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I have to stop myself from telling him I did want that kiss. I’ve wanted that kiss for years, and now, it’s tainted. But if FC isn’t worried about it, then I guess I shouldn’t be either. Right? Maybe. “Thanks, FC. I don’t know if you’re right, but you made me feel better.” For the time being at least.
“That’s what I’m here for. Be safe on the drive back.”
“I will.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. No matter what FC said, I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that we crossed that line while we’re in relationships and how FC didn’t seem to care that he did such a thing while with Lila. It doesn’t make sense to me. At least I have something to worry and obsess over while I work and over the weekend.
Things are quiet as expected when I walk into the apartment. The last thing I want to do after last night is wake her up and start an argument before work. The door to the bedroom is closed and I’m not about to open it. Instead, I lie down on the couch and try to catch a little more sleep before another day of hell begins.
When I wake up, it’s to the smell of breakfast. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. To delay the inevitable, I disappear into the bathroom for a quick shower. One thing this experience has taught me is to never discount a woman and her hits. There’s a bruise on my back from where she hit me yesterday when I was trying to leave.
What in the world caused me to love her at some point? Hell, how was I able to like this woman? And now, lord help us all, I’m having a baby with her. Maybe lightning will strike and kill me dead. Or maybe I’ll be able to drink myself to death before the baby gets here. All I know right now is I have less than nine months to do it.
Lila sits at the small kitchen table when I decide I’ve dilly-dallied enough and meet her. There’s a plate at the seat next to her, waiting for me.
“Thanks, babe,” I mumble as I sit and begin to eat.
“I already called and got an appointment with the doctor for next week to find out how far along I am and everything. It’s Tuesday. You’re coming with me, right?”
“I have to work.” Nope. My new tactic is to pretend this isn’t happening for as long as possible.
“Well, take off. This is important.”
“Nothing happens at the first appointment.” Hell if I know what happens at the first appointment, but I won’t be there regardless. “You’ll be fine by yourself.”
Her stare burns holes into my head. All of a sudden, her hand flies out and my plate goes airborne, crashing into the wall as eggs, toast, and sausage fall to the floor.
“Wasn’t that hungry anyway.” I stand, leave the mess, and find my tequila to pour a shot.
“You aren’t allowed to drink anymore.”
I snort. “Like fuck I can’t.” How else does she expect me to deal with her? Lila reaches for the shot glass, but I lift it to my mouth and drink the tequila before she can grab it from me.
Her eyes narrow. “If I can’t drink, neither can you.”
“Shouldn’t have knocked yourself up then. You can vicariously drink through me, but I’m not stopping.”
Lila yanks the bottle of tequila from my grasp and begins to pour it down the sink with a victorious smirk. I lean against the counter and fold my arms over my chest.
“There’s more at the liquor store, babe.” And that’s not my last bottle. I have two more hidden in this apartment for emergencies and there’s a flask full of it slipped underneath the couch. As that thought hits me, I realize that probably means I’m not just an alcoholic, but one with a serious fucking problem.
“You aren’t allowed
, FC,” she warns.
“Don’t give a fuck what you say, Lila; if I want to drink until I’m passed out on the bathroom floor, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. If you want to be able to drink, get an abortion. Your problem will be solved.”
The slap is quick. I see it coming a mile away, yet it still turns my head a full ninety degrees and stings like a motherfucker.
“Don’t you dare tell me to get an abortion. I’m having this baby one way or another. If you don’t want it, leave.”
“You mean that?” I ask.
She nods.
I quickly catalog what items I have here. What’s important? What can’t be replaced? Absolutely everything can be replaced. I didn’t bring anything important with me; that’s in storage at my parents’ house. With that settled, I turn on my heels and head for the door.
“Where are you going?”
