was his fault, but I was mad I’d never tried therapy or something—anything—just so he didn’t fuck that whore.
No,that’snot on me. No, no, no.
That’s on him.
I sniffled, furiously wiping my tears away.
Would this pain ever go away?
His pleading rang in my ears, and I couldn’t help but remember how my hand twitched, how I’d wanted to reach back for him when he’d reached for me.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to calm down, but it was pointless. I was going back to our empty house that was too stubborn to sell itself, meaning I had to live in it without him.
God, I was so fuckingangry. At him the most, but also at myself. This wasn’t good for the baby.
I needed to calm down.
I counted my breathing—one, two, three, four—then held it before exhaling slowly. I’d read somewhere it calmed your brain down even if your body wouldn’t.
And my body wouldn’t.
