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“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see how much he cares,” he says.
Extended Epilogue
Eight Months Later
Wes
The past few months have been pure craziness. I guess having a baby is always going to be a scary and hard process, but it didn’t hit me straight away. While we basked in the glow of our engagement, Zooey and I spent a few months together taking things easy, planning a wedding for after the baby’s arrival, and discussing names for our unborn child.
But when Zooey began to show, things changed. Chaos ensued, taking over our lives. I took some unpaid leave in order to get the house ready. Since Zooey has been on maternity leave, there’s been so much to prepare for, including buying all the supplies for the baby...clothes, furniture, diapers, mushy baby food...you name it, we bought it. My once tidy mansion has now become host to everything baby related under the sun. I thought it might bother me, but as it turns out, it’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever experienced.
Zooey had her baby shower last week with her close friends from drama school and the shows she’s performed in. Zooey’s mother was there too, who took quite warmly to me from the beginning, to my surprise. I never expected to be eating sugar cookies with my ex-best friend’s ex wife, after all. But we got on like a house on fire, and it was almost enough for Zooey, seeing me and her Mom together there, to mask the space her absent father left at the party.
He never replied to the texts that we sent him. There was more than one...plenty of opportunities for him to respond. But he never did. I guess we should have known that he would let her down, like he has a million times before, but Zooey really got her hopes up. It’s crushing to see how much this has affected her.
Still, life goes on. The baby is due in two weeks time, and Zooey is managing to distract herself from her let down of her father. She’s been busy organizing every detail of the birth. We’ve booked a private room for her to keep her comfortable on the big day, and she feels prepared for it, with or without the support of her father.
I’m watching her now, her feet propped up on a chair as she rubs her stomach, and I still can’t believe how badly she’s been treated. I thought her father might have stepped up, but it seems he’s not even capable of that. I tried to get Zooey’s mother to speak to her father, but she refused to interact with him, and who can blame her? She was treated terribly by him while they were together, and I can see how she would think it’s better that he isn’t in her grandchild’s life. Even if it does break Zooey’s heart.
I sit down next to my beautiful fiancée and stroke her hair. She closes her eyes with a smile and allows me to fuss over her. She loves it when I touch her hair, so I keep doing it in the hope that it will relax her. The doctor said that she’s seemed stressed lately, and I can’t help being furious. It must be because of her father not getting in contact with her. I think it still stings eight months on because she’s coming to the realization that this is it. He’s not going to change his mind.
“Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?” I ask her gently, trying to distract myself from my anger. Right now, I feel like I could rip her father’s head off. She sighs, opening her eyes and stroking her swollen stomach once again. I’m certain I’ve just made things worse, though I’m not sure how that’s possible.
“I hope it’s a girl,” she mutters. “I don’t want her to turn out anything like my father.”
The comment stings a little. It’s like she’s lumping in all men with her scumbag father. But at the same time, I get it. Our child will have some piece of him in them. He’s their blood relative, after all. I wish now that we’d decided to find out the sex. I’m scared of how she’s going to feel if it is a boy that she’s giving birth to after that comment.
“Wait here for a second. Put your feet up and relax,” I tell her, curling my hands into fists. She looks up at me with innocent eyes.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“I have to make a phone call,” I growl as I leave the room and head straight upstairs to my office. I pick up the phone and dial a number I’ve been avoiding for over a year now.
I haven’t called my old office since I left the job there, but this is the last straw for me. I’m going to get ahold of her father no matter what it takes. Even if I have to lie about who I am, I’m going to make him face up to his cowardice. I’m going to make him pay for hurting my woman.
