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“Please tell me you didn’t? That’s nine shades of illegalness.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t. I stopped myself, but I wanted to.”
Oh boy, did I want to. And it wouldn’t even take me long to pull up her information – it’s there in the computer. Full names, address, birthdate of her and her son.
“Is that the foreign chick? The uptight looking one dragging her kid everywhere?”
“Probably.” Poor kid.
“And Mitch had an affair with her? Sheesh, if you’re going to screw someone, at least let them be like something out of a fantasy. She’s a dog.”
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to laugh or cry at the thought. “Allegedly he had an affair, Amber. Allegedly.”
“What did the loser have to say about it?” Amber had zero tolerance for cheaters. Her father cheated on her mother, repeatedly. Then her last boyfriend really did a number when he messed around. She only found out about his affair when she came down with a mysterious STD and had to have the talk with the jerk. Now, even if infidelity is so much as hinted it, her instant revulsion for the cheater in question is epic.
“First off, he’s not a loser. I love him with all my heart.” Mitch was my guy. We had dreams. Not married ones though, but still the together forever kind. A couple of weeks ago we’ve even discussed the possibility of getting a dog. Only couples who were serious about longevity in their relationships did that, right?
“Just because you love him doesn’t make him a stand-up guy.”
It was true, but I didn’t want to think the worst of my sweet guy. “Well, he has been since I’ve known him.” I paused and wet my mouth with the bubbly soft drink. “And secondly, he hasn’t said anything about it. She got off the plane and introduced him as his son.”
“Yep. Guilty.” She shook her head and rose up to her full height. “Why’s he not talking about it? Because he’s guilty.” She punctured the air with the stab of her finger. “Why can’t guys commit? All of them, losers. Class-A losers.”
“Awe, Amber. Not all of them are.”
“Yeah, well, between you, Mom and me, we’re not batting a 400.” Her baseball terms went right over my head. “The jerk’s not talking about it, eh?”
“I think he’s in shock.”
She tipped her head back as she laughed. “Yeah, shock that he got caught. Excuse me.” Waltzing over to the other end of the bar, she mixed up a drink for a tall, decent looking guy.
He tipped his ball cap in my direction. “You look like you need a drink. Can I buy you one?”
“Sorry, not interested. I have a boyfriend.”
“Your loss, pretty lady.”
I wanted to gag. Gross.
Amber walked back, lifted my glass, and gave the counter a wipe down underneath. “Whatcha going to do about it?”
“I don’t know. It is wrong how the whole time we were together I never worried about that? Figured by time we had kids, Mitch would be all mine and I wouldn’t have to share?”
“Is that what’s really bugging you?”
I couldn’t answer. If I did, the threatening tears would fall.
Growing up, I had to share everything. It was thecommune way. My clothes were fine for someone else to borrow, and vice versa. We shared the food we grew, and no one had any attachments as materialistic items were in rare supply. So, we shared and shared alike, including my parents who were part of a free love type of commune, and were encouraged to have sex with anyone and everyone. Of course, I had a biological dad, but I also had many half siblings, two from my mom and three from my dad. By numbers I had a big family, but I never had anyone to myself. My bio dad was off donating sperm everywhere possible, and my mom was willing to be impregnated by any and all.
I didn’t want that for Mitch and me, which when I found out I was pregnant, it made me so happy to know this child was going to get a father 100% of the time. Until Jasmine stepped off the plane and popped the perfect little bubble I’d hoped for.
Chapter Six
I left Amber’s not in any better state, in fact, I think she wound me up more. By time I got back to the apartment, my feet were sore from stomping all the way home. I waited for Mitch to come back, but try as I might, I couldn’t force my eyes to stay open.
When I awoke in the morning, I was still on the couch, but I was covered up. Stumbling down the hall, I spotted his keys in the dish, so I went into our bedroom. Mitch was passed out on the bed, arms splayed to the side as he hogged 90% of our queen bed. I climbed in beside him and hovered my hands above him. He rolled over and his breath about knocked me flat on my ass; it reeked of alcohol.
I punched him in the arm. “Get up.” It took a couple of attempts, but he finally responded. “Get up!” I shook him with a little more force. “You’re going to be late for work.”
