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“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 upward. To disguise his moment of weakness, he moves his hand toward 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.
Twelve
The plan to visit my parents came to a screeching halt when Jason called to inform me that the apartment has 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 is coffee’s bitch.
Yes, I am that tired.
I contemplate calling him back, but I’m weak and extremely aroused. The stupid what-to-expect-when-you’re-expecting books were spot on. My hormones have 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.
“Long time no speak,” he greets warmly.
My body involuntarily sinks into my bed at the sound of his voice. I miss him, I miss his voice. I can almost smell him over the phone.
“So, it’s sold? I’ll sure miss this place.”
“The buyers are a young couple. Nice enough. Anyway, they want to move in next month.”
Add more stress to my growing ball of stress twine. “That’s quick. I’m half packed. I guess it shouldn’t be a problem,” I respond calmly.
There is an awkward silence, and I hear a shuffle over the phone. “So how have you been?”
“Good,” I reply. “And you?”
“Yeah, good. I’m seeing someone,” he admits quietly.
“I figured. You’re something special, and it was only a matter of time.” I smile into the receiver.
He laughs, and it’s familiar and comforting. “And you?”
I had thought about telling him about the baby but decided against it. It doesn’t matter anyway. He has moved on. Sooner or later, he will find out, but for now, I’m downright exhausted and can’t find the energy to have that long-winded conversation which will probably end up with me in tears.
“No, still single. Just working and stuff.”
We talk for another hour about work, family, and life. It’s like visiting an old friend, and during the conversation, it becomes even clearer to me we made the right decision. He hasn’t changed one bit, but that’s Jason. Happy to live in the same bubble, just screwing someone else instead of me.
In my mad rush to find somewhere to live, Vicky comes to my rescue. She has a friend living not too far away who has a room available. Her name is Kate, and she’s renting the apartment from a friend. I call her first thing on Monday and have a long chat about the room and apartment. She’s super nice, and even with her British accent, I sometimes have no clue what she’s saying.
We agree to meet at her apartment later in the afternoon so she can show me around.
“So that’s the kitchen, and just over on the right will be your room.”
