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Saying goodbye to everyone is difficult in the state of anger I’m in, but I manage to plaster on a fake smile, doing my rounds till I can go home and officially climb into a dark hole.
This isn’t going to work. This complete stranger walks into my life and every time we are in the same air space as each other, it ends disastrously. I totally blame him. Immature and stubborn like the rest of that generation. Jason, on the other hand . . . he was mature. Polite, respectful. That means crap all right now because it isn’t his sperm doing laps in my uterus.
I don’t attempt reading, hoping the exhaustion will knock me out. Staring at the dark ceiling, my mind is playing tricks on me and when the light of my cell brightens the room, I welcome the distraction.
#Jerk: I don’t know what I’m thinking when I’m around you. Seeing your stomach tonight was a reality check. I don’t know how to be a dad.
I quickly type the first thing that comes to mind. No filter from this hormonal pregnant woman.
Me: I’ll book the appointment first thing next week. You’ll get your answers. Then I’m off to visit my family for a few days. You don’t have to see me which is probably for the best.
Just when I place the cell down on my nightstand, I hear a knock on my door. Late night knocks aren’t exactly safe, unless of course Vicky’s been out on the town. So, armed with my frying pan and baseball bat for safe measures, I walk towards the door and stare through the peephole.
It’s him.
I unlock the deadbolt and pull off the chain to open the door. He is leaning against the door frame, with no jacket and his hair a wild mess. I can’t detect any alcohol on his breath and his eyes appear crystal clear behind his frames.
“You don’t need to do the test. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“Too late. You did, and well, maybe it’s for the best.” I cross my arms, noticing his stare fixated on my tank that is semi see-through. He’s a guy, they are like magnets to boobs, and my boobs could qualify to be their own planets right now. Don’t read anything more into this, Presley Malone.
Quick to bring his tortured gaze back up to my face, he carries on. “I want to come with you to visit your family.”
Shocked by the change of subject, I stare back at him oddly. “Why would you want to do that? They know the whole story.”
“Because they need to meet me. I’m going to be around their grandchild every day. Surely that counts for something.”
Did he just tell me he’s going to be around the baby every day? This is getting more complicated by the minute. I am confused, to say the least, plus it’s after midnight and well past my bedtime. No good could come from this conversation.
“I really don’t think—”
“I’m going. Either you tell them I’ll be there or I will,” he threatens, eyeing me dubiously.
“Are you threatening me?” I raise my voice.
“Honestly Malone, why do you have to be so fucking stubborn all the time?”
I call defeat. “Fine. Your funeral. My dad once shot a deer on top of the mountain range from our front porch. Just saying.”
He appears amused, the corners of his lips curving upwards, and to disguise his moment of weakness, he moves his hand towards his stubble and rubs his chin gently.
“I have a black belt in martial arts. Plus I can wrestle a boar in the wild. But’s that a story for another time.”
I let out a small laugh. Maybe this won’t be so bad, and just maybe there is a side to him that I haven’t seen yet.
But that’s the thing about maybes; they leave you with a ray of hope when chances are you’re bound to get hurt one way or another.
Chapter Twelve
The plan to visit my parents came to a screeching halt when Jason called to inform me that the apartment had sold. It happened late Sunday, and I missed his call while taking the longest nap that ever existed. Fatigue is a bitch. My new routine gym effort was proving difficult, as was my ability to curb my coffee cravings. Tea was coffee’s bitch.
Yes, I am THAT tired.
I contemplate calling him back, but I’m weak and extremely aroused. Stupid What to Expect When You’re Expecting books were spot on. My hormones had turned into a sorority of college boys all trying to get me to succumb to a wild orgy. I knew if I talked to Jason, I would invite him over one last time and take him on the kitchen bench, armed with a tub of maple syrup.
Cravings are also a bitch.
But texting can only get you so far, so I swallow my pride, hormones, and all the other crap, and call him.
