by Nikki Ash
I open the door and Marco comes storming inside. “Where the fuck is she?” he booms. His eyes are bloodshot and glossy, and it’s clear he’s high as a kite. I see Bella hiding behind the door, looking terrified, so I try to stop him from coming in.
“Marco, you need to calm down, man.” While I’m built from years of working out, Marco is a UFC fighter. He slams his fist into the door—pushing it open—then stalks inside looking for Bella. When their eyes meet, he starts spewing out insults, calling her a bitch, and accusing her of ratting him and his drug problem out to his dad.
We’ve all known for some time he has a drug problem, but because of how it started—his best friend driving them home from the club after Marco won his title fight, wrecking the car, and being put into a coma, while Marco was injured so badly he couldn’t fight—we’ve made excuses for him, hoping he would get it together. Judging by the shit he’s saying, Bella must’ve told his parents what’s going on.
I cut him off before he says anything else to Bella. “You do have a fucking drug problem. Bella was just trying to help. We’re your friends.”
Marco barks, “She’s not my friend. She’s nothing to me.” Then he looks at Bella. “You have enough problems of your own to be worrying about me. Focus on your fucking self.”
Bella’s eyes go wide and she begs him to leave.
“Why? Afraid pretty boy here will learn the truth? Or wait…did you end up doing what I suggested after all?” His eyes drop down to Bella’s stomach and a horrible feeling comes over me.
“Bella, what’s he talking about?”
Marco laughs. “Oh, this is great! You had time to call my fucking dad and stir up shit, but you forgot to mention to your best friend here that you’re knocked up.”
I’m shocked as shit because I didn’t even know Bella was having sex. Sure, she’s my best friend, but we don’t exactly do girl talk. I’m trying to get my head wrapped around the fact Bella is pregnant while Marco continues to spit shit out about her having an abortion.
“So, Bella”—Marco laughs humorlessly—“tell us. I mean you got in my business, so it’s only fair I know yours.”
Bella’s head drops slightly. “I’m having the baby.” I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s obvious Bella doesn’t want to say who the father is—or maybe she doesn’t know or he doesn’t want the baby.
“And who’s the lucky guy? Who’s the guy who’s fucked for life?” Marco questions.
I see the tears streaming down Bella’s face and the words come out before I can stop them. “I am, so worry about yourself.”
“I call bullshit,” Marco hisses
“You can call whatever the fuck you want. I was just shocked you knew. Now get the fuck out. Bella’s baby is mine.”
Of course this is the moment when Gina decides to come out of the room. Her hands go to her mouth and tears well up in her eyes. I have two options: save Bella or save my relationship with Gina. I choose Bella and I continue to choose Bella for the next seven months.
Chapter Three
Tristan
Micaela’s Birth
For the last seven months, I’ve been there for Bella and the baby she’s carrying. I never asked questions. She needed me, and like I’ve done our entire lives, I stood by her side, because even though she only sees me as a friend, I love Bella. Am I in love with her? I’m not sure.
The thing about Bella is she’s easy to love. When you’re in her circle, she’ll give you all of her, and that’s why, when she needed me, I chose to give her all of me. I know, without a doubt, Bella would have done the same thing for me, no questions asked.
But as I stood there, after having our daughter ripped from my arms because she needed a blood transfusion due to severe anemia, I realized maybe I should have asked questions. When she told me the father didn’t want the baby, I left it at that. Did she technically lie to me? No. But she kept a huge detail from me. When I lied to everyone, saying the baby was mine, I had no idea who the real father was.
Marco.
Marco is the father of Bella’s baby.
The guy who I almost beat the shit out of for turning his back on his baby and Bella.
The guy who just spent ninety days in rehab getting clean so he could be a good dad.
The guy who was rushed somewhere in the hospital to donate blood to save his daughter’s life, and he could do that because his blood type is the same. And like a punch straight to my face, it hit me, I’m not the father. As much as I love Bella and this baby girl who I watched grow in her mother’s belly for the last seven months, I am not the father. Marco is.
And fuck if that didn’t change everything.
I screamed.
Marco yelled.
Bella cried.
Our parents begged us all to calm down.
I left.
Marco stayed. Because Marco is the dad.
When I went back to talk to Bella, I found her and Marco holding their baby like a happy fucking family. Like he didn’t tell her she was dead to him. Like she didn’t keep the fact he was the father from him. Like he didn’t tell her she should abort her baby. Like she didn’t lie to everyone and say I was the father.
And the visual of the three of them is what led me to the bar where I am currently getting shitfaced, hoping to forget everything that has happened in the last seven months.
“You planning to drive?” the bartender inquires as he hands me my sixth, maybe seventh, double shot of Johnnie Walker Black.
“Nah, I’ll get a cab,” I slur, and even I can hear the drunkenness in my voice.
“You want some company?” I glance to the left of me to see none other than my ex-girlfriend, Gina. I don’t bother to acknowledge her. It’s not that I’m mad at her. I’m just mad at the world and she’s part of the world.
She doesn’t say anything else, just sits next to me and orders herself a Coke.
For the next few hours, I get drunk while Gina keeps me company. She doesn’t say a word and neither do I. I don’t even know what I would say. When the bartender makes the ten minutes until closing call, I take a good look at Gina, her jet-black hair and banging fucking body, and think about what it would be like to get lost in her. It’s been seven months since I’ve been with a woman. Seven months of stroking my dick in the shower.
“What?” she asks, giving me a shy smile.
“I want you.” I’m drunk as fuck and the words come out slurred, but I think she gets the idea because she smirks and stands, throwing a couple bills onto the bar.
I stand as well, my head fuzzy, and reach into my pocket to pay my tab. I have no clue how much it is or how much I have, so I throw a bunch of bills on the bar.
I follow Gina into the bathroom, and before she can even lock the door, I’m on her. I have her body pressed up against the sink with my dick pushing against her.
“Tristan, fuck me now,” she begs, and I don’t question it. Grabbing her hips, I lift her, her skirt scrunching up to her waist. I push her panties to the side, and then unbuckling my pants just enough to pull my dick out, I thrust into Gina over and over again, not sure if she’s getting off, not sure if I’m getting off, just focusing on one thing: Getting Lost.
I wake up, and with one eye, I check out my surroundings. My head is pounding and I feel drunk. Drunk? And it all comes flooding back to me.
Bella.
The baby.
Marco.
The bar.
Johnnie Walker.
Gina.
More Johnnie Walker.
Fucking Gina.
Fuck! I fucked Gina. In the bathroom of the bar. In her kitchen. In the shower. In her bed. I look at the bed and her side is empty, but on the nightstand there are empty drug baggies and a pipe. Guess she’s still the same woman she was seven months ago…
Grabbing my cell phone from the nightstand, I see it’s only seven in the morning. No clue how I woke up this early, but knowing I need to talk to Bella, I make my way to Gina’s kitchen
and take a couple Advil to help my hangover. I wash my face and teeth the best I can, and call a cab to take me to the hospital.
I get there and Bella is awake with Marco sleeping next to her. The anger that I’ve been keeping at bay hits me. This guy chose drugs over her, over their baby. I was there for her. I chose her. And what does she do? She lets him back into her life without giving it a second thought. Doesn’t she realize he’s going to hurt her? And when he does, does she expect me to be there to pick up the pieces?
And what about the innocent baby stuck in the middle of all this?
“Hey,” she whispers. “How long have you been here?”
I walk farther into the room, the door shutting behind me. “Just a few minutes. We need to talk.”
She says okay and allows me to say what I need to say.
“I know there’s nothing between us and I finally accept that, and while I am pissed you kept her paternity from me, I want you to come home. I want you to raise her in our apartment. I don’t trust Marco. He just got out of rehab. What if he relapses?”
“I’m moving back home,” she says, and I sigh in relief.
“Good,” I reply, relieved we’re in agreement.
“No, I don’t think you understand. I am moving back home… to Las Vegas. My parents are going to help me raise Micaela. I want to finish school. I didn’t understand how important it was until I had her. I need to make sure I can provide for her. I want to train as well. I can’t move back in with you. It’s not fair to you.”
“Bella…”
“No, Tristan. You are one of the most selfless people I know. You’ve been my best friend for as far back as I can remember. You have always put me first but I’m not going to let you do this. You deserve to be happy, to find love, to have a damn life. I never should’ve put you in this position. I’m so sorry.”
I drop my head, sadness engulfing me over the sobering realization I’m about to lose my best friend.
Marco wakes up and hears all of this. We get into an argument over Bella’s wellbeing, but in the end Bella makes it clear she’ll decide her future.
Then Marco says something that has the room feeling like it’s spinning around me. “Look at the bright side. Now you and Gina can be together.” I look at him with confusion. Does he know we hooked up last night?
“What the fuck does Gina have to do with this?”
“She’s the one who told me about the baby, that she’s mine.”
“What did you just say?” I ask slowly, trying to wrap my still half-drunken head around what he’s implying.
“She came to me three months ago and said I was the father. She showed me a letter Bella wrote to Micaela and it stated I was the dad. Gina said she knew you didn’t cheat on her, and she asked me to take responsibility so you two could be together again.”
Bella tries to explain and Marco gives me his bullshit excuses of why it’s taken him so long to come forward, but I can’t deal with any of this. I need to get out of here—away from Bella and Marco. Away from Gina and her meddling fucking ass. I need to just get away.
But before I leave, I take one last look at the sweet little girl who’s innocent in all of this. “Goodbye pretty girl.” I bring two fingers to my lips and press them to her forehead. Then I walk over to Bella and give her a kiss on her forehead as well. “I need some time, Bella.”
“Please tell me I’m not losing you, Tristan,” she pleads.
“Right now, I can’t tell you anything.” And it’s the truth. I need time to figure out where my life goes from here. Her eyes well with tears, but I ignore them.
“Okay.”
“Let me call you,” I insist before I walk out the door and out of my best friend’s life.
Chapter Four
Tristan
The Next Night
I’m lost and confused and alone. Mason is in town and staying with me, but when he asked me to join him at the club with some friends from the gym, I declined, needing some time to figure out where to go from here. I don’t know how to handle my anger and resentment. I don’t know who it should be aimed at: Bella. Marco. Gina. Myself.
Deciding I need some answers from Gina—needing to hear her side of the story—I head over to her apartment to see if she’s home so I can confront her. I park in the guest parking spot and make my way up to her apartment. There’s loud music playing inside, and when I knock, the door opens up on its own.
“Hello?” I yell over the music. Dozens of people fill the smoky apartment, the smell of weed permeating my nostrils. As I make my way through the swarm of high and drunk people, who are laughing and dancing, I almost consider joining them. Maybe Gina has the right idea, trying to escape reality. Maybe all of these people are onto something.
“Hey, have you seen Gina?” I ask a random guy who’s snorting coke off the table.
“Probably in her room.” He nods toward the hallway.
When I get to her room, the door is partly open, so I open it the rest of the way. There’s a guy I recognize from the parties she’s dragged me to—her friend Janell’s brother, I think—the drug dealer—sitting on the edge of her bed. His pants are down and his dick is out. Only I can’t see his dick because Gina’s entire mouth is covering it as he presses his hand to her head, pushing her head down farther until she gags, her throat making a convulsing noise.
“Hey!” I shout, and his eyes dart up to me, his hand not leaving her head. “Get your hands off her.” At my words, Gina looks up at me and stumbles back onto her ass. I rush over to help her up, but the guy stands, blocking me from getting to her.
“Mind your own business,” the guy says, smirking. “She’s working off the shit she bought from me tonight.” Fuck! I had assumed he was forcing himself on her, but I was wrong.
“Gina.” I sigh. “Is this guy serious?”
“Oh, come on, Tristan, don’t start with your judgements. You were drunk and fucking me last night.” She stands and stumbles around the guy. The front of her shirt is down, her tits hanging out.
“Yeah, I had a bad fucking day! I got drunk and had sex with my ex-girlfriend. You’re whoring yourself out for drugs. Don’t do this shit. Get help.”
“Screw you, Tristan,” Gina sneers. “You don’t know shit.” I look into her glossy eyes and have no idea why I even bothered to come here. She’s so high, there’s no pulling her down, and it’s obvious I’m not going to get answers from her.
“You need to go,” the guy hisses. He sits back on the bed, his dick now flaccid, and guides Gina back onto her knees. She doesn’t even bother acknowledging me again.
I shake my head and walk out the door without looking back. I’m done trying to play hero, when the truth is, I’m having a hard enough time trying to save myself.
Chapter Five
Tristan
Two months later
Gina: We need to talk.
Me: There’s nothing to talk about.
Gina: I’m pregnant.
“Fuck! This shit can’t seriously be happening right now.” I throw my phone at Mason, shaking my head. I should’ve known better than to think moving to Los Angeles would mean a fresh start. One thing about your past, that bitch follows you everywhere you go.
“Shit,” Mason curses under his breath. “Maybe it isn’t yours.” He stands from the couch and tosses the phone back to me. “There’s only one way to find out. Get a paternity test.”
Me: I’m living in LA now. I can meet you in a few hours.
Gina: I just need money for an abortion. Don’t make this more than it needs to be.
As sick as the thought of Gina being pregnant makes me, the idea of her aborting something that could be a part of me makes me even sicker.
Me: Please don’t do that. That baby is half mine.
Gina: Could be…
Of course this is how she wants to play it.
Gina: I lost my apartment and I have nowhere to go. I need to have an abortion.
Me: I’ll come get you.
Please don’t do anything until we talk.
“I have to go get her. She’s threatening to have an abortion.” I look at Mason and he glances back at me.
“I’m not saying I’m in favor of aborting a baby, but would that be such a bad idea in this situation? Do you really want to be stuck raising a child with that drug whore for the rest of your life?”
“It’s a baby…possibly my baby.”
“Okay, yeah, I get it. Go get her.”
Chapter Six
Tristan
Three Months Later
Tristan,
It’s obvious you’re never going to be with me. I’m done trying to play Betty Homemaker with you. Ivan might be the dad so I’m staying with him until I know for sure.
Gina
As if things couldn’t get any worse… the possible mother of my baby is shacking up with her drug dealer, who also might be the father. Fucking fabulous!
Chapter Seven
Tristan
Four Months Later
It’s been nine months since the last time I sat in the hospital, in the labor and delivery unit. Granted, this time I’m in a hospital in Los Angeles, whereas last time I was in San Diego. This time, I’m waiting to find out if I’m the father, whereas last time I knew without a shadow of a doubt I wasn’t the dad. This time, I’m praying I’m not the father, whereas last time I was praying by some miracle I could’ve been the dad.
