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Chapter Fifteen
Dad and Haden left early to go hunting, leaving us girls for the day. Mom thought it would be swell to take us shopping.
Jumping from store to store, the three of them “ooh” and “aah” over anything baby related, while I just sit in the corner of the store allowing my tired feet to rest. Shopping and pregnancy do not mix. I am ready to say yes to everything that they shove at my face just so we can get out of here.
“So, Pres, have you made a list of all the things you need?” Gemma asks, holding up two sailor outfits.
I cringe at the outfits. “No.”
“Stop the press! You’re so anal with your lists and your need to be organized,” Melissa points out, this time holding up two lamb onesies which, I have to admit, are adorable.
“Just busy and stuff.”
“Presley Malone. Since when are you ever this blasé?” Mom takes the sailor outfit from Gemma and places it in her basket.
Great. My kid is going to look like one of the Village People.
“Mom, I’m busy with work. I don’t have time to plan these things. I’m sure there’s some website that with a click of a button will deliver everything to my door.”
The three of them stare at me, wide-eyed in shock.
“What have you done with the real Presley?” Gemma inquires, raising her eyebrows at me curiously while holding up a cowboy outfit, frills and all. I shake my head in disapproval.
“Why are you all making a big deal out of this?” I answer defensively.
“Because you’re having a baby. It’s the biggest deal there could ever be,” Mom intervenes.
Now they’re ganging up on me. I can’t please anyone, and right now that diner across the road with the awesome banana fudge sundae is the only thing I can think about.
“Are we done? I’m hungry.”
The three of them nod and pay for the items before we head out of the store. They don’t raise the subject again, and they don’t realize that I’m completely terrified. Every day I’m experiencing something new, whether it’s exciting or unpleasant, and even though I’m surrounded by family, I feel so alone. Even more so after the Jerk’s willingness to abandon the intimate moment between us, proving again that he’s unreliable.
The banana fudge sundae is a temporary cure before we head back home to pack. When Dad and Haden pull up in the old pickup truck, I greet them outside, instantly hit by a god-awful stench.
“What the hell is that?” I scowl.
“Don’t look in the back, Poodle.”
Too late. I do and run straight for the ba
throom to empty out the contents of my stomach. There is a gentle tap on the door, followed by an, “Are you okay . . . Poodle?”
“Go away, Jerk!” I yell, head in the basin, saying goodbye to that banana fudge sundae.
I don’t realize the door has opened, but I hear the gentle creaking sound as the door is shut. My stomach is still weak and the Jerk grabs all my hair and holds it back with his hand. Whether it’s because of the road kill smell or his caring gesture, I hurl one last time into the toilet. Flushing it, I sit back on my knees, facing away from him.
“Do you need me to get you anything?”
I shake my head as he continues to hold onto my hair.
“I think I puked in my hair,” I almost cry.
He leans in and I think he is smelling my hair. “It still smells like coconut.”
“Coconut? Oh, that’s my shampoo to stop me from looking like Diana Ross.”
This is awkward. Do I tell him to let go of my hair? Then I remember last night and how he so easily just ignored what happened between us. I shuffle my head to the side and loosen my hair from the grip of his hand.
