by Lynn, K. I.
“Oh, Jenna, I’m so happy for you.” I really was. She was a little wild and crazy, but Jenna was my person, and all I wanted was for her to find happiness.
“Brent, well, he’s the first non-Asian guy I’ve dated that really seems to like me for me and not as some stereotypical geisha fantasy or manga character.”
“Aww, that…I just…” And cue the tears.
Jenna leaned forward and wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay, hormones,” she said as she petted my head. “Are you hungry? Do I need to feed the momma?”
“It’s not that,” I sniffed. “This stupidness started happening. I’m just so happy to see you so happy. Brent is a good guy and I’ve seen the way he looks at you like you’re his whole world.”
She smiled at me. “Turns out New Year’s Eve was quite a night for both of us.”
I nodded. “You know, with Brent’s towering height, your kids might end up a midrange height.”
She held her hands up. “Whoa, who said anything about kids? We’re not there yet.”
“Neither was I,” I said as I pointed to my growing bump. “One time is all it takes.”
“I still can’t believe it happened.” She leaned down and made cooing sounds at my belly while petting me.
I just laughed. “Me either. But, I just look at it as my destiny. Maybe this was the way to get us to come together.”
“Speaking of Richard, where is he?”
I blew out a breath and sank back into the cushions. “Work. Something came up. He said he’s going to try and come down after.”
“After?”
I swallowed hard and stared down at my belly, my hand gently rubbing. In almost three months, it wasn’t the first time it happened. With all the days he cut out to see me that first month, work caught up with him and now we were paying the price.
At least that was what I told myself. I tried not to let the little negative thoughts enter, but I couldn’t help it. Maybe work didn’t catch up, but maybe he got caught back up in work.
I plastered a smile onto my face. “It’s okay, really. He should be here by dinner.”
Jenna pursed her lips, her eyes in slits, just like her favorite emoji besides the laughing one. It was a look that said, “you’re full of shit and I see right through you.”
“Come on,” she said as she leapt from the couch.
“Where are we going?”
She tugged on my hand to help me up. “We need pedicures.”
“Shit,” I hissed as I looked at the clock.
When I last glanced to the lower right of the screen, the morning sun was bouncing off the window from the other tower, but now the sun was streaming in the window. My blood went cold. I was supposed to put out the fires, then head to Natasha’s, but at almost five in the afternoon, I began to wonder if I would still be welcome.
After a half second of thought, I picked up my phone and my heart dropped at the two text messages I’d missed.
Are you on your way?—Natasha
Please call me. I just want to know you’re okay.—Natasha
The second one was an hour old.
Work had once again taken me from Natasha, and I knew someday she wouldn’t be as understanding. In fact, I was pretty certain if I wanted her to open the door, because calling or texting was not an option at that point, groveling would be involved.
Immediately I shut down my laptop, but left it where it was. If I showed up with it, I knew I’d be a dead man. As I gathered my bag and headed down to my car, I began to formulate my apology.
On the phone the night before, she told me she’d been craving Mexican food. Right then, that was my way in.
I sped down the interstate, weaving between the unending line of trucks on I-65. There was a serious need for three lanes, and I couldn’t understand why there were only two.
I called up Keenan and asked him to help me find a restaurant to get take-out from, and in short order I was able to place an order and pick it up. The drive was made in record time and included the stop.
I rushed to grab my bag and the food and headed up the sidewalk to her door and knocked.
When the door opened, I drew in a sharp breath. Her hair was up in a messy bun and she was dressed in what I knew to be her favorite comfort clothes—tank top, lounge pants, and a chenille cardigan.
If I had a tail, I was certain it would be tucked high up. Fuck. That look in her eyes tore at me. I should have left sooner. I should have pulled myself away, but in the moment it seemed so important.
More important than her.
However, looking at her, at the redness around her eyes, I began to wonder what was so important that it would keep me from her?
Natasha was like fresh air. Every time I saw her was almost like the first time all over again.
And even with all that, the thoughts crawled in. The dark ones that cornered me when I was in Chicago and far from her. They didn’t want the warmth that filled my chest when I was around her. They wanted to put walls up to keep her out.
That darkness wanted walls all the way to the upper stratosphere to keep those feelings at bay.
“I brought tacos as a peace offering. With queso and salsa. And some ice cream.”
She tilted her head and pursed her lips while she decided, but the rumble of her stomach gave her away. “Fine, but this will pay for your entrance in and nothing more. I’m not some booty call.”
I stepped forward, confident she wasn’t going to stab me, though her gaze kept me a little on edge. Leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers, but the response from her was lackluster. She was angry, and rightfully so, but I hoped the food would soften her up.
After setting my overnight bag down, I moved to the kitchen and pulled dishes down from the cabinet and began spreading the food onto the plates. She sat at the table, watching me, waiting.
I set the plate of chicken tacos on the table in front of her along with the container of queso and a bowl of chips before returning for the lime slices and sour cream, and to throw the ice cream into the freezer.
“How was your day?” I asked. Her head shot up, and she raised a brow at me.
She let out a moan at her first bite, and when she finished the first taco, she dipped a few chips in queso before answering me. And I’d learned it was in my best interest to wait for her response, especially when she was hungry.
“Aggravating. Because I was waiting for you, I was left on edge all day. Hannah wanted to go to yoga, and I said no, because you were due any minute.”
“I’m so—”
“I don’t want to hear that. I want to hear what was so important that you couldn’t keep your promise. And I know what is going on at Annex, so no bullshit.”
“I have obligations that you don’t know about.”
“Way to be vague.”
With that, she stood and took her plate, tossing it into the sink before heading to the bedroom. I waited a few minutes, expecting her to come back out, but she didn’t.
The gap between us grew into a larger expanse.
The next morning I woke up on the couch, my back killing me. The bedroom door was still firmly shut. I didn’t even try to crawl into bed with her. I deserved to sleep on the couch.
My whole body was stiff and I ran my hands down my face. When was the last time I’d been so thoroughly in the dog house?
I wasn’t even sure I could blame her.
Time and time again, I let work repeat the same hijack.
While the Mexican food the night before got me in the door, it didn’t make up for work corrupting me again. Breakfast was my way to get back in her good graces enough that maybe she’d talk to me.
It was barely half past six, and I went to the bathroom, quiet not to wake her while I brushed my teeth and threw some water on my face. Afterwards I surfed multiple menus until I found something she would like. And if that didn’t work for her, I ordered three other things off the menu.
I placed the order, and then quietly opened the door to the bedroo
m. Soft little snores alerted me to her still-sleeping state, and I snuck out the front door, making sure to take her keys so I could lock the door.
The food was due to arrive in half an hour, giving me just enough time to hit up the coffee shop. I arrived back before she woke, but the doorbell going off a few minutes later roused her.
She had a grumpy little frown on her face when she stepped out of the bedroom, her hair a mess, sticking everywhere.
I thanked the driver as I took the bags from his hand, then shut the door.
“You’re still here,” she said. I wasn’t sure how to take it as her voice was part awe and part she devil, and I really wasn’t sure which one was winning out.
“Where else would I be?”
She shrugged. “Asleep on the couch in your office?”
Ouch. That hurt, but it was a truthful hit.
I placed the bags on the table, then grabbed the cup I’d gotten for her.
“Good morning, beautiful,” I said as I handed it to her.
Her brow furrowed as she took it, bringing it to her nose for a sniff. “Hot chocolate?”
I smiled at her. “Yes.”
She stared down at the cup. “You got me hot chocolate?”
I nodded and picked up a bag from the table. “Chicken fried steak, eggs, gravy, and hash browns with wheat toast.”
“You got me hot chocolate,” she repeated, ignoring the menu I’d selected.
“Did you want coffee? I didn’t think you could really have that and you ordered hot chocolate last time we were out, I just thought…” I trailed off. Had I royally fucked up? Was hot chocolate about to be thrown at me?
A tear rolled down her cheek and she sniffed. “You got me hot chocolate.”
“Was that okay? If not, I can get rid of it.”
She shielded the cup from me with her hands, turning it from my outstretched grasp.
“Back off.”
I held my hands up and retreated backwards. “If the chicken fried steak isn’t what you want, I also got pancakes and bacon, and an omelet and biscuits and sausage.”
She quirked a brow at me. “Did you order the whole menu?”
“Almost.”
She took a tentative sip of the hot chocolate in her hand, a moan leaving her. “So good.” She stepped over to the table and took a seat.
I took that as a good sign and grabbed some plates and silverware before pulling out the containers. She greedily took a little bit of everything, and I smiled that for once this weekend I’d managed to make her happy.
“I’m sorry,” I said as she stuffed a bite of pancake into her mouth. She stared at me, chewing slowly as she waited. Hot chocolate got me the in, and breakfast got me the conversation, but it was up to me to get her. “I work a lot, and I let it intrude on our time. Sometimes there are fires I just can’t ignore, but I also know there are some that can wait. I need to pick better battles, because you are the most fearsome opponent I’ve ever dealt with.”
“I’m supposed to be your partner in crime, not your battle opponent.”
I nodded. “You’re right.”
She took another bite, her eyes never leaving mine. “And your solution is?”
My solution? I reached across the table and put my hand on hers. “The only battling I want to do with you is in the bedroom.”
“Well, if you want hot make-up bedroom-battling sex, you need to turn your phone off for the rest of the day.”
I blinked at her. It was a simple request, but as I stared at my phone, at the fifteen new emails since I’d left the office and three text messages, I struggled. Turning the ringer off I could do. Turning the entire thing off?
She stared at me, waiting for my decision, and as much as I hated it, there was only one answer. One way that I would return to her good graces. I held down the button and watched as the power screen flashed by, the chimes played, and then the screen was black.
The previous weekend was a shit show. He slept on the couch that night while I cried myself to sleep. All I wanted was him. All I needed was him. To be present, to be mentally with me, to support me, but he’d checked out. The once-doting boyfriend was gone and in his stead was the VP.
In the morning he ordered breakfast and I was moved when he handed me a hot chocolate. It was a nice gesture, and I tried to find an even ground. Still, it was hard to let go of how emotional I’d become about it all.
I made him turn his phone off, and for a few hours it was just the two of us again.
However, as the days rolled on, that bitch had her claws in him again. He arrived the night before near ten, having not left until five local time. I wasn’t feeling well, so we opted for a stay-in day, and I curled up on the couch while we binged a show on Annex.
I could accept the occasional bleed of work into our weekends, but the bleed was nearly all the damn time. Half of the time he was still at the office during our evening calls.
I’d offered to come up for the weekend, but he dismissed the idea, saying he needed to get away from the office and he didn’t want me driving. I wasn’t sure about the driving part, but I did give him brownie points for the getting away from the office bit.
However, the office followed him, and when his phone went off for the third time since we had sat down for dinner, I let out a sigh as he pulled it from his pocket and read the screen. His fingers rapidly moved across the keys.
“Sorry. Again,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “You were saying?”
“I was saying that the gender ultrasound is two weeks from today. I scheduled it for five on Friday afternoon.”
He nodded, his mind clearly wandering again. It had been happening a lot lately, even coming through during our daily phone calls.
“What is it?”
He shook his head and tried to plaster on a smile, but it just wasn’t reaching his eyes. Something was bothering him and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t get it out of him, which only ignited my own fears and reservations.
Was he questioning us? Me? The baby?
It had been growing for weeks, but it took a huge leap the previous weekend. He’d made it obvious work was more important than me, and no amount of tacos and ice cream or hot chocolate were going to make up for it, no matter how good they were.
“I was looking at some places today,” I said, trying to break through some of the awkward tension that filled the room, though I had begun to wonder why I was trying so hard.
“Places?”
“Yeah, that neighborhood Jenna and I were looking at. They’ve had a couple new condos completed.”
He made a small humming sound and nodded. It was aggravating. He didn’t engage in the conversation, and if he couldn’t engage in conversation about where I was going to live, how could I talk to him about the baby? About the other issues going on?
I was supposed to be watching for things that made my blood pressure spike, and the biggest issue was sitting across the table from me.
He was showing little interest in me or my life, and that was why I hadn’t told him about my blood pressure issues or the baby moving. He seemed to have lost interest.
Our kisses lacked the spark they’d once had. My stomach knotted and I tried not to think about why it was missing, but the worry persisted. The separation I felt was on multiple levels, like a disconnect at the core. It left me unsettled and unsure of what to do with those feelings.
There was a pit in my stomach and a fissure formed in my heart.
“I need you to tell me something,” I said as we lay in bed that night.
“What?”
“Am I someone you have feelings for, or am I just an obligation?”
His eyes widened, and he reached out to cup my face. “You’re not an obligation. I…I care a great deal for you.”
“What does that even mean?”
His brow furrowed. “You mean a lot to me, Natasha. So much.”
None of the words did anything to assuage the despair that had taken up residence i
n my chest. There were no declarations of love, just a vague assurance of caring.
I meant a lot to him. He cared for me. Those were things you said to a friend or someone you liked, not someone you’d been in a steady relationship with for over three months and were having a child with.
I nodded and bit down on my lower lip in an attempt to keep the tears at bay. He wrapped his arm around me and in minutes, he was asleep.
I laid awake, tears silently slipping down to the pillowcase. I could feel the heat coming from his body. Though with me physically, he was no longer with me mentally. His priorities had changed somehow, and work was once again the ruler, while I was the afterthought.
The mistress.
The first month or two we were together was nothing but pure happiness and I thought I’d found my soul mate, but the last month I’d begun to seriously question if he’d even be around when the baby came.
And the pain in my chest only served to remind me that I was utterly in love with a man who couldn’t put me first in his life.
June 5th
Two weeks. That was how long it had been since I’d seen Richard. Two horribly long and gut-wrenching weeks.
Two weeks of thinking about where I stood. I had my answer, but I didn’t want to admit it. We were in two different places, literally, and he was never going to let work go.
I stared at the clock on the wall of the doctor’s office watching as the seconds ticked by. They turned into minutes, and still no Richard.
He promised.
He promised me that he would be here. This, of all appointments, this was the one for him to make an effort to attend, to show me that he was in this with me. With each second that ticked by, the more I realized that he wasn’t coming.
I’d barely heard from him in days, and it had been two weeks since I’d seen him, as work had kept him busy the prior weekend.
After a few minutes, my phone buzzed. My stomach sank, and I knew my fears were true without even looking. Tears filled my eyes, and I blinked them away just in time to hear the door handle turn and see the doctor walk in. It felt like I was on autopilot driving to one of the most important appointments, and I felt off. We went through all the usual checking-in stuff. How were things, had I had any more dizziness, blah, blah, blah.
