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Without turning around, he stops, posture slumped, and his head falling forward. “Katerina. She’s named after our mom.” The sadness lingers in his tone, and after a quick moment of silence between us, he walks to his car and drives off.
As soon as his car is out of sight, the baby begins to stir.
What the fuck do I do?
Okay, breathe.
Take her inside, that will be the first step. I grab the carrier and the bag beside her, a balancing act which has me almost dropping the carrier. Placing the carrier on the lounge, I sit beside it and gaze at her face.
I have no connection to this kid. I thought that when you have babies, you supposedly look at them and became overwhelmed with this love that’s impossible to explain.
My anger toward Milana overshadows this moment.
How the hell did she keep this from me?
We were careful, used protection most of the time. I recall her telling me, ‘She takes the pill religiously,’ and she ‘Has no interest in starting a family,’ Odd, yet I respected that decision at the time. I only brought it up occasionally because I thought that’s what all women wanted to hear, and keep her, I had to sacrifice a little, or a lot.
But this, this is fucking unbelievable.
And how could she abandon our kid?
What type of monster has she become?
“Baby, where are you?” Felicity calls out, stumbling on the bottom step of the staircase and lunging forward to the floor. With a delirious cackle, she searches the area, locking eyes with me in the living room.
“Who the hell is that?”
I keep quiet. I need to process.
“Wesley… who is that?”
“Mine.”
“Yours? Is this some sort of sick joke? Let me see.”
Felicity moves closer, naked and barely able to compose herself. Armed with a look of disgust, she complains, “Jesus, Wesley, get rid of her. What a killjoy.”
This woman, an accessory to my over-indulging lifestyle, is the wake-up call I desperately need. A snippet of my life—what it has become and who I have become. The more she breathes in my space, the more I’m revolted by the person I’ve allowed myself to be.
This is exactly what Milana envisioned.
Why would she want me? A man who depended on pills, drugs, and anything that will erase the fucked-up life I built for myself.
I don’t know what comes over me, this protective beast who wants to unleash on Felicity. With a deliberate slow breath, my teeth clench upon saying, “Leave.”
Chuckling at what she thinks is a joke. “You want me to leave?”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out,” I bellow, almost lashing out. “Take your fucking dirty ass out of my house. Now.”
Crossing her arms to cover her fake tits, she huffs at my request. “You wouldn’t dare do this.”
This time, I laugh, foolishly. “Try me. Now get the fuck out.”
I remove my attention from her and back to the baby. She stirs, again, no doubt from our raised voices. I don’t have the nerve to remove her from the carrier but know I will need to, eventually.
Felicity shouts profanities into the room, dressed and with a bag in hand. I ignore her spiteful comments, welcoming the silence after she slams the door behind her.
Then, the panic sets in.
