by MV Ellis
“You know I don’t mean it like that, but he’s my best friend and my rock. He’s been there for me time and time again.”
“I know.” But I want to be her rock, and the alpha dog in me will probably always want to kill him. I pull her down onto the couch next to me.
“I was monstrously sick in early pregnancy. I had just passed the worst of it the last time we were together, but the exhaustion had taken a toll. You saw how run-down I was.”
I did. It worried me at the time, but I never would have guessed why—I had no reason to suspect she was pregnant. Not least because I associate pregnancy with gaining weight, not losing it. I just assumed that the situation with Marnie was getting to her. It was a fair assumption under the circumstances.
“Still, none of that justifies my behavior. It’s all just excuses, and really, there is no excuse. It was a low act, and I’m truly so, so sorry. When I arrived in Sydney and told my parents what had gone down, they were absolutely disgusted and horrified at my behavior. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father so enraged. To the point where I’m actually surprised they didn’t turn around, drive me back to the airport, and bundle me onto the next flight home, that’s how ashamed of me they were. Rightly so.”
I angle my body toward her, bending one leg up on to the sofa, my side pressed against the back cushion. As though on autopilot, she mirrors my action so we’re facing each other. I literally can’t stop looking at her. I slide one hand along the back of the seat. With the other, I reach out and tuck some stray curls behind her ear that have escaped from the messy bun on top of her head. She hesitates as I lower my hand to rest on hers in her lap.
“I’d like to say I was big enough to see the error of my ways as soon as they pointed it out to me, but unfortunately, that’s not the case. You know how stubborn I am.”
Ha! Nobody knows it better than me. It takes one to know one, after all.
“The only people I know who are worse than me in that regard are you and Marko. Even when it did sink in just how wrong I had been, I couldn’t admit it, not even to myself. I was crippled with… I don’t know… fear? Shame? I didn’t know how to get out of the corner I’d painted myself into. I read each of your messages to ‘Squirt’ over and over, and I really wanted to respond, but I didn’t know what to say. How the fuck do you explain to someone else what you can’t even fully understand yourself? How do you apologize for something as hideous as that from so far away?”
It’s obviously important to her to clear the air and set things straight in her own way. As difficult as it is for both of us, I let her continue, silently offering her my support and reassurance by gently rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb. As I listen intently, my mind is dominated by one thought, repeated over and over: I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care. I don’t care what happened to bring us to this point, I just care that she and Squirt are here now. Everything else is just noise.
“It took me watching that gig, seeing the emotion on your face and hearing those lyrics, to see what a raging bitch I’d been. I had to put my big girl panties on and fix it before there was nothing left to fix. I played this so badly—to think I’m going to be somebody’s mother in a few months, and here I am behaving like a selfish child myself. I’ve woken up to myself now, and I really I hope it’s not too late.” She searches my face, so desperately in need of reassurance. She looks so fucking defeated. I want to comfort her but can’t get my shit together enough to organize the thoughts going through my mind. Instead, I shake my head mutely. It will never be too late.
“You got the tattoo of the hummingbird in the summer.” It’s a statement, not a question. Her voice is little more than a whisper.
“Yeah.” I stroke the spot where it sits on my chest. Even fully clothed, I know exactly where it is—over my heart. I’ve traced my finger around it more times than I could count.
“You don’t have it in that video.”
“No. Here.” I keep stroking her hand, reaching into the inside pocket of my leather jacket with the other one to retrieve a piece of paper. Withdrawing my hand from hers to unfold it, I pass it to her. Her eyes scan it quickly, and she looks at it quizzically, then back to me.
“I have to admit I had no idea specifically when that footage was taken, but I always knew it was before you and I were together. Look, I know I’ve said it before, but I want to confirm it to you again. I broke things off with Marnie as soon as I realized I had feelings for you. Once we were done, I never thought of going back there, even for a second.”
London opens her mouth to speak, but I press my fingers to her lips, shaking my head, and continue.
“In fact, she was the first person I told I was in love with you. I am in love with you. The whole time you’ve been away, I’ve had lawyers and a private dick on the case trying to get to the bottom of what the fuck happened, and….” I point to the piece of paper in London’s hand.
“What’s this?” A deep frown settles on her face as she searches mine again.
“It’s a report from the private detective looking into the case.”
She looks down at the paper again. She clearly still has no idea what I’m talking about.
“To cut a long and boringly technical story short, every photo or video we take on our phone has its own set of unique identifies like fingerprints that are saved in cyberspace. Clever techy people can access that data and tell a whole lot of stuff about the image or video, like what device it was taken on and exactly where and when. The piece of paper you’re holding is the metadata for the video of Marnie and me. The lawyers have had this information for a while now, but I only thought of it again after the gig and after I knew you were coming home. Look at the date.”
She scans the paper again, frowning even more. I see the exact moment she zeros in on the date. “It says it was recorded on October 21, last year, at 2:38 a.m.”
“Yeah. It was before we even met.”
Her expression clouds over. Uh-oh. I thought this would be good news.
“Listen, Arlo, what I was trying to say before you stopped me was that you don’t owe me an explanation. The video was a shock, of course it was, but I was totally out of order in my reaction. You were right when you questioned my trust. I told you I trusted you. Told you I loved you. Then at the first hurdle, I threw it all back in your face, then didn’t even have the guts to admit that that’s what I was doing. I shouldn’t have needed anything other than your word to believe what you—not some metadata, not a court case. Your word should have been enough. You’re right, you’ve never given me any reason to doubt your love or loyalty. In fact, you’ve shown me time and time again with your actions that you love me and are here for me, no matter what.”
None of it matters. “It doesn’t matt—”
“No. Stop. Don’t let me off the hook. It totally matters. If I were dealing with me, I’d have kicked me to the curb by now and walked out the door. I can’t believe you’re still here.”
“I’m right here, Tog. There was never an option of me being anywhere else. This is where I’ll always be, for as long as you’ll have me.” Longer.
“Well, I had to go all the way to Australia to figure out it’s where I want you to be, so I guess you’re one step ahead of me.”
Ha! Not even close. London’s been holding all the cards since this thing of ours—whatever we’re going to call it—started. I might be the one with the means and opportunity to pull out the grand gestures sometimes, but she’s the one who calls the shots, and I have a feeling that’s the way it’s always going to be. Honestly, as long as she’s in my life, I’m happy with that.
I look down, getting my first proper view of London’s baby bump. I felt it pushing against me as we hugged before, but I haven’t had a chance to really take it in until now. Wow. That’s definitely a bump, all right. Either that or she swallowed a basketball. The rest of her looks more or less the same, but there’s definitely no mistaking that belly. I’m amazed at how much it�
��s grown in the weeks since she left, and I love seeing the physical evidence of the new life we created growing inside her.
“So how’s everything?” I point to Squirt.
“Everything’s fine. Better than fine. We’re both doing great. Now that I’ve stopped puking up a lung several times a day and am no longer falling asleep at the drop of a hat, I feel good too.”
I can’t help but smile.
“That’s amazing, Tog, well done.”
“Thanks. I haven’t really done anything, but I’m so happy and relieved. I don’t know what I would do if everything wasn’t okay.”
You and me both.
“Can I?” I point to Squirt again, hands outstretched. London nods slowly, and I reach out farther, placing my palms on her rounded stomach. Holy. Motherfucking. Shit. I’m hit with the most intense wave of emotion I’ve ever experienced. Pride, love, fear. Who knows what else? I briefly wonder if that hormonal shit can affect fathers too, because right now I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I look to the side, not wanting London to know how overcome I am, but even with my head turned, I’m sure she can’t miss the shit-eating grin spreading across my face.
The seconds tick by, and just as I’m about to remove my hands for fear of making London feel awkward, she lightly presses hers down on top of mine. I turn back to look at her and see similar emotions to mine reflected in her features. I truly don’t know what to think about that, but I know I really fucking want to kiss her. I remove my hands from beneath hers before I do something we’ll both regret.
“I have a car waiting. Shall we go?” I can’t bring myself to break eye contact.
“Uh. Yeah, okay, let’s do that.” She looks away. What’s on her mind?
I pick up London’s abandoned carry-on and lead her out to the waiting car, where our driver has already loaded her checked baggage. As the car wends its way to the city, the two of us sit in the back in amiable silence, neither feeling the need to fill the space with inane chatter. There is so much I want to say to her, and to ask her, but I decide to take things slowly. I don’t want to spook her.
In the end, it’s London who breaks the silence.
“Umm… we just missed the exit. Where are we headed?”
“Home.” I keep my tone neutral and my eyes straight ahead.
“So, like I said, we just missed the Brooklyn turnoff.” Her frown deepens.
“I meant to Rosemond House. Our house. I asked you to move in, and you said yes, remember?” I tell myself to act as normal and casual as possible. We haven’t discussed our living arrangements now that she’s back in the country yet. I don’t want us to get into a fight straight out of the gate, but there’s no way in hell I’m accepting anything other than the two of us, then the three of us, living under the same roof. On the other hand, now that I have her back in the same hemisphere, I don’t want to spook her. Gently does it.
“Of course I remember, but that was before….” The sentence hangs in midair.
Before the video. Before her already flimsy trust in me was shot to pieces.
“Anyway, I know I said I want you in our lives, and I do, but I’m not ready to move in at this point. Not even close. I mean, my feet have barely hit the ground. I need time… I think it’s best if I go to my place. I can settle in, get back on track, and we can take it from there.”
“Yeah… um… about that.”
“What, Arlo?” Suspicion weighs heavily in her tone.
“It’s a surprise. Just a little while longer, and all will be revealed.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
We pull into the underground garage and when the driver kills the engine, there’s an awkward moment where we both sit still as statues. Finally I get out of the car and help her out too, leading her into the house.
“Arlo, I really—”
“Shhh… I need you to trust me one more time. I get that it’s a big ask, but….” I look into her beautiful eyes, trying to gauge what she’s thinking, but I can’t get a read on her. She looks back at me for a few beats longer before speaking.
“Okay. I must be fucking crazy, but okay. One more time, Arlo, and that’s it. If I don’t feel comfortable, I’m out of here, right?”
I nod. I get it.
We enter the elevator and I press the button for the third floor. London looks at me in the mirror, raising a questioning eyebrow. I keep my expression neutral in return. She’s going to have to trust me, just like I asked. As we step out into the hall, clearly her curiosity gets the better of her.
“Arlo, what’s going on? Why are we here?”
It’s a fair question. The kitchen, dining room, formal sitting rooms, and family room are below us; the guest bedrooms, bathrooms, and den are above. My bedroom and en suite bathroom occupy the penthouse. She’s just going to have to wait to find out what’s going on.
I push open the door to my office and encourage London inside ahead of me. The room is dark, so she walks in hesitantly. I get the impression that she thinks I might be about to do so something truly weird, like lock the door and run away with the key, chanting, “It rubs the lotion on its skin! It rubs the lotion on its skin!” She couldn’t be more wrong.
Turning toward me, she speaks again.
“I can’t see anything. Can you pu—” I flick on the lights and take in her astonished expression. I guess she has every right to be shocked. She turns around in circles several times before addressing me again, this time with a note of anger in her voice.
“Arlo. What the fuck? Why does this look exactly like my room at home?” Her eyes narrow suspiciously. I guess if I think about it from her perspective, it is a little creepy to go away for months and return to find your bedroom has moved to the other side of the city without your knowledge or permission.
“You mean at Marko’s place?”
“I mean at home. That apartment isn’t just Marko’s place, it’s my home too.”
“Semantics. Either way, have you thought about how it’s going to work with a baby there? Marko may be your best friend, but I’m sure he didn’t sign up to be a surrogate daddy. I mean, a child’s going to seriously cramp his style, right?” Her face drops, and I feel a little mean for laying the situation out to her in such blunt terms.
“Did he say something to you?” Her eyes narrow. So I guess she knows we’ve been speaking in her absence.
“Not in so many words, but let’s just say that he didn’t put up much of a fight when I suggested this arrangement.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right.” She looks miserable “Why would he want to be surrounded by a screaming infant and shitty diapers? The thought hadn’t even occurred to me before, but he didn’t say anything either.” I can see the cogs of her mind whirring as she considers the situation. “So how did you get all this here? Please don’t tell me you went rifling through my shit.”
“No, Marko and Nic—”
She looks more than a little relieved. I don’t know why. She’s carrying my baby, and I’ve rifled through her underwear and a lot more besides. What does it matter if I’ve looked through her panty drawer? And for the record, I have looked, but she doesn’t need to know that. At least not anytime soon anyway.
“Nic was in on this too? She’s sneaky. She was hanging with me in Sydney for a little bit and got back here last week. I spoke with her yesterday before I left to come home, and she said nothing at all about this, not even the slightest hint. Sheesh, with traitorous friends like these, who needs enemies?”
I think she’s only half joking.
“It’s not like that. As much as I want to throat-punch Marko a lot of the time, okay, all the time, there’s no denying that he’s a good friend to you. They both are. It’s obvious they want the best for you. How does being stuck in a two-bedroom apartment with a small baby and a man-whore qualify as what’s best for you or for Squirt?”
“You mean as opposed to being stuck in a mansion with a tiny baby and a man-whore?” Her sharp tongue obviously hasn’t mellowe
d in pregnancy, but I can’t help but chuckle. She’s wrong though—I’m a recovering man-whore these days.
“Touché. On point as ever, Tog, but I have a feeling that even without Squirt on the scene, Marko’s rooming days are numbered. I get the distinct impression that he might want or need his place back sooner rather than later. Isn’t it better that you settle in somewhere now before Squirt comes along than to go through the upheaval with a baby in tow?”
“I guess, but what makes you so sure he wants to live alone?”
“I didn’t say alone, I said he might not want to share his space with a roommate. There’s a difference. From what I can gather, he’s been spending a lot of time with that redhead.”
Understanding dawns slowly on her face.
“Oh, of course, Jourdan. You’re right. Things seem to be getting sort of serious between them. Ugh. Why didn’t I think of the implications sooner?”
“Because you’ve had a lot on your mind, and you’ve been on the other side of the world.”
“True, but still I should have thought things through better than I clearly have. Anyway, Arlo, this is fantastic. So thoughtful and considerate. I love that you did it, and you’re totally right about Marko’s apartment, but I can’t just move into your spare room. I’ll have to start making alternative arrangements.” She’s leaning against the doorframe looking pensive. It’s a lot to take in, I know. She’s just landed and her head must be spinning—jet lag might even have already started to set in, and I remember from touring together that she wasn’t great at coping with time zones.
While she thinks it all through, I have to fight the almost overwhelming urge to sweep her up, throw her down on her bed, and fuck her raw like the Neanderthal I am. I push the thought aside and concentrate on the matter at hand—and trying to calm my raging hard-on.
“You don’t have to say yes or no now. Jus—”
“I do, and it’s a firm no. We’ve only been on the same side of the world for like a half hour. As I said in the car, I want you in our lives, for sure, but living under the same roof isn’t the wisest natural next step from where we’ve been. Doing it just because I may have to move out of Marko’s is even less of a good idea. If this is going to work between us, we need to take it slow. We have a lot of rebuilding and reacquainting to do, whatever ‘this’ even is.” She’s right about the reacquainting part, at least. My dick really wants to get reacquainted with her pussy, like yesterday.
