VEGAS follows you home

by Sadie Grubor

  I nod, swallowing hard.

  "Of course," I croak.

  "I'll take the couch." Damon grins at me.

  "You can't sleep on that thing all night," Mercedes implores, a trace of disbelief in her voice.

  "I'll be fine." He straightens from the wall.

  "You can sleep with me," I say with more composure than I feel inside.

  His eyes meet mine, but he says nothing. We stare silently for a few moments before Mercedes breaks the quiet.

  "Well, I'm going to head to bed. That little guy tired me out."

  She steps to me, leans down, and kisses my head.

  "Night, Liv."

  "Night, Ced," I return, my eyes staying locked with Damon's.

  In my peripheral vision, I see Mercedes brush by Damon and disappear down the hall. Once the spare bedroom door clicks shut, Damon speaks.

  "Are you sure? I can sleep on the couch."

  "The couch isn't comfortable enough for an entire night. It's fine."

  "Olivia, I don't want you to be uneasy next to me all night. You need your rest."

  "I'll be fine. I promise."

  He studies me for a minute longer before striding forward and offering me his hand.

  "Shall we?"

  Without hesitation, I take his hand.

  "We shall," I respond.

  The corner of his lip curls and my heart thumps against my ribcage. He leads us to my bedroom where we change into pajamas and climb beneath the covers.

  I settle onto my side, facing away from him. He slides his arm around me, spanning his hand across my belly. The heat of his body penetrates my back and the skin on the back of my neck warms from his breath.

  Damon doesn't do anything else and I find myself more relaxed than I have in so long. So much so, I fall asleep quickly underneath the weight of his arm.

  Crying pulls me from a slumber so deep, it takes me a few extra moments to sit up. When I do, I notice Damon is gone. As I realize this, he walks into the room with a bawling Alex.

  "Momma," he sobs, stretching his arms out for me.

  "Baby, come here."

  Damon puts him in my arms. I pull him in close, cradling him to my chest.

  "Is this the right medicine?"

  Damon holds a small plastic bottle in one hand and turns on the bedside lamp with the other.

  "It was on his dresser," he adds.

  "Yes, that's it."

  "Momma. Hurt ear," Alex cries.

  I begin rocking him as Damon reads the back of the bottle.

  A sucking sound draws my eyes from Damon down to Alex. His first two fingers are in his mouth. He gnaws on them and saliva covers his hand. Pulling them out of his mouth, he fusses. When I stick my own fingers in his mouth, he starts chewing again. Hard lumps from a tooth just beneath his gum press into my flesh. I remove my fingers and hug him tight.

  "Poor, baby. Are those mean teeth bothering you?" I coo.

  "Teeth?" Damon holds a dropper full of Motrin.

  "Yes, he's not sick. He's teething. It feels like a molar."

  Reaching up, I take the dropper and give Alex the medicine. I give the empty dropper back to Damon, pick the medicine bottle up, cover the opening with my finger, and turn it upside down. Placing the plastic bottle back on the nightstand, I work my finger into Alex's mouth and rub the pain medicine over the cause of his discomfort.

  The bed shifts when Damon climbs back in. He moves close to my side, pressing his body to mine. Reaching over me, he turns off the bedside lamp. As he brings his hand back, he places it against Alex's back and rubs. We fall asleep together, the three of us, in my bed.

  Loud banging wakes me to my light-filled bedroom.

  "Who is that?" I grumble, shifting so not to disturb Alex where he sleeps between Damon and me.

  "I'll check," Damon whispers, climbing from the bed.

  He reaches the bedroom door when Mercedes calls out.

  "Olivia." There's an urgency in her voice that worries me.

  Hurrying, I slip out of bed and rush to the living room.

  Emerging from the hallway, I see two cops standing outside my door, talking to Damon.

  "Liv, they came here asking for Damon." Mercedes moves to my side, putting her hand on my arm. "They're here to arrest him for assault."

  "What?" I exclaim, moving to the door and next to Damon.

  "Can I make a call to my lawyer?" Damon asks.

  "Sir, I'm afraid you'll need to do that from the station."

  "What's going on?" I narrow my eyes at the officer.

  "It's nothing, Olivia." Damon turns to me, cupping my face. "Get my phone, call Hugh, and tell him to get my lawyers involved," he instructs.

  "For what?"

  I pull my face from his hand and look at the officers again.

  "Assault, ma’am," he informs.

  "Who did he assault?" I bark.

  "Me."

  The sound of Erik's voice makes every hair on my body stand. Fury boils in my stomach. He stands smugly, a dark purple bruise under his eye and along his cheek.

  "Sir, we told you not to come here. We have it under control." The second officer glares at Erik.

  "My concern is for Olivia and Alex. Given his history, I feared he may harm them."

  Without looking at Damon, I know he's angry. It pours off him in invisible waves.

  "You're pressing assault charges?" I snort.

  "Yep." Erik's brow raises in challenge.

  That asshole!

  "Okay, well, let me grab my purse and follow you to the station." I look away from Erik to the first officer. "I have my own charges to press."

  "On Mr. Knyght?" The officer's brow furrows. "Ma’am, if you are in trouble—"

  "No, not on my husband, but on him." I point to Erik. "He was in my home waiting for me the other night after I was out with my husband. He proceeded to grow angry and insult me. I've been receiving deliveries from him, unwelcome gifts, and I'm beginning to worry."

  I put on my best face of concern and hold my stomach.

  "Ever since he found out my husband and I are having another child, he's been pushy and threatening. I think I should press my own charges. Harassment, a restraining order, whatever you think would make me feel more secure."

  "You're a liar!" Erik screams. "He's been stalking you and you did nothing!"

  He stomps closer, pushing by the second officer.

  "You bitch!"

  Damon steps between us.

  "Officers, do you see what I mean?" I look away from Erik to the first officer. "During his prior visit, he called me a whore. Mr. Knyght reacted by hitting him. I don't condone violence, but he was protecting me."

  "Sir, I need you to step back." The first officer addresses Erik, placing a hand on his arm.

  Erik jerks away.

  "Don't touch me! You're here to arrest this prick for assaulting me."

  "I'll grab my purse." I move to turn around.

  "I can't fucking believe you!" Erik shouts, stepping toward me.

  I spin to face him.

  "Don't." Damon pins Erik with a glare. "One more step and your good eye will match the other."

  "Sir, I need you to calm down and walk away." The second officer steps forward.

  "You're going to press charges against me, aren't you?" Erik has the nerve to sound surprised.

  "If you want to go this route, Erik, I'll do the same. If you can't let go of this delusion you had of us being together, then I'll make sure the law erases any possibility for you."

  We stare at each other over Damon's shoulder. The hardness starts to ebb from his dark eyes.

  "Are we going to the police station, Erik? Or can I get back to sleep before my son wakes up for the day?"

  Silence lingers uncomfortably.

  "Mr. Knyght, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me," the first officer states. "Unless the charges are being dropped."

  Silence.

  "Sir?" The officer addresses Erik.

  "Yeah. F
ine. I'll drop the charges."

  Taking two steps back, his eyes stay on mine.

  "This is goodbye, then?" It sounds like a question, but I don't respond.

  "Yes, it is," Damon answers for me — for us.

  Erik's eyes flicker to Damon.

  "To hell with you both," he snarls and descends the stairs to his car.

  "I apologize for the disturbance." Officer number one nods.

  "We didn't realize the situation with him." Officer number two motions to where Erik disappeared.

  "You were doing your jobs and I thank you for doing them with class."

  Damon offers his hand to both of the officers. They shake and say their goodbyes.

  In the aftermath, I sit at the kitchen island, drinking a real coffee with caffeine. Damon sits next to me, sipping on his own mug.

  "That one officer was hot as hell," Mercedes breaks the silence.

  I burst into laughter, snorting and everything.

  "Just saying." She lifts one shoulder and sips from her mug.

  The day after the police showed up, Damon was called away on an unplanned trip. The new business deal he and Hugh were working required his attendance in New York. After getting some things from his apartment, Damon stayed one more night with us before leaving early Monday morning.

  Damon asked me to cancel or reschedule our session with Dr. Livingston, but something made me keep the appointment. Now, the urge to run from the waiting room grows until I'm just about ready to bolt.

  "Olivia," Dr. Livingston calls out, pulling my attention away from my escape route.

  "Hello." I stand from the seat.

  "Is Damon running late?"

  "No." I shake my head. "He actually got called away for business. We also didn't get the full weekend together, but we are going to do that this coming weekend." I clear my throat and fight the desire to fidget. "I'd actually like to speak alone. If that's okay?"

  "Of course it is." Smiling, she motions for me to come with her.

  Instead of leading, she walks next to me.

  "How's the pregnancy?" she asks, conversationally.

  "Good." I touch my stomach reflexively. "Everything is on track and going well."

  "That's wonderful."

  We enter her office, but instead of her sitting behind the desk, she joins me on the two person couch.

  "So, Olivia, what would you like to discuss?"

  "Do I have Stockholm Syndrome?"

  A small smile graces her lips as her hand comes to my knee.

  "Stockholm is usually a result from kidnapping, abduction, hostage situations…those types of circumstances. And while I'm not an expert in that area, I don't believe you are afflicted with this syndrome."

  "Are you sure?"

  She smiles, but stays quiet, allowing me to purge my worries and fears.

  "I mean, who does this?" My eyes search her face. "He tracked me down, followed me wherever I went, hired me to work for him, barged into my life, and just…"

  I stop, trying to make sense of the words rushing through my head.

  "You're going to need to ask me the question, Olivia."

  Looking the doctor in the eye, I swallow any hesitation and ask, "How can I have fallen in love with him? For real, honest to God love?"

  Taking one of my hands in both of hers, she leans close to me.

  "I'll admit your relationship with Damon is of unconventional beginnings. And while some of the components are concerning, I will say that the time I've spent with both of you, I don't see cause for alarm. Bad decisions were made on Damon's part multiple times. However, I do believe they were emotionally driven circumstances where he tried to find healing in any way he could. He found that with you. What has surprised me is I think you've found healing in him as well."

  She pauses, looking over my face.

  "Love happens in the strangest of times and places. Some people fall in love during war, in a time when the world is being torn apart around them. Others find someone on the internet and fall in love having never met. Then, there are people who find love in a traditional fashion. Love is love, Olivia. It's a mysterious thing and I don't have the answers to everything. You will need to look inside and search your heart and soul for the answers to your question. It's not something I can give, but I will tell you what I've told many couples — you love who your heart chooses."

  "But it doesn't make sense," I argue, lamely.

  "Love doesn't make sense," she counters, releasing my hand and sitting back on the couch. Then, she adds, "Do you know how many couples come in her arguing about money, in-laws…anything you can imagine? And a lot of them have one thing in common. At least one of the people in the relationships loves the other, regardless of figure changes, money troubles, alcohol, or drugs."

  "So, it can still be unhealthy?" I grasp.

  "Sometimes." She nods. "But I'm not sure I see unhealthy with the two of you."

  Dropping my head into my hands, I sigh heavily.

  "Why are you trying so hard to fight your feelings?"

  I snap my head up, tensing. She's calling me out.

  "I'm not fighting."

  She grins.

  "Okay, maybe a little." I shrug. "If I allow myself to feel like this for him and it doesn't work, it will kill me." I swallow down threatening tears. "What if the insanity of it all is just too much? How can it work when we are built off so much deceit and craziness?"

  "You work at it. If it's worth it, you fight to keep it." Dr. Livingston pats my leg.

  "If it's worth it," I repeat, not as a question.

  Returning home, I find Mercedes sitting on the living floor with Alex.

  "Momma." Alex smiles, lifting two cars in the air. "Come home."

  "Hey, baby." I return the smile, letting his happiness wash away my inner turmoil.

  "You okay?" Mercedes’ eyes narrow.

  "Yeah."

  Setting my purse on the table, I disrobe from my coat and move to the kitchen for a drink.

  "You don't sound or look too sure about that." Mercedes leans against the island, forearms on the marble top.

  I shrug and chug juice right from the carton.

  "Spill it."

  The stool screeches on the wood floor as she sits down.

  With a sigh, I launch into my discussion with Dr. Livingston. When I finish, Mercedes sits there, just looking at me.

  "Well?" I probe for a reaction.

  "I don't know why you're being spastic."

  "You don't know why I'm…"

  I shake my head, not even bothering to finish. Instead, I look past her to check on Alex. He's still playing cars on the carpet.

  "Okay," Mercedes puts her hands up, palms forward, "I understand your hesitation, but, Liv, come on. Give the guy a break."

  "A break?" I focus back on her.

  "Yeah. So, he fucked up." She covers her mouth, apology in her eyes for cursing. "He made some crazy decisions and if you wanted to have him locked away, I would be right there, retelling the whole tale to put him in a padded cell. But, do you realize how different you've been? Don't you feel different?"

  I close my eyes, knowing I've felt different — alive and relaxed at the same time. Something I haven't felt for…well, in forever.

  "He loves you."

  My eyes snap open and meet hers.

  "It's not obsession or crazy, it’s love. And I'm pretty sure — at least, recently — you love him, too."

  Tears pool, blurring my vision. I fight hard to keep them from falling.

  "It's okay to love him."

  Blinking, I fail. Tears drip from my lashes onto my cheeks.

  "I'm so sick of crying." I wipe the wetness away.

  "We'll blame the hormones." Mercedes winks.

  "Okay," I laugh through the tears.

  "So, when you move out, I get the apartment, right?"

  I laugh harder, but she doesn't laugh.

  "You're serious?"

  She hesitates, but then nods.

&n
bsp; "What about your place?"

  She lifts one shoulder.

  "I think it's time for a change. I'd pay rent for the apartment."

  "Ced, it's not about rent."

  Sobering, I realize I've been really self-absorbed in my problems and emotions over the past few months.

  "I've been a crappy friend lately," I mutter.

  "What?" Mercedes straightens. "No, you haven't."

  "Yes, I have. We haven't talk about you or what's going on with you. I'm a jerk and I'm sorry."

  She grins.

  "Well, maybe it's been about you a lot," she playfully agrees. "I mean, it's not like you should be distracted by a Vegas one night stand, slash husband, slash baby daddy, slash another baby for the baby daddy, slash—"

  "I get it," I cry out and giggle.

  "Liv, I know you are going through a lot and I'm happy to have been here for you. Besides, you've always been the one for me to lean on. You're the dependable, put together friend who's needed a little crazy of her own. But, let's be honest, your time is up and I need some spotlight time."

  We both laugh and I move, taking a seat next to her.

  "Tell me how you've been, Ced."

  "I've decided to be a bit more like you, since I'm growing up." She grins.

  We sit and talk about Mercedes. She tells me about her night with Alfonso, the calls from him she's avoided until he finally stopped calling, and how she's been staying away from guys in general lately. Instead of going after every guy hoping to find love, she thinks maybe taking a break would be good for her. This brings us back to the conversation of her needing a change and moving into a new place. I discover that my carefree, crazy friend is at a point in lifestyle overhaul and I almost missed it. Mentally, I vow to be more attentive. I’m about to tell her this when my cell phone chimes. I’m prepared to ignore it so I can focus on Mercedes, but her phone pings as well.

  While she checks her phone, I pull mine out of my pocket.

  20 weeks: Not going to lie, this week is kind of gross. Something about meconium and sticky white substance on her skin. Good news, she gets eyelids and brows next week.

  Grinning, I slip the phone back into my pocket.

  "Felicity is losing it," Mercedes says, her eyes remaining on her phone.

  "What's going on?"

  Mercedes turns her phone toward me, showing me a text from Felicity.