by Brandi Aga
“Just seeing your face helps.” He’s greasy, and his clothes are dirty. He rubs his hand down his face, and those tattooed fingers—even when I’m in pain—they turn me on. He makes me forget about the rest of the world.
“Leylah, I’m serious. You need me, and I can’t do shit about it from here.”
“You couldn’t do anything if you were here either. It’s probably just stress.” What I don’t say is that my ex-husband was just here, exposing his feelings all over my porch. It tends to bring on a lot of stress.
My bath is not helping. I’m irritable, and it’s been a long day.
“These things happen all the time, trust me.”
“Not to you they don’t. Go lay down. Call Erin to take you in and get checked out. Don’t argue with me on this.”
“Okay. You’re right, I will.”
“Love you, babe. Call me when you get there.”
“I love you too.”
We end our call, and I soak for another minute longer, only because then I have to actually get out and get dressed. Ugh. The thought of being poked and prodded is almost enough to talk me out of going. I know firsthand it’s a lot of hurry up and wait, but Roman is right. It’s our baby girl, and I need to take care of her.
Over twenty-four hours later, I’m being wheeled out to the car and on my way home. I was severely dehydrated and having contractions. After being on IV fluids all night, I’m starting to feel human again. Once I got some decent fluids pumping through my veins, my contractions started slowing down, and they released me to light bed rest until I’m cleared by my doctor. Bed rest. Something I was not expecting on my radar.
Erin parks in her spot and carries my bag in for me. I walk in behind her, and I’m pretty sure I’m hallucinating. Either that or they gave me something besides fluids in my IV. Roman is standing in my living room, in a wide stance with his arms crossed. Typical caveman.
“What are you doing here?” I practically mow Erin down to get to him. He wraps his arms around me, squeezing tight.
Safe.
In his arms.
“Bed rest, you two,” Erin scoffs. “I’m going to bed. It’s been a long night.”
All I can do is nod back, even though she probably can’t see me. I hear her door click closed softly and look up at Roman. “You’re here.”
“Anything for you, babe,” he says, barely above a whisper, and kisses my forehead. “Barely beat you here. I was gonna come sooner but grabbed the earliest flight I could. Erin said you guys were coming home this morning when I called. Figured I’d surprise you.”
“Are you hungry?”
He quirks his eyebrows up. “Nah, babe. Not hungry. Just wanna get you in bed to rest.” He pulls me by the hand and leads me down the hallway. He’s right. I need rest. I’m exhausted.
The next morning, Roman and I are waiting to be seen by Dr. Stranton for my follow-up appointment. I’m feeling much better than I did last night, but my Braxton Hicks are still lingering.
Dr. Stranton has a nurse hook me up to the fetal heart and contraction monitors. I’ve been lying here forever waiting for him to come back in. Looking at the contractions printing out of the monitor, I can tell it’s not good. They’re not huge or painful, but I shouldn’t be having so many of them so often.
There’s a knock on the door. “Good morning, kiddo.” Roman’s on his feet, shaking hands with the doctor. “Looks like we have a very active baby on our hands.” Dr. Stranton admires the contractions on the printout, and it doesn’t take long for him to tell me our new game plan. And I don’t like it one bit. “Well, I’m going to keep it fairly simple. You need to take it easy. Means no long hours on your feet and no heavy lifting. I’m comfortable sending you home with nothing else if you can do that and stay hydrated. Your early labor tests came back negative in the ER I see, so no worries there. If you continue to have contractions after this bout, I want to do another test and possibly put you on something to stop them. But we’re not there yet.”
“So, I should call it quits at the hospital then.” I’m not asking, more so just saying my fate out loud. Roman is irritated that I’m even worried about such a thing. I don’t have to look in his direction; I can feel it radiating off him. Dr. Stranton knows me and my career at the hospital. He knows how much it means to me.
“I would. If you don’t want to end up on complete restricted bed rest. Like I said, no long hours on your feet. A full shift would be hard on your body right now.”
“What about flying?” I ask.
“I wouldn’t advise it for the remainder of your pregnancy. You’re not high risk, not yet, but you don’t want to get to that point either, and certainly not in an airplane.”
Roman kisses my hand. “It’s okay, babe.” He must sense that I’m going apeshit on the inside. How am I not going to fly when the person I love lives so far away from me?
Dr. Stranton leaves my packet of papers on the cabinet for me and pats my shoulder. “I’ll give you a chance to get dressed and let you two talk about all of this. I’ll schedule you two weeks out, and if you’re not having any other issues, we’ll go back to regular appointment intervals.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Roman somehow takes over this appointment when I can’t find my composure. “Come here, babe.” He pulls me into his chest, and I’m trying so damn hard not to cry anymore, but I just can’t help it. After seeing Ryan and being in the hospital, being told I can’t go see Roman for the rest of my pregnancy is the icing on the cake.
Roman lays his tattooed fingers that I love so much on my belly. “I’m here for you, Leylah. I’ll just ride in more often now.” He pulls away from me, smiling.
My nose is red, and my face puffy from crying. I don’t know what he could possibly find amusing in this situation. “What?”
“I can close up shop, jump on the bike, and ride to my girl. All the time.” I’m not as amused as he is, clearly.
“You aren’t going to want to just leave town and get on your bike for days at a time just to come see me, Roman. Plus, you have clients. They need you too.”
“You don’t know me that well if you think I won’t ride a bike for days straight at a time just to see you. I live to ride any chance I get. That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell you. Besides, it’s not that much longer. It’ll be fine.”
I’m still not convinced, but we’ve been in here long enough. I get dressed, and Roman follows me out. No matter what he says, I still have an uneasy feeling about all of this.
Yawning, I stretch and adjust my eyes to the morning light. As eventful as yesterday was, we all slept the rest of the day away. Not complaining here.
I look over to see Cloud sitting next to Roman’s pillow, staring him down. He’s still asleep and has no idea there’s a little ball of fluff inches from his face, plotting his death. I can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes me at the disgruntled look Cloud is sporting. It causes Roman to stir, turning his head toward Cloud.
He, too, shields his eyes from the daylight shining in. “Babe, there’s something in our bed.” I’m still laughing when I reach over and hit him with the pillow. Cloud hops off the bed and runs down the hall. Always so jealous.
Roman pulls me into the crook of his arm and kisses the top of my head. “Sleep good?” he asks, tracing circles on my arm.
“Very, thanks to the warm muscles I cuddled all night.” I roll over to my side to face him better and propose my train of thoughts. I absently play with his rings while I try to think of the best way to go about this. “I was thinking…” Roman groans and flops his arms down on the bed above his head. “I just can’t not fly. I have to come see you. Maybe Erin and I could drive out. Make a road trip out of it. She would love that.”
“You were thinking about all this? I thought you were sleeping.”
“I’m serious. It’s stressing me out.”
“Well, stop stressin’. That’s what got you here in the first place, right? Relax and let it go. You’re not flying or, hell, dr
iving that far for me, babe.” His phone buzzes, and he grabs it off the nightstand. He studies it for a minute, his facial features growing hard. He leans over and kisses me one last time and hops off the bed. “Gonna take a shower. Wanna grab Erin and get some breakfast in ten?”
“Sure,” I say with a smile as he turns away, but it quickly fades.
Leylah: You busy?
Me: Workin. Deadline on this bike build.
Leylah: Oh…
Leylah: Call me when you get off?
Me: Yeah
Leylah: I miss you…
I turn my phone off and shove it in my desk drawer.
I’m an asshole.
This morning it was confirmed from my buddy Andrew that Armillio’s trafficking women down in Laguna Beach. Can’t say I’m surprised. That area is full of old rich men with fancy cars, houses, and more money than they know what to do with. So, they spend it on girls.
Andrew “knows somebody who knows somebody” down in Laguna, so he acted like he was interested in info on one of his girls, and bingo. Armillio’s name was all over it. This may be my biggest lead to him yet.
Leylah isn’t handling the distance between us well right now. If Blaze knew what I was up to, how I was actin’, he’d kick my ass. Well, he can get in line with everybody else.
I’ve been working on this bike all day. Didn’t even stop for dinner. Fuck, it’s after eleven, and I never turned my phone back on. Leylah’s gonna be pissed.
I’m busy power washing off the concrete from my day’s work, when I hear Woodzy carrying on outside. There’s not much out here on this stretch of highway except some wild animals and punkass kids, and they know better than to come around here.
“Woodzy!” I holler, turning off the power washer. He doesn’t stop barkin’. He never disobeys me. I jog out front where I distinctly hear him, and lo and behold, there’s a set of headlights glaring me down at the gate.
“You lost?” I ask, calmly palmin’ the piece I keep tucked in the waistband of my jeans.
No answer.
I walk closer to the gate to get a better glimpse of who’s in the driver seat, but I can’t tell from this angle with the headlights shining in my face.
Another minute passes with no answer. I pull my key card out of my pocket and swipe. Soon as the gate begins to swivel open, the car starts and the engine roars to life. I grip my gun tighter, and to my surprise, they put the car in reverse and back down the long dirt driveway just like that. They don’t turn around, not until they hit the pavement of the highway.
I close the gate and run back to my office and rummage through the drawer for my phone. Turning it on, I pound out a quick message to Blaze. Something is off here.
Me: You good?
Blaze: Yeah. Y?
Me: Just checkin. Closing up
Blaze: All right. Tty tomorrow
What the fuck was that? Woodzy walks up waggin’ his tail, proud of his job well done. I give him a rub on the head, letting him know I appreciate him lookin’ out for me. I take a quick look at the rest of my texts.
Leylah: Me and Erin have been brainstorming names all night. We can’t agree either.
Leylah: You still working? It’s getting late here.
Leylah: Going to bed soon.
Leylah: :(
Shit, what am I doing? I risk wakin’ her up and call.
“Hey,” she answers sleepily.
“Sorry it’s so late. Got wrapped up on this bike. Had some visitors at the shop.” I don’t know why I mentioned that. That’s the whole point of this distance I’m putting between us, not to involve her in my shit life.
“Visitors?”
“Yeah. Don’t know who they were. Woodzy carried on till they left. All good now though.”
She yawns into the phone. “Weird. I was getting sad. We never go to bed without saying goodnight.” Her voice calms the monster inside me.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Squeezing the phone so tight I fear it might break, I rush her off the line. “Go back to sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay. I love you,” she says.
“I know. ’Night.”
I end the call and hang my head. She’s gonna hate me for this.
My nerves are shot to hell. I called Roman earlier, and he sent me straight to voice mail. I sent him a text after that to call me later. It’s been five hours with no acknowledgment either way. I talk myself into sending him one more text, and then that’s it from me until he calls me. Bringing up our text messages makes me feel like a stalker. All my unanswered texts sitting there all alone in limbo stalkerland.
Me: Hey… going to the movies with Erin. Just wanted to say hi.
Roman: All right. Have fun.
I don’t like being up his ass, but why is he being so short with me?
Me: You still working?
Roman: Yeah
So, he is working. Seriously, I’m leaving him alone for the rest of the day. I’m not going to force a conversation out of him. If he isn’t in the mood, then so be it. Maybe I’m just overly hormonal. I’m getting on my own damn nerves.
I put my phone away so I’m less tempted to stalk my boyfriend and get ready to meet Erin for our movie night. She would be pissed if I stood her up and stayed in bed instead.
Three hours later, Bridget, McDreamy, and some other dude have a baby and the credits are rolling. It was cute, but in my emotional state, I probably should have gone horror instead.
I can’t help it, but I pull my phone out when we get to the car. My fingers were itching to check my phone during the movie, but I refrained so Erin couldn’t judge me.
No text. No call.
Nothing.
Feeling defeated, I lay my head against the headrest and pout.
“You suck at subtle, you know. What’s wrong?” Erin asks, giving me major side-eye. Turning sideways in my seat, I spill the beans and tell her how my shitty day—no shitty month—with Roman is going. “So, let me get this straight. He is working and not jumping at your texts right away? Relax. He is WORK-ING!”
I groan. “You don’t get it though. It’s been like this more and more lately. It’s like our conversations are forced or, I don’t know, tense. He’s purposely avoiding me. I can feel it, and it’s driving me crazy.”
“Look, just because Ryan was like that, doesn’t mean Roman is too. He’s states away—busy, yes—but he cares about you, and unlike Ryan, he tells you so.”
“I can’t look at you right now. I hate when you’re the sensible one.”
She raises her brow. “So, always?”
We laugh. “Shut up. Yes, always.”
I awaken to the sound of text messages. Several of them. Briefly, relief washes over me. Roman is talking to me, and maybe he can come see me. But my excitement fizzes out when I see that they are all from Ryan.
Ryan: Hey Ley
Ryan: How are you?
Ryan: Want to grab lunch?
No. No. No. This is not happening. I hit the phone icon and call him.
“Hey! I’m surprised to hear from you so soon.”
“Yeah, what are you doing, Ryan? Do you really think it’s a good idea to be having lunch together?”
“Why not? Can’t friends have lunch?”
“I wasn’t aware that we were friends.” Silence. “I don’t know, Ryan, maybe a rain check for some other time.” I know I hurt his feelings, but what does he expect from me? He signed those papers too, as I for some reason have to keep reminding him. Divorced people don’t do lunch—at least not this one. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, no, you’re right,” he says with disappointment seeping through the line. “How’s the baby doing?”
I smile at the mention of my baby girl. “She’s good. Less than halfway to go.”
“Good. Well, I gotta go, Ley. Let me know if you want to grab that lunch.”
“Bye, Ryan.”
I set the phone down and stare at it for the next twenty minutes. It’s burning me up inside that
Roman is doing this to me, distancing himself. We rarely fight. Nothing is “wrong” that I can see, except we hardly get to see each other anymore. Nothing has changed at work, and he promised me this wouldn’t happen. I don’t understand. Why is he avoiding me?
I look through our texts again, twisting and turning his words, trying to decipher what’s going on. Roman sent me one lonely text saying he would be working with a client all day and out of reach. He’d call me later when he got back to the shop.
My mind betrays me, and before I know it, I’m stalking Roman’s Facebook. I logged on to an inactive account that I used to have way before any of this. It’s a damn good thing too, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t see that he flat-out lied to me.
Roman’s friend Andrew tagged him in a photo of them sliding down a giant inflatable slide that goes straight into a backyard pool. Roman is sliding down on his ass, holding up a beer with a smile on his face, like he’s having the time of his life.
I’m feeling irrational right now because he felt the need to lie to me over something as stupid as a water slide. Is that what he thinks of me? He thinks he has to lie to me to do something fun?
To call him or not to call him…
I decide to wait till Erin gets home and ask her opinion. I don’t want to show my crazy just yet if I’m overreacting.
“Let me see the pic,” Erin demands as soon as she walks through the door. I had sent her a text earlier asking for advice. I know I’m driving her crazy lately, but she seems to be with me on this one. Pulling the Facebook page up on the iPad, you know, for better viewing quality, I pass it to her and watch for her reaction.
She studies it before saying anything. “And he said he was working?”
I nod. “With a client.”
She sits down beside me on the couch with a huff. “Maybe they were working at the client’s house?” She shrugs. “I think you should call him. I mean, I’m not one to harp on things like this, but y’all are having a kid together. You need to communicate. I don’t know,” she says, shaking her head, “I’m confused.”
