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“So…” She takes a tentative step forward and looks down at her feet and then back up to me. “I have to tell you something.”
The shake in her voice has me jumping out of the chair. There’s only one other time that she was this nervous with me and that’s the day we got married. There’s nothing that we don’t talk about, we’re open books with each other.
Most people don’t meet their true love when they’re in high school, but I did. I knew I would marry her one day and when we graduated, I proposed and we were Mr. and Mrs. within months.
Now, at the age of twenty-two, I was just starting my career in the police force and we had set up home, a family home.
Emmy was working for Ma in the vet’s clinic, but she wanted to go back to college at some point and become a vet, which I fully supported.
I’d support anything that she wanted to do.
“What is it?” I ask, a frown on my face.
“Well, I know we didn’t plan for this…” She looks up at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “At least not yet, anyway.”
“Okaaay.”
I lift my hands to her face, cupping her cheeks and making sure that she’s looking at me, capturing her eyes and telling her silently that whatever it is, we’ll tackle it together.
“I’m pregnant.”
My eyes widen, I’m almost sure they’re going to pop out of their sockets.
We hadn’t planned for this to happen. I was at least meant to make it to detective first, Emmy was meant to be going back to college. We were going to build a good foundation before we brought another life into this world. But as I look down at her stomach, I can’t help but feel like this was meant to be.
We were meant to meet each other, meant to get married and meant to have this baby now instead of in a few years’ time.
I crouch down in front of her and press my lips to her stomach, shivering at the thought that there’s part of me growing inside of her right now.
Her hand swipes through my hair, her fingers gripping the brown strands softly and tilting my head back. I look up at her face, tears silently stream down her cheeks.
“I love you,” I choke out.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
I lift my hands and slam them down onto the steering wheel several times, trying to let out some of the anger and frustration that I’m feeling. Why the hell did I let that happen?
I swore to myself months ago that I’d never sleep with him again and we both agreed that it was too much to keep coming back here, both of us regretting it after it happened.
Although I have a feeling that I regret it for a completely different reason to him.
I hate being the doormat, the piece of ass that he can pick up and drop off anytime he wants. I hate the fact that I can’t say no to him, that he renders me incapable of that word each and every time that he’s around.
Why the hell can’t I just say no?
Why do I give myself over to him so freely? Even though I know that nothing will come of it, I let him do this to me, it’s my fault that he does it because I allow him to.
I know that he feels guilty afterwards, that he feels like he cheated. But he can’t keep blocking me out and pretending that it never happened until the next time that he wants to get laid again.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist down once more for good measure then start the truck.
I need to get the hell out of here and I need to wash him off my goddamn body and try to move on, for good this time. I can still smell him on my skin, feel him all over me, in me.
I pull away from the sidewalk and speed down the streets, heading straight back to Wayward. My mind swims all the way there and I can’t deny how he makes me feel. How he’s always made me feel.
During those times that he’s only Charlie, the Charlie that is free and not the husband that he thinks he still should be, I know that I have his full attention, that he’s in the here and now with me.
It’s when his eyes glaze over with guilt that he goes back to the past, he’s not Charlie then. He’s only Emmy’s husband and there’s nothing I can do to make it better, nothing I can do to stop it from happening. Staying around him only makes it worse, reminding him of what we’ve done. I learned that early on and now if it’s not me who escapes, it’s him.
