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“When have I put my job first with you? If you can name one fucking time, then you might have something to bitch about, but you don’t. Even then, what I did over five years ago with another woman has no relevance in our relationship.” I stand upright and put the space between us. “What you did before you met me? Has no meaning in our relationship either as far as I’m concerned. Stop worrying about the past and focus on how you’re fucking things up right now. You keep testing my patience, Deanna, and I’m running out of it. You either want to be with me and you work through it, or you don’t and you walk away. And if you’re sure you want to be with me, you don’t ever fucking run.
“You commit. You go all in. It doesn’t matter how scared you are or how many doubts you have. You stay. It’s the only way to make it worth your while.” I walk over to the steps. “I have to go. You make up your mind once and for all. And for the record, I’m not the kind of asshole who dumps you because you’re pregnant, but it’s nice that you wondered if I would.” I walk down the steps and get into my car without glancing back at the porch.
Pissed doesn’t begin to cover how I’m feeling right now. I might not choose to give everything my full attention, or commit to it one hundred percent, but when I do, I don’t back down from any challenges that arise along the way. I’m all in all the time. And I don’t like others who aren’t. I didn’t figure Deanna to be one of those people who committed and then half-assed it. That’s essentially what she’s done by running.
That is not how you handle things. Was she even thinking when she ran out? When she read each of my texts, was it easy for her to ignore them? I don’t understand what kind of person can simply walk away from a commitment without a word. I’ve been busting my ass to make sure Deanna comes first, that I don’t make the sames mistakes that I have in the past because I want to be with her so much, and she’s done nothing but wait anxiously for the other shoe to drop. She’s the one who threw it down onto the ground!
I’ll admit my faith in myself flounders from time to time, but my faith in Deanna? It never wavered. Trusting someone else can be easier than trusting yourself. At least, I thought so. Deanna appears to trust neither herself nor me just as equally. Again, it pisses me the hell off. She’s sentencing our relationship based on my past crimes with someone else.
Grabbing my phone, I call my mom.
“Brayden,” she answers happily. “How are you?”
“What in the hell were you doing talking about Wendy with Deanna?”
Mom’s voice hardens. “Don’t talk to me in that tone of voice, Brayden. Tell me what has you upset.”
“Deanna has gone off the rails, in part because you told her more than I did about what happened with Wendy. She doesn’t trust my word anymore. Since when do you meddle and get involved when it’s none of your fucking business?” I pull into my driveway and head inside, knowing exactly what I want to do: run on the treadmill.
“I know you’re pissed, but I’m not going to warn you again. I don’t care how old you are, I’m your mother and you’re being disrespectful using that language with me. All I did was ask her what she wanted and she instead asked me what you wanted. I told her you already had what you wanted because you had her and Otis. I may have said too much, and I’m sorry. Do you want me to talk to her?”
“No. I think you talking to Deanna has done more than enough. I gotta go. Love you.” I hang up without waiting for her to tell me goodbye.
***
Otis whines as Brayden’s truck turns around in the driveway to leave. He glances at me with big, sad eyes. He’s already leaning his big body against my legs and now, he rests his head in my lap. I scratch behind his ears and bend down to kiss him on the top of his head. “I’m sorry, Otis. It’s my fault he didn’t stay long. I’ll figure out how to fix things somehow.”
He huffs, almost as if telling me I better figure it out. I glance toward the driveway, but Brayden’s truck is nowhere to be seen now. He was pissed and he seemed so very disappointed in me. He lectured me as if I should know better and startled me a bit when he got in my face. It’s not as if I was actively choosing to mess things up. All I did was react to the situation presented before me.
My knee-jerk reaction sucks, to say the least.
The relief over not being pregnant is long gone. Guilt replaced the relief. I was so focused on myself and needing to get away that not once did I consider the ramifications of my actions on my relationship with Brayden. How selfish can I be?
Pretty damn selfish, as it turns out.
Coming here was supposed to help calm me down. Instead, I lost all faith in Brayden and in myself. My thoughts spiraled out of control until I became certain that he would never put me first. He even stopped trying to contact me while he was gone. What is wrong with me? I ignore him and then damn him when he gives up?
I thought I felt guilt before from panicking over the various possible reactions Brayden might have if we were indeed having a kid? Guilt drowns me now, suffocating me and inducing a hell of a lot of panic. Despite all of this, I don’t want to lose Brayden; I never did. My head hasn’t caught up to my heart yet, and that’s what I keep tripping over. Sighing, I stand and we head inside.
There’s a stupid quilt wall hanging that your eyes naturally land on when you enter my grandma’s house. It’s covered in hearts and in the middle, so big it’s impossible to ignore, it says, “Follow your heart.”
“Yeah, yeah, Grandma. Easier stitched than done.”
How can I fix this? Maybe I should attend the game tonight. A taxi could drop me off, which would either force him into taking me home a
nd spending some time with me, or he’d ignore me altogether and a taxi could take me straight to a bar. But should I bombard him at his work? It’ll show I’m willing to work this out, right? It can’t hurt, I don’t think.
Oh, fuck it. I’ll go and hope for the best.
On that line of thought, I clean up the house and pack my things to leave. I’ve been gone long enough anyway. The quilt shop is calling my name. On top of everything else, it always makes me uneasy to leave it in the hands of someone else. This almost feels ridiculous. Never before in my life have I had to grovel before. There’s a first time for everything, I guess.
Later, I’m surrounded by Meredith Ramsey, Lizzy Polinski, Sydney Rhett, and Raelynn Woods. I texted Brayden earlier to let him know I was coming, but he probably won’t see it until after the game. Raelynn is here with Jackson and Bree, and it looks like Sydney has her kids here, too. Sylvia’s kids are here, though she isn’t. Maybe Lizzy brought them. Between them and others, the box is stuffed.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Raelynn leans over to whisper in my ear. “Elias said he doubted you’d be here. Jackson has been dying to come to a game, but I am so out of my comfort zone here.”
I smile and glance to her son, who sits in my lap, leaning forward as he gazes down at the action on the ice. “I’m glad I decided to come, too. You have a friend in me anytime.” I’ll give her my number before the night is over with.
She seems uneasy about letting the ladies fawn over Bree, but I’ve assured her they are cool, and she nodded, telling me that EJ told her they would likely do so. I’m not sure why she’s uneasy then. The babies, both Bree and Sydney’s little boy, Andrew, aren’t even the cutest attraction tonight. Not in my opinion, at least.
