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And I didn’t need another reason to wish that the triple Scotch I’d poured myself last night had dulled my senses.
Wandering around the house, I moved to the couch, plopping down and halfheartedly logging on to my work computer. A few minutes later, I’d seen enough to know that I wasn’t needed today.
Apparently, that was the theme of the week. Instead, I turned on the television to some of Cici’s useless baking shows, letting my mind drift.
It went first, of course, to my son. But that was instantly too painful to dwell on, so I rushed past that to finding Peyton wrapped around Peter.
Peter and Peyton. They even sounded cute. And however unorthodox Peyton felt like they might be, all I saw was the way Peter smiled at her during our meetings.
I frowned. I’d pushed her towards this. Maybe I’d done at least one good thing these past weeks.
Because relationships were fucking hard. And if you wanted them to work, you had to try. A lot. I ran my hands through my hair.
What now? How did I fix years of an apparent trauma response?
Therapist? I mean yes, that would be the logical fix. Everyone in California had been to a therapist at one time or another. But that was something long-term.
I didn’t have long-term. I had four months to get my shit together. Because there was no way that my son was going to come into this world without his mother knowing exactly how much I loved the both of them.
Swallowing my lurking anxiety, I picked up the phone.
“Katie? I need your help.”
***
Chapter 24
Cici
I hated being right. In the weeks since our twenty-week ultrasound and Brady’s proposal gone wrong, I’d gotten more accomplished for Grove Communications than in months beforehand.
I was a powerhouse, job-winning, marketing machine in maternity leggings. And while the thrill of the win drove me on and on, things had changed.
Ihad changed. I didn’t spend my nights staring at my laptop like pre-baby Cici had. Instead, I spent those evenings registering for baby clothes with Beth and Ashlyn or scanning online mommy message boards.
Beth told me to stay away from those, but the drama was heavily addicting, and I found myself logging on nightly to see what was happening between Mum4187 and BabyLuv’s debate over when to wean their collective children.
But I knew it was a distraction. Something to consume my time and my brain so that I missed him a little bit less. Not that it worked. Nothing did completely.
He still texted me. Usually every Tuesday, a quick message would arrive on my phone, asking how this week was going and saying to call him if I needed him. But other than that he had kept his distance.
Just like I’d asked. And for once in my life, I wished more than anything that a man didn’t do exactly what I asked.
Because as time went on, I found myself wondering more and more that perhaps Brady’s broken pieces might fit precisely against mine. But shit, I wasn’t perfect. I was controlling. High maintenance.
Yet, it had been good with him. It’d been worth the work. And I missed that.
I had Ashlyn spy on Brady. I wasn’t proud of it, but since I was already this far in, I couldn’t stop myself from begging her. She and Peter had been meeting at Leden today. I was eagerly awaiting her insider info.
Plucking a jar of salsa from the counter and my bag of chips, I dragged myself across the room to wait for Ashlyn. When she arrived, it took her all of two seconds to plop down and begin to gorge herself on chips with me. I glared at her.
“I’ve been waiting all day for this.”
“For what?” Ashlyn played dumb, twirling a chip in the salsa between us. Humming happily as she stuffed chip after chip into her mouth.
I frowned. Now she was doing this on purpose.
I grabbed the plastic bag, holding it away from her hands as I waved a finger in her face. “I will ruin your wedding.”
