Romance: Torn - Contemporary Romance (Chasing Love Series, Romance, Contemporary Romance Book 2)

by Nancy Adams

  “What if I change?” John asked quickly. Christina’s laughter shot through the air again, but it wasn’t happy, but bitter and short, strained, just like his speech. “I made an appointment for a therapist earlier today. I have an intake appointment next week—”

  “John,” Christina cut through his freefalling speech and pleas. She shook her head, unbelief on her face. Her mouth opened, struggling with several things to say at once. When she finally managed something, John’s heart nearly stopped.

  “I hate you.”

  Like a clear, crystal glass ball dropped on the ground, Christina’s stone face cracked. John saw her lips start trembling. She turned to the side, unable to keep his gaze as her eyes followed suit, tearing to the point where the water could no longer be held back. “For months you have ignored me,” she sniffed, holding her hand out to keep him at bay.

  “You’ve left me in this house by myself for days, John,” she glanced back at him, but purposefully avoided connecting with his eyes. “Again and again you have done everything in your power to convince me that I mean nothing to you,” Her cheeks were wet. “And now you mention marriage counseling?” Through a broken laugh stopped from a sob, she thrust a finger in his direction. “You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me. I hate you!” She spat her venom in his face.

  The numbness was coming back. It didn’t creep or crawl, but sped towards his heart like a fist ready to close around him and freeze John from the center of his chest. “I’m sorry,” he stuttered, barely audible.

  Christina looked him over, backing away with more disgust flashing in her eyes. “Your apology means nothing.”

  John was frozen. When did her love turn to hate? He couldn’t think of another question, glued to the tile beside the kitchen island. Christina collapsed to a puddle a few feet away from him, her tears and cries seeming to undo her from the core.

  Tina: Undone

  Chapter Three

  Unable to keep herself together, Tina had fallen to her knees, overtaken by some unseen force. She had caught a glimpse of John’s eyes and what she saw only sickened her.

  When did my love and longing turn to hatred and disgust?

  She didn’t have the answer. All she knew is that she wished he were dead. It wasn’t fair—she had finally found happiness—Brett, and this baby only threatened to take it away.

  In a puddle mere feet away from John, she tried to regain her composure. Her chest heaved with each breath she forced in order to install a fake calm over her body. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone—for a moment, she thought the pregnancy was going to be something she could hide, that she could handle before she ever had to face her husband. Now she saw that her hope had only been the delusion of her panic from earlier.

  Hearing the hatred in her own voice seemed to jerk her back to reality. There was no amount of wishing or hating that could take this reality away from her. She was pregnant, and with her husband’s baby. She wasn’t going to be able to hide it from him.

  When Tina looked towards John, their eyes snagged and stuck. She didn’t know what she had seen there, but it wasn’t the empty expression she was used to seeing. She saw a man before her with hopes and dreams crushed.

  Seeing him so undone would have brought her pleasure. After all the pain she had endured in his absence and silence, she couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted him to suffer; but, what kind of monster did that make her?

  John took a step away from her, breaking their connection as he looked towards the exiting hallway. She knew he was going to retreat to the spare. Let him go, she coaxed herself, watching him step around the island. He doesn’t have to know.

  “I’m pregnant.”

  Her better sense betrayed her as she watched a man she had once loved slink away, attempting to head for cover from her hatred. John froze near the door, and turned back to her. What she said hadn’t registered.

  “What did you say?” His voice was below a thin whisper.

  Tina looked down, seeing drops of her tears splattered on the light colored kitchen linoleum. She had a stray thought to ignore him and pretend like she said nothing, but she found herself repeating what she had said instead. “I said I’m pregnant.”

  She watched in horror as slow revelation cracked John’s face. The corner of his lips twitched, a flicker of a smile, but then it was gone. He simply stared.

  “Is it mine?”

  Tina scoffed, looking back to the tile. “Of course it is,” she couldn’t keep herself from spitting the words in his direction. She eyed him, watching relief brighten his face. His lip twitched again, a smile too scared to break the surface; and then it was gone again, as if it had never even been a thought.

  “I thought you might be happy,” she said softly. “You love making me miserable, don’t you? Anything that keeps me from happiness you just want to take,” she sniffed, struggling to keep her tears back. She could no longer see John, but knew he had moved closer to her again.

  “I want to help you,” she heard John say. His words only caused her to smirk. “I mean, I want to help us,” he spoke quickly in a voice that only sickened Tina. “I want to do whatever I can—”

  “But I don’t want to,” Tina said back quickly. She had hoped the truth would give her strength, but she felt herself on crumbling even more. “I don’t want to be with you,” she managed in a cry. With a tight fist Tina hit the tile again. She felt like a baby having a tantrum, like the a child cries when their favorite toy or hope for a sweet treat has been taken away.

  “But can’t you just give me another chance?” John’s voice was strained.

  With another sad chuckle, Tina shook her head. She didn’t want look at John, didn’t want to give him any reason to think things could improve.

  “I’ve already given you second chances,” Tina said with deepening sadness. She didn’t remember looking up, but suddenly, her gaze was locked with John’s.

  “Please,” he spoke softly with an urgent need tacked to his voice, “please, can you just give me another?” He pleaded. Tina could only shake her head. “I’ll go to counseling—you don’t even have to be there with me,” he glanced away with mounting apprehension as she shook her head again, “Then what about our baby? For them? Could you?” His voice was thin with desperation.

  Tina shook her head again, emotionless. “I can’t—I’m sorry. I don’t,” she looked away, seeing Bret’s face in her mind. “I don’t want to be with you.”

  John looked away, rubbing his hands over his face. He stopped to push on his forehead and temple. Tina looked away, sniffing. She saw that her words crushed him, and she felt like a monster for feeling nothing at all. Should it matter that it was his child? Did a child mean that her feelings and emotions were no longer valid?

  After several moments of silence, John spoke, “Could I at least go to your appointments with you?”

  Tina’s lip twitched. Did she have a right to say no? With a weak nod she answered, “Maybe one.”

  “Thank you,” John breathed, and after a pause of hesitation, he left her to pick herself up from the kitchen floor. She had sat on the tile for minutes after he had disappeared into his spare before she pushed herself to standing.

  At first, her mind could think of nothing. After a while, thoughts of Brett began to overwhelm her. They were supposed to have lunch together, but she had never called him after her appointment ended.

  Beth had come to get her from the doctor’s office. She didn’t remember much after they had told her the news initially, but when she came to, they told her she fainted. The assistants from the office and her doctor assumed it was from the dizziness she had been concerned about; but she knew it was from sheer terror. The office wouldn’t let her drive herself out, especially after she refused the prescription they had tried to give her.

  Retreating to the bedroom, Tina found her phone among the sheets. Grabbing it, she dropped her body down, exhausted. Brett had contacted her several times. His last message read
:

  [I’m starting to worry.]

  Me too. Tina smirked. She didn’t know how she was going to tell Brett—would she even need to? Absently, Tina typed a reply and pressed the send button.

  [Dr. told me to get rest. I fell asleep.]

  When her phone buzzed moments later, she ignored it, opting to lay her head on her pillow instead. The only ones that knew were Beth and John. If she could take care of this before she saw Brett again, maybe all of her problems would be fixed. She didn’t want to give him a reason to leave her.

  John: Determined

  Chapter Four

  John scratched at the white paper with a black pen. He worked quickly to fill out the paperwork while sitting in the waiting room. After his meeting with Christina yesterday afternoon, he frantically called the therapist’s office, seeking a sooner time than a week and a half way for his intake appointment. He had been placed on the cancellation list and early the next day at eight he received a call. The ten o’ clock had cancelled and he could fill that slot.

  He wasn’t sure what one appointment would do for him immediately, but he knew it was a step that he would have to take eventually. Within five minutes, the sheets had been filled out. With a worn clipboard resting in his lap, he sat eagerly, glancing at his watch and the time that displayed on the office clock, a round piece of metal and wood that hung un-centered on a wall just above a table housing the CD player playing soft background music.

  “John Robbins?” A soft voiced called.

  John nearly leapt to his feet. The woman who had spoken was emerging from the hall. She was an older woman, in her 50s. Her nose welcomed large bifocals that rested on the edge of her nose. The ear hooks of the glasses were attached to a chain that wrapped around her neck.

  She could have been any decent man’s aging wife. With a feathered brown hair, she wore a cream cardigan and pastel pink blouse beneath. Her light khaki pants completed the professional therapist look with the addition of brown loafers. Her eyes washed over John quickly: grey colored suit with black shiny dress shoes.

  She smiled, “Followed me, please.”

  John obliged eagerly, ready to leave the stuffy office. He saw a small bathroom to his right with a water drinking station. At the end of the hallway was another open waiting area, most likely for the other two therapists in the group. The older woman turned before they reached the second waiting area. On the door, a plaque read Stephanie Davidson, accompanied by a bunch of letters and titles.

  In the small office were two couches. Stephanie claimed one on the left and John moved towards the one on the right. As he sat down, he exhaled.

  Stephanie smiled warmly. “Happy to have this appointment?” She asked. John nodded, face flat. She held her hands out to take the sheets John had filled out. Silence swelled around them like an expanding balloon as she reviewed the information he had provided. When she was finished, she sat up straight and lowered the glasses from her nose to her chest to hang.

  “I’m Stephanie Davidson,” she held her hand out. John stared at it before reaching for it quickly, offering a limp shake. Nestling back into the seat, he waited. She proceeded with their meeting, starting with a list of her credentials and schooling background. She moved into a series of questions regarding his current state of feelings. They ended with a brief overview of how payment was expected.

  John didn’t care for any of it. Their meeting was 45 minutes long and already ten had been spent covering the necessities for a first interview. He felt relief burst throughout his body from his chest when Stephanie finally lowered her clipboard and asked, “So what’s the one reason why you contacted us for treatment?”

  John opened his mouth, but froze. He hadn’t called for one reason but many.

  Stephanie held her hand up, smiling again. “Well, I know you told our clerk that it was because of depression. Is there anything more you can tell me? What kind of results are you looking for through treatment with us?”

  John nodded. “I don’t want every day to be so difficult anymore,” he said instantly. With a pause he added, “And breathing. I’d like that to be easier. I don’t expect answers for life but,” he forced a deep breath, another fight to fill his lungs with oxygen, “maybe something that can help me just deal with everything a little better.”

  Stephanie nodded, just like the doctor from the previous day, a quiet authoritative move backed with years of experience and knowledge. “I’m interested in how much you say you’ve drank in the past.” John’s jaw tightened with rigidity. Stephanie flipped up a page on the clipboard. “This is quite a bit to drink during a week. Do you consider yourself to have issues with alcohol?”

  “Do you think I’m an alcoholic?” John asked instead.

  Stephanie’s mouth firmed, forming a flat line. “When’s the last time you drank?”

  John eyed her carefully, his right leg beginning to tingle. “Last night.”

  She nodded. “How much did you drink?”

  John’s jaw tightened. “A six pack,” he paused, breathing deeply. After lengthy deliberation, he added, “And the remains of a fifth I had in my room. I know what this looks like but I’m not an alcoholic,” John looked away, “I think anyone would drink in my situation,” he grumbled.

  Stephanie nodded with an ashen face. “What is your situation?”

  John turned the question over in his mind. He would have loved to start with the previous day, but he knew he was suffering long before then. John met Stephanie’s eyes. He looked for any sign of disappointment or judgment in her seasoned retinas, but he saw nothing. Her face was soft and still; she waited patiently for him to answer.

  “I think that,” he sucked in air, straightening himself against the back of the soft, cotton couch, “I think that I’ve been miserable for a long time,” he pressed his lips together. “So miserable that I’ve been willing to do whatever it took to not feel that pain,” he looked down, taking a sudden interest in the palms of his hands. “But I guess I must have drunk too much because at some point my friends stopped letting me hang around and my wife,” he paused, pain in his throat.

  He tried to swallow past the pain of the sand collecting on his tongue, “I’m pretty sure my wife is sleeping with another man. She told me last night that she’s pregnant,” a thin chuckled escaped John’s lips, “but I don’t remember sleeping with her—but she says it’s mine, but she hates me,” John met Stephanie’s eyes again. “She wants nothing to do with me. We’d be divorced yesterday if she had her way.”

  Stephanie inhaled deeply, offering her nod of wisdom. Verbally, she remained silent, so John continued. “You know, I thought she was trying to play some cruel joke on me when she said she was pregnant, like, she was throwing it in my face that she was going to have another man’s child,” John looked down, his eyes clouding with thought, “But I’m pretty sure that baby’s mine—why else would she hate me so much?” He found himself searching Stephanie’s eyes again. They were deep and thoughtful, but she said nothing.

  Looking down to the surface of his worn palms, John continued, “And then I think I felt a moment of happiness—for the baby I mean. Out of everything that was almost some good news but,” John looked away. “I don’t want to lose my wife.” He stared at the threads and cotton fuzz on top of the couch fabric. “If she’s pregnant, I want to see the baby one day,” his eyes found a slither of space between her blinds and the window. He stared at the slither beaming with light, breaking its way into the room illuminated with fluorescent bulbs and a table lamp. With sadness, he added, “I know I used to be happy, but I don’t know when or where that was.”

  John looked towards Stephanie again. He was running out of things to say. “I want to do whatever I can,” he tried to nod, to assure himself; but, he stopped, wondering if he truly had any hope. Hearing everything out loud only made him realize how bleak his situation really was. “I don’t want to lose my wife, or this baby.” Facing Stephanie, he straightened his back again, pulling his shoulders b
ack. “If coming here can,” he shrugged, a movement with more strength than before, “help in any way to move me in that direction,” John nodded, “I’d like that.”

  Tina: Desperate

  Chapter Five

  Tina reached for the folders of her case load, taking them form Julie who stood in front of her desk.

  “Just make sure you type up your assessments and have them in by Friday,” Julie said again.

  Tina offered the short, pudgy woman a smile and a nod. “Sure thing, I can get started on these right away.” Her smiled dropped as soon as Julie turned her back and headed for the office door. Shutting the door behind her, Tina sat the folders down to the right with a difficult exhalation of hair.

  She wished life for once would slow down and give her a moment to breathe, but she knew that wasn’t possible. Life didn’t stop for anyone. She didn’t have the time in her schedule to go home early like she had yesterday and she was beyond regretting the move now, although she knew she would have been useless at work if she had attempted to go back after lunch.

  Brett had called her earlier that morning. He wanted to see her again. On any other day, her heart would have nearly burst with happiness, as it had before when he had called or texted. Her world made sense in his presence, but since yesterday, after the doctor’s visit, everything only seemed to be crashing down faster than she could see herself putting the broken pieces back together.

  Tina turned her attention to her computer screen, pulling up the internet search she had done for abortion clinics. It hadn’t taken her long to find most of the information she had searched for. Being 13 weeks, she was likely looking at a cost between $700 and $1,000, something she wasn’t even concerned with. The only thing she had left was to call and talk to a representative or make an appointment. Just the thought was enough to make her sick, and she was.

  Her body flushed with moist heat. Suddenly her square office felt stuffy. Tina took a moment to open the blinds in the windows behind her. She pushed one of the windows out, welcoming the breeze that puffed in instantly. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her from passing out. Gripping the sill on the window frame, Tina tried not to acknowledge the thoughts fighting to make their way to the front of her mind.