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He breathed slow and even, asleep.
I huffed, half annoyed and half relieved he had passed out with his head in his hands. He may have walked out on me before, but he was here now. And that was a good thing, no matter what happened next.
I slunk back to bed, replaying the last few weeks in my mind until the early morning hours when my brain finally gave up the fight. My eyes drooped closed as the sun rose, streaking through my window shade.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SIX
Jason
I cracked one eye open, my body sputtering to life, and I immediately clapped my lid shut, a headache building behind my temples. I gradually picked my head up off the table, disoriented for a moment as the room spun. I grunted, blinking, trying to remember how I ended up asleep in Gemma’s kitchen.
Bits and pieces of last night broke through the fog, my chest heavy with the memories. I smacked my lips, mouth stale with whiskey and in need of water. I stood up, my joints cracking in response, and swayed on shaky legs to the sink, where I dipped my lips to the stream.
“He lives.”
I whirled around a little too fast, clinging to the counter to get my bearings. After rolling my neck to get the kink out and waiting until my brain had a chance to catch up, I studied Gemma—wet-haired and fresh-faced—before bending over the countertop, heartbroken and hungover.
Quietly making her way around the cabinets, she dropped two pieces of bread in the toaster and brewed a pot of coffee. When the toast was ready, she put it on a plate then placed it and two ibuprofen next to me with a tall glass of water. I gulped down the red capsules and sagged back to the counter.
“What was your drink of choice last night?”
“Jack Daniel’s,” I said around a bit of toast that was like sand in my mouth.
“Lightweight.” Her lips tipped up in a slight smile as she handed me a cup of black coffee. “Did it make you feel any better?”
I sipped the coffee, waiting as the caffeine push the blood to my brain a little faster, and picked at the counter with my index finger. “I didn’t want to feel anything. I wanted to forget. But that’s stupid, right? How do you forget that the love of your life is hiding the fact that she’s pregnant?”
I set the coffee down and cupped the back of his neck with both hands, staring at the floor, the crack running alongside the bottom cabinets. “Why, Gem? What did I do?”
“You didn’t do anything. It was me.”
I dragged my eyes to hers, tired of the excuses.
“It’s true. That’s why I couldn’t tell you.”
I dropped my hands, confusion and anger clouding my reason so I could only say, “I didn’t know I could be so fucking mad at you.”
She nodded, as if it was a forgone conclusion. As if we were a forgone conclusion, and I felt that heart attack pain again.
“My head is so…” She spun her hands by her temples. “I didn’t know what I wanted to do.”
“To do?” I repeated, the fog beginning to clear. “Like, if you wanted to keep the pregnancy or not?”
She nodded.
“Okay. Why couldn’t you talk to me about it? You hiding it makes me feel like you don’t trust me.” I swiped my hand across my pounding forehead. But I needed an answer. “Do you trust me?”
“How could I tell you? You’re always so wonderful and good at everything, and I’m a screw-up. I’m barely making it through my daily life as it is.” She threw her hands up at a sudden thought. “And I killed my goldfish! How can I raise a baby when I can’t even keep a goldfish alive?”
I couldn’t help it. A pitiful chuckle escaped from the back of my throat, and Gem threw her hands over her face.
“Let me get this straight,” I said, moving away from the counter to tug at her wrists. “I’m awesome at life, and you suck at it?”
She nodded.
“And you were afraid to tell me you’re pregnant because you killed a goldfish?”
“In essence, yeah.” She nodded again.
