Rebel Heart

by Penelope Ward

  She started to cry. “Okay. I didn’t cheat on you either. Not that anyone in his right mind would want me with what I look like these days. But I wouldn’t do that to you, either.”

  I pulled her to me. “You do realize I’m sitting here with a hard-on, even in the middle of our arguing because I fucking love your body these days. So you saying no one in their right mind would want you is sort of insulting to us both.”

  She laughed through her tears. “I guess we’re both a little crazy, then.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. After she had calmed down, I pulled back to look at her. “We good?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.”

  “Okay. So can I shut the fucking lights off and get some shuteye? Because your ass snoring in the chair a few feet away kept me up last night.”

  “You’re so full of shit.”

  I was. But I loved that she called me out on it. That was my girl. Not the one who thought I cheated and was too busy tiptoeing around my arrogant ass to say something. I got up and flicked off the lights.

  It took a whopping five minutes for Gia to fall asleep once I pulled her to me, wrapped her tight in my arms, and stroked her hair. Me, I stayed awake longer, enjoying the feeling of being content for the first time in weeks, even in the middle of a shit storm.

  It sucked to have no money when you needed a new wardrobe. I knew Rush would have given me money in a heartbeat, but there was no way I was going to ask him.

  But getting new clothes was becoming an urgent matter. That was what credit cards were for, I supposed.

  Laughing to myself, I thought back to before I was pregnant and how I used to feel like I had nothing to wear, despite all of the clothes in my closet. It was certainly different when you literally had nothing to wear because you couldn’t fit into a damn thing.

  I found myself at the only maternity store in town. To my surprise, the woman behind the counter seemed to recognize me immediately.

  “You’re Gia from The Heights, right? Rush’s girl.”

  Not really wanting to get into the whole “it’s complicated” spiel with her, I simply said, “Uh…yeah. Yeah, I am.”

  It was interesting because I had no recollection of who she was. Yet, she knew me. That fact didn’t surprise me. I’d been pretty oblivious to a lot of things at work lately, so preoccupied with my impending departure and the state of Rush and my relationship.

  She held out her hand. “I’m Naomi, Rich Kirkland’s wife.”

  Rich was one of the chefs at The Heights. Really nice guy and made the best teriyaki steak tips with mushrooms and peppers. Now my stomach was growling.

  “Oh my gosh. We all love Rich. He’s so sweet and such a damn good chef.”

  “Thank you. Yeah…he loves working there. When he got laid off from his other job, Rush heard about it and took him in, even though at the time they didn’t even need another person. So we’ll always be grateful for the chance he gave Rich.”

  “Wow. I never knew that.”

  That wasn’t the only story like that about Rush. He often helped people in need. It was one of the things I loved about him.

  She came around from behind the register. “So what brings you in today?”

  I patted my belly. “Well, as you can see…I’m pregnant. I can’t fit into any of my clothes anymore. And with this being the only maternity shop in town…I figured this was the place to be for expanding people like me. I need to find at least three staples that I can rotate. I’m a bit tight on funds, so stuff I can wear with a lot of different things.”

  She rubbed her chin as she walked toward the back of the store. “Okay, so then we’ll mainly want to stick with bottoms. With tops you don’t really need to buy maternity…you can go to Target and just get some looser fitting shirts.”

  “That’s true. So maybe a couple of pairs of pants to start, not sure what selection of jeans you have?”

  Naomi walked me around and helped choose a pair of dark blue jeans, a pair of basic black pants, and some maternity shorts. Even though I said I wasn’t going to buy a shirt, I couldn’t help picking one off the rack to try on. It was periwinkle blue with a drawstring at the back.

  “Let me set you up in a dressing room,” she said, leading me into one of the back stalls.

  I slid the curtain open and hung my items on a hook.

  “Holler if you need anything,” she said.

  “Thanks.” I closed the curtain.

  I blew out a breath as I just stared at myself in the mirror for a bit. Slipping my dress over my head, I was truly shocked to see how much I had popped. I rarely took the time to look at myself this closely—or at least not in this kind of stark, fluorescent lighting. It was really clear how fast this baby was growing inside of me. Depending on my mood, I could either look at myself and feel beautiful or fat. Whenever I thought about Rush, I felt beautiful. He made me look at all of the changes my body was going through as a good thing. Not sure I would be able to see the positive in all of this if he didn’t constantly remind me how hot he was for me. Even the thought of that made my entire body tingle. Rush had control of my body even in his absence.

  Good thoughts of Rush would always somehow evolve into worrisome ones. It was hard for me to feel fully confident about where things were going with us. Even though his behavior toward me lately made me optimistic, there was one major factor that caused me to doubt everything: he wasn’t trying to have sex with me. It was the one thing he was holding back. It was clearly a conscious effort not to, given how horny he was. And it spoke volumes. Now that I knew he hadn’t slept with anyone else, despite how much of a relief that was, it made me even more amazed and curious as to why he hadn’t tried anything. Of course, that was enough to make me doubt all of the optimistic signs that he’d been showing lately.

  Shaking that thought away, I slipped on the maternity jeans and somehow squeezed my ass into them. Once around my waist, they were pretty comfortable. I squatted to feel whether the material was stretchy enough. After I took them off, I tried on the other items before concluding that I’d be better off getting an extra pair of pants in a different color rather than the cute shirt.

  Exiting the dressing room, I reluctantly returned the shirt to its rightful place on the rack, and Naomi helped me pick out a lighter pair of jeans in my size.

  We took everything to the register. It seemed to be taking a long time for her to ring me up. She swiped the card several times and muttered something under her breath.

  Naomi frowned. “You don’t have another credit card, do you?”

  “No. Why?”

  “This one was declined. I tried it three times.”

  I was starting to sweat. Lately, I’d been charging a lot of baby stuff I was going to need in the future. It wasn’t that hard to believe that my card could be near its limit. The payment I’d just made two days ago probably hadn’t been applied yet.

  Feeling embarrassed, I said, “You know what? I might have to call them and straighten it out. Don’t worry about it. Now that I know what I like…I’ll just come back and pick them up another time.”

  “Are you sure? I could probably do like a layaway plan if you want to put some money down.”

  The word layaway brought me back to flashbacks of going to T.J. Maxx as a child and depositing money toward my school clothes with my dad. That felt like just yesterday. Somehow pink and purple corduroys came to mind. Dad always found a way to get me what I needed even if it took some time.

  I sighed. “No. That’s not necessary. I’ll straighten this out and come back.”

  Naomi flashed a sympathetic smile. “Okay. Sorry, it didn’t work out, Gia.”

  “Me, too.”

  I walked out of there so fast. Feeling defeated, I decided to just go straight home and open a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

  My plan was thwarted when my car struggled to start. I kept turning the ignition, and it just wouldn’t budge.

  Banging my hands repeatedly against the stee
ring wheel, I yelled, “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re gonna pick this moment to crap out on me? Thanks a lot you, you piece of shit!”

  Whack.

  Whack.

  Whack.

  My shoulders were rising and falling. Finally, I leaned my head against the steering wheel and just breathed, immediately feeling sad for being too hard on my car. That was an odd thing to be sad about, but nevertheless, I was. It was old and probably needed to just die, but I kept insisting it live, expecting it to perform as it used to. That was an unreal expectation. Who was the bad one in this equation? Me. I was. I cried thinking about that—about life and death. The death of things. The death of people. The death of relationships. Yes, my current sensitivity was probably the direct result of pregnancy hormones, coupled with the humiliation of my credit card problem, but still.

  Taking one last deep breath, I exited the car and gently closed the door. Two minutes ago, I might have slammed it shut, but my sudden kinship with my broken-down vehicle meant that I had to be compassionate.

  I patted the hood. “Sorry.”

  It was tempting to call Rush, but I stopped myself. It was imperative that I got used to doing things for myself and for my baby. That didn’t include jumping to call Rush the second something went wrong.

  So I began the long trek home by foot. Thankfully, the weather wasn’t too hot, or else I would’ve worried about overheating in my condition. But it was just perfect, cool with a slight breeze.

  An hour later, I was still walking, the bottoms of my feet sore and tired. Even my Tieks flats, which were super comfortable, couldn’t protect me from succumbing to the harsh pavement.

  At one point, a vague sense that someone was following me registered.

  When I looked to my side, Rush’s Mustang was slowly moving alongside me, just like he used to do in the early days of driving me home from The Heights.

  He rolled down the window. “Why are you walking along this road, Gia?”

  I was still moving as I answered him, “My car broke down.”

  He nudged his head. “Get in.”

  Picking up my pace a little, I walked backwards and said, “I don’t want to, Rush. I’m trying to handle things as I would if I were living alone in the City, and you wouldn’t be around to pick me up. So I’d like to walk.”

  “Gia…”

  “Yeah?”

  “Get the fuck in the car.”

  Well, I suppose I could blame my feet. They were practically crying for me to stop. Okay, I did really want to get in.

  I shrugged and opened his passenger side door.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He placed his hand on my knee. “You crazy girl. You should’ve called me.” My body immediately reacted to his touch. God, his hand felt good. Move it just a little to the right.

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” I said.

  “You should know that’s not a good enough excuse and that I would drop everything to pick you up.”

  “I know you would. But that wasn’t the point.”

  “The point was stupid.”

  I didn’t want to argue with him. “Okay. Well, thank you for the ride.”

  He glanced over at me and lifted his brow. “Where were you coming from?”

  “I was trying on clothes at the maternity store.”

  “Just trying them on?”

  “Yes. I didn’t buy anything.”

  “Why not?”

  I didn’t want to tell him the truth, but I couldn’t lie. “My card was declined.”

  His expression dampened. “I see.”

  I sighed. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Well, I’m mad that you didn’t invite me to come watch you try them on, to be honest.” He flashed me a sexy smirk. One little look from Rush always went straight between my legs.

  I turned my body toward him and lowered my voice. “You know, I was thinking of you when I was in the dressing room.”

  He smiled mischievously. “Oh, now this is a story I want to hear.”

  “I was thinking about how good you always make me feel about my body. The only reason I feel sexy right now is because of you. When I look at myself, I hear your voice telling me how hot I am.”

  “I don’t do it to make you feel good. I do it because I genuinely love your body. If it makes you feel good, though, then that’s an added benefit.” He exhaled, his voice sounding needy. “So tell me about this trying on stuff. Were your tits bare?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  “But they were busting out of my bra, which is now too tight.”

  “So are my pants now.” He groaned then glanced down at his crotch. “Thanks a lot.”

  “You’re hopeless,” I laughed, secretly loving that I was turning him on with my words.

  “Will you let me watch next time?”

  My body was heating up. “Are you serious?”

  “Look fucking down. Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  I laughed. “No, you don’t.”

  “Okay, then. Next time you go clothes shopping, I wanna come.”

  Hearing him say he wanted to come made me have to clench between my legs.

  When we arrived at my house, I turned to him after he shut the car off. “Did you want to come in?”

  “Actually, I have to get back to The Heights. I have a lot of end-of-the-season stuff I’ve gotta get done.”

  I swallowed in disappointment. The old Rush would have taken any opportunity to jump my bones after the foreplay of our sexy conversation.

  I simply nodded and exited the car.

  He suddenly walked to the back of the vehicle and opened his trunk.

  Rush took out three shopping bags. I recognized the name of the maternity shop on them.

  Squinting my eyes in confusion, I asked, “What are those?”

  “Your clothes. The ones you couldn’t buy.”

  Pointing my index finger back and forth, I frowned. “How did you…”

  “I didn’t find you by chance. Naomi called me after you left and told me what happened. She said I might want to come and pay for my girl’s stuff because she left upset after her credit card was declined.”

  I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t believe she did that.”

  “I saw your piece of shit car still parked there and wondered if it had given you trouble. After that, sure enough, I found you walking along the road.”

  I looked through the bags. There were a ton of clothes. “I only had a few items I was going to buy. What the heck did you get?”

  “I told her to give me everything she had in your size.”

  My mouth fell open. “I can’t accept this, Rush.”

  “Yes, you can and you will.”

  “No.”

  “Gia…I’m not taking anything back. I like supporting local businesses. And if you don’t wear this stuff…I will.”

  What?

  Did he just say what I thought he did?

  Bending my head back, I laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought. “You’re gonna wear the clothes…”

  He scratched his chin. “If you refuse them? Sure.”

  “Well, that’s reason enough not to take them.” I started walking back to my door, leaving the bags on the ground.

  When I turned around, Rush had lifted off his shirt. I gasped inwardly at the sight of his cut chest. It had been a while since I’d seen it bare, and I swear, he looked hotter than ever.

  Rush bent down and took the first thing he grabbed out of the bag. It was a pink, floral top. After examining it like he didn’t know what hole to put his head through, he slipped it on. He then unzipped his jeans and kicked them off. I gawked at his muscular legs before he covered them with one of the maternity skirts.

  With his hands on his hips, he winked. “How do you like me now?”

  I love you.

  I absolutely freaking love you.

&nbs
p; The sight of this big, beautiful, tattooed man in that feminine ensemble was truly something.

  “Only you could still look sexy in a pregnant woman’s outfit.”

  “Don’t make me have to walk into The Heights like this. Put me out of my misery.”

  My mouth hurt from smiling. “Okay, I’ll keep the clothes.”

  How many times was I gonna fix this crap car? I’d been under its fucking hood more than I’d been under Gia.

  The day after I picked her up on the side of the road, I’d gone back to where it was parked in front of the maternity shop to try to get it running again.

  At this point, getting it to run was like a battle against an enemy, and there was no way I was going to let this piece of junk win. I think fixing it repeatedly was like a challenge to me. That had to be the only reason I continued to mess with it, especially when it would have been much easier to just replace it.

  After about an hour, I finally got it running. My plan was to drive it to Gia’s and walk back to my own car.

  Halfway there, the damn thing started smoking like crazy. I’d finally reached the end of the line. This was the last straw.

  Breaking out into a laughing fit, I pulled over and leaned against it, buried in a cloud of smoke. Then, as if a switch went off inside of me, I began kicking the shit out of the car—over and over. This moment must have been the culmination of all of the stress I’d been under over the last several weeks. But it just felt so damn good to do it. Add to that, the fact that I was picturing Elliott the whole time I destroyed this thing, and it was exactly what I needed. People were driving by and honking, but I didn’t care.

  After about five full minutes of beating the crap out of the car, I’d wrecked it beyond repair from a physical standpoint.

  I just kept staring at it, and realized that this finally gave me an excuse to do something I’d wanted to for a while: buy Gia a new and reliable mode of transportation. The best part was she really couldn’t refuse it. It wasn’t like I was doing her a favor. I’d destroyed her freaking car, for Christ’s sake. She had no choice but to accept a new one as a token of my apology.