Never Can Tell

by C. M. Stunich

  “I've only ever slept with two women,” he says, and I see where this is going.

  “Me and Zella?” Noah shrugs. “Shit.” He licks his lips and lowers his voice. His hands are trembling a bit, whether from adrenaline or fear, I'm not sure. “Well, that's good I guess. If everybody has their hands in the pie, it probably doesn't taste as good.” I sound so bitter when I say this that Noah takes a step back like he's been slapped. I don't mean to inject any of my pain into this, but I can't help it. It's been surfacing a lot lately. I blame the baby again, the one in my belly.

  “Can I ask you a question?” he begins, and I'm already nodding, chewing on the end of my cig and praying that there was some way I could actually smoke it. I take it between two fingers and slide it out. Just the motion feels fucking good.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you think my inexperience had anything to do with the situation?” He's dead serious when he asks this question, and it's about now that McCabe's sharp laugh echoes out from the kitchen. We both turn to look and see him sliding out from the space beside the refrigerator, emerging from the shadows all dark and liquid, sexy as hell, smoldering, like a damn flame lighting me up from the inside out. I have to pause and catch my breath.

  “Sorry,” he says, and when he sees me looking at him, he smirks. “I was trying to be polite and stay out of it, but I felt like I needed to step in.”

  “Step off, McCabe,” I say to him as he takes in the cigarette with a raised brow. “Where's my fucking baby?”

  “Your fucking baby is with your fucking sister in the fucking yard.” He smiles and I throw my cig at him. Miraculously, he catches it between two fingers, glances around to see if Beth's watching and lights up. He's going to get himself into serious trouble. She might be being nice to him right now, but once he gets on her bad side, he's in tough shit. I'm not bailing him out. My sister is far too imposing for that. “Did she come?”

  “Ty,” I groan, but he isn't listening. He's just changed from my soulmate, my dark, twisted other half, the black to my berry, the beat to my drums, the blood to my brain, and turned into a guy. And not just any type of guy, a slutty, pervy whore of a guy, a bad boy extraordinaire, dolling out sex advice to the less fortunate.

  “She … ” Noah looks at me, like maybe he's not sure if he should continue or not. There's no way in shit I'm leaving them to have bro time, so I stay put and glare.

  “I have a lot of experience,” I say purposely, making Ty bristle. He grits his teeth and blows smoke out his nostrils. It tangles around his nose ring and teases the air with the sweet, sweet scent of tobacco. “So go ahead. Not that I think that matters. This isn't inexperience or over experience or just being a downright fucking slut.” Noah looks confused, but Ty looks hungry. I lick my lips and Noah takes another step back from the two of us, eyeing us warily. “Zella is fucking obsessed with you and you hurt her. You have to make it up to her somehow. If you want to, that is. You never answered my question: are you interested in her?”

  “I think I might love her,” he blurts. Ty raises his brows and puffs out his lower lip.

  “You hear that, baby, he might love her.” He looks back at me, and I can see that he's boiling over with jealousy. We've both fucked our fair share of people, but I'm the only one who ever had sex with someone I cared about. He hates that. It drives him nuts.

  I rise to my feet.

  “Might is a strong word, Noah. It also means there's a possibility that you don't. Figure it out first, and then talk to her. She'll know. Women always know.” I turn around and start up the stairs, trailing a wave of dark smoke in my wake. Ty follows it, just like I wanted him to, accosts me at the top of the stairs and slams me into the wall. “This is spousal abuse,” I tell him, but down there, I'm soaking wet.

  “You were begging for it, baby,” he grounds out around his cigarette. I forget all about the weirdness of Angelica and the pregnancy and my inadequacy as a mother, and I just Get lost in Ty. Besides, a good fuck never hurt to fill that empty hole inside. And if Ty's the one that's filling it, all the better.

  “Actually, I was just coming up here to grab a book. I'm not interested in you right now.”

  “Your kitty cat's telling me otherwise,” he purrs, still not playing husband or father or soul mate, still playing bad boy.

  “I can't believe you just said that,” I murmur as his hand travels down the front of my pants and teases my clit through the hideous cotton granny panties I'm wearing. “Why are you so antsy all of a sudden. Does it bother you when I talk about all the guys I've fucked?” Ty growls, low and deep, takes a deep breath and tries to pull himself out of it.

  “No, baby, I've accepted it. Soon, you'll be swollen with our second child, ripe with my fucking seed.” Okay, maybe not. He's still deep down in there, buried in darkness, but the good kind now, not the painful kind. “Does it bother you that I've fucked lots of women?”

  “You're a slut,” I whisper as he licks my ear and spins me around.

  “You're a skank,” he says with a delicious half grin.

  “Whore.”

  “Cunt.” He bites the word off with his teeth, so that it lands in the air like a compliment. He steps back suddenly and grabs me by the hand, dragging me into our bedroom and tossing his cig into an ashtray. There's not much in here now – boxes, an air mattress, our suitcases. This doesn't stop him from getting what he wants. He grabs the waistband of my pants and drops to the floor, dragging them down, exposing the copper curls between my legs. He presses his face there and breathes deep, flicking his eyes up to my face. I stare down at him defiantly as he untangles the pants from my ankles and stands back up.

  Ty grabs me under the ass and lifts me up. My legs go around him and my mouth drops to his, singeing and scorching, devouring. His cock teases me, kisses my opening, and forces its way in, claiming, marking, taking me. I snag his hair in my fingers, squeeze it tight, owning him right back.

  “You're mine,” I whisper, breathless, full, smoldering with heat.

  “Right back at ya, baby,” he snarls, fucking me so hard and fast that I can feel friction burning between our pelvises, rocking me right over the precipice of pleasure and onto that dangerous line where pain sits crouched, watching from the other side.

  I try to come up with a smart-ass retort, something to sting his ego and get a rise out of him, but I just can't seem to think in English anymore. My words are gone. I exist in sound and touch and kiss and fuck. I become that moment, wrapped up in Ty, full with him, squeezing him as tight as I can, worshipping him while he worships me.

  A dark goddess meets her dark god, and the storm she thought was brewing over her head transforms into the dancing shadows cast by the light, not bad but different. Different, belonging solely to her, only to her.

  Ty comes inside of me; I come all over him. It's disgusting, messy and perfect. Just too goddamn perfect. As I pant in his arms and feel his body pressing into mine, I worry about one thing and one thing only: perfection is a passing quality, so how, how, how can this possibly last?

  16

  Beth invites me to this 'mommy and me' picnic thing for women with children under the age of two. She says it's mostly there, so we can sit around and gossip, fill up in good southern barbeque.

  The very idea of it scares the shit out of me.

  I don't tell anyone this, but being alone with Noah frightens me. What if something happens? What if he starts choking? What if wails in public and I can't get him to stop? There are so many things that could go wrong that when I imagine being with the baby without Ty's help, I get jittery and my hands start to shake.

  I don't know how to explain this to Beth though, and end up getting enrolled in it anyway. When Ty hears about it, he's pretty fucking ecstatic which makes me feel so guilty, I want to crawl under a rock and die.

  “That'll be so great, babe,” he says, holding me, snuggling me. It feels so damn good. I can't even believe I spent the majority of my life avoiding this part of intimac
y. Sex is great, but this … This completes the act. Yeah, I'm a complete girl, so what? Cuddling is underappreciated. “You and Mini never get to spend any time alone together. How is he supposed to grow up to be a mama's boy if you guys don't hang out together?”

  And how am I supposed to say no to that?

  So, the next fucking morning starts off with Beth trying to help me pick out an outfit (I refused), India trying to get me to take one of Beth's six floral patterned baby carriers (I choose my own, Sharpie bullets and all), and Ty trying to dress our kid in a Sasquatch outfit (not fucking happening).

  “What the fuck is this?” I ask, pointing at the furry lump in the crib. The poor baby looks like he's been dipped in a vat of dirty dog hair. I push the hood off his head and stare at the costume. It's … well, there aren't really any words for it in the English language. I try though, goddamn it, I try real, real hard. “This is sixty shades of what the fucked up. Take it off.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ty asks, snapping photos with his phone. He holds up his ringed hand and waves at the baby. Noah coos and kicks his legs in response. When I try to smile at him, he just drools. “He looks fucking precious as shit. You'll be the envy of all the other moms.” Ty grins. “Especially when your hunky husband shows up midway through and takes you in the bathroom for some alone time.” I let out a harsh bark of a laugh and clamp my hand over my mouth. Noah gurgles excitedly.

  “You do realize that after this one is birthed, you're never getting laid again. I'm becoming celibate. Enjoy your last few months of sex.”

  “Hey, Never,” Ty says, getting serious all of a sudden. It scares me a little when he gets like this, demons dancing behind his eyes, howling for escape. “Sex means nothing if it's not with you.” I look at him, and I have no clue what to say. Fortunately, Beth comes into her room and sees us staring into the crib Noah shares with Autumn.

  “What did you do to that poor baby?” she asks, leaning down and squinting. “Jesus, Never.” I roll my eyes and watch as she moves away, shaking her head. “I have plenty of gender neutral one pieces … ”

  “It's fine, Beth,” I say as I touch my finger to the sole of my son's foot. My son. Son. I'm going to have to go in the bathroom at some point and lock the door, stare into the mirror and say that a hundred times fast. Son. Son. Son. Son. Son.

  “Yeah, don't worry, Beth,” Ty says smiling softly at me. “I won't pick anymore outfits out for the kid. Never's going to start taking care of that.” He raises a brow at me, challenging my earlier words. I swallow hard.

  “Yeah, I got this,” I say as Ty moves away, leaving me alone with the baby and a dirty diaper. Now, listen up and listen good: I have only changed about a dozen diapers since Noah came home from the hospital. All of them were filled with piss. This one, on the other hand … All I know is that Ty is too good to me. I'm becoming spoiled, like some sort of rotten piece of fruit, filled with maggots, surrounded by fruit flies. I'm despicable. I take a deep breath and almost call out to my sister when she leaves, footsteps disappearing down the hallway.

  I look down at Noah and wrap my arms across my chest.

  “Hey,” I say. The baby gurgles. “Um, I want you to know something.” He drools on his chin and stares at me like I'm the most interesting thing he's ever seen. His lips twitch in a smile. My eyes can't hold his. They're like mirrors to my own, grey with blue and green flecks. He might have McCabe's dark hair, but there's still some Regali in there somewhere. “I love you,” I say and the words catch in my throat, strange and foreign, choking me with tears and making it hard for me to breathe. “But I don't know how to be a mom. I'm trying, but I'm scared. Do you know what I mean?” Noah moves his arms around, looking ridiculous in that stupid Sasquatch suit. I take a step forward and wipe my hand across my nose, trying not to sniffle. I'm being ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. I've been through way tougher shit than this. This is nothing. This is love. It's that simple.

  I reach down and pull his furry pants off, tossing them into the hamper. Our conversation comes to a bit of a halt as I gag and do my best to clean up my son. When I'm finished, and he's dressed only in a clean diaper, I continue. He can't understand me, but maybe he'll absorb some of the feelings I'm trying to portray.

  “Mommy,” I say and then wrinkle my nose. Okay, fuck that. I am not a mommy. I can be a mom and a mother and a mama, but not a mommy. “Mom doesn't … she's had kind of a shitty life, and it's not your fault, it's just that I … I want to do right by you and I don't know how.” I start wrangling Noah into a black tee with a ghostly silhouette on the front. “Little goth baby,” I say which strikes me as funny. I start to life and end up crying again. Noah takes this all in stride, listening to his mother's sob story with a smile. “She lost her dad at a really young age and uh, it was fucking horrible.” I get the shirt on and move onto the pants. Little jeans slip over his chubby legs as I get into the groove of this. “And then she hurt her friend so bad, he's having trouble moving on to other women.” I pause. Frown. “Just because you're Ty's son doesn't mean you can be a player, okay? You have to treat women with respect.” Noah drools a little. I wipe it away with my university sweater, the one that says We don't give a dam about your team! “This next part gets kind of X-rated, so I'm going to simplify it a little. I … looked for love in all the wrong places, forgot who I really was inside and almost lost my soul.” This is the worst part of the story, but I'm smiling the widest now because this is where everything changed. This is where two tortured souls found each other in a bar and clashed, came together in a random twist of fate, united as one and did amazing fucking things together. “But I've got it back now, I think, or at least I'm on the right path.” I slip socks and shoes on my son's feet and pick him up, breathe him in, hold him tight. “I'm going to go back to school and learn something random like … Japanese. And then I'm going to take my degree and write a book about broken girls with desperate souls, and then … who the fuck knows, kid. With your dad and me, anything is possible.”

  The floorboards in the hallway creek, and my head snaps up. I move over to the door and kick it open only to find McCabe standing there with his hands over his face. He spreads his ringed fingers and looks out at me. My mouth drops open, and I think seriously about hitting him.

  “I didn't meant to eavesdrop,” he whispers, dropping his hands altogether. His face is so solid right now, dead serious and full of a tender love that makes my lip tremble and my eyes seek everything but him. “I thought you might need help with the baby. I was going to leave when you started talking, but, fuck, Never. You're so damn incredible.”

  “That was a private conversation, Ty,” I whisper. I want to start a fight, but I can't. Not with all of these feelings floating around between us.

  “I know, and I'm sorry, baby.” He tries to smile, but ends up laughing instead. He runs his hands down his face again. The butterflies on his arms wink at me.

  “Thanks,” I tell him randomly, and he glances at me with a raised brow.

  “For?”

  “For giving me your jacket that day, for taking me to that clinic, for following me to the bus station. Basically, thanks for not giving up on me.” I step forward and kiss him on the cheek. “I have a stupid housewife gala to attend. See you later.”

  As I start to walk away, Ty reaches out and grabs me, surrounding Noah and me with a swarm of colorful butterflies, breathing into my hair and sighing deep.

  “Thanks for not letting go of me when I fucked up, for forgiving me when I was an ass, for being the most, beautiful goddamn woman I have ever seen.”

  “Ty, stop,” I say, as the darkness teases me and the little monster commands me to tell him off. You are not good enough, will Never be good enough. You are a useless, washed up whore with no future. Fuck you, Never. Fuck you forever. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and then snap them open, pushing back, fighting against the dark cloud, telling the little monster to go suck dick.

  And it works. For the moment, it works and I
feel better. The blackness recedes, like the tide pulling out from the shore. It doesn't go very far, but I watch it's descent, and I wonder. If I keep fighting, if I stay strong, will it leave me forever? Will it pull so far back that it's nothing but a glimmer in the distance? It's definitely worth a fucking try.

  “Never?” Ty asks, sensing something in me. I lean my head into him and smile, feeling just a little better, a little freer.

  Until the drama starts downstairs. And then I think about nothing because I can hear Beth screaming from the living room. I glance back at Ty, and he explodes into action, taking the stairs two at a time. I follow after him, keeping the baby's head tucked safely against my chest. When I hit the bottom floor, the voices become clear and my lip curls.

  Danny.

  Shit.

  “My fucktard-dar is going crazy right now,” Ty tells me as he watches the explosion unfolding before him. I think we both thought, with the commotion and all, that Danny had hit Beth. Not yet. But things are going from bad to worse, so who knows. I love Ty even more for the fact that he's willing to defend my sister.

  “We have plans, Daniel,” she screeches, voice pitched to a level I've only ever heard a sprinkling of times. One of which was right before I left, before she betrayed me in the worst way possible, chose a murderer over her own sister. No. No. I can't think like that. It's over and done and we are past that shit.

  “The court doesn't care if you have plans, Beth. I get the kids half the time. Check the papers.”

  “You can burn in hell,” she snarls, tucking some hair behind her. The short bits promptly escape and get stuck to her sweaty forehead. “You only come over here for two things: to fuck me or to piss me off. Well, I'm done with fucking you, so the only real reason you're here is to ruin my damn day. Come back tomorrow, Danny.” I watch the exchange, taking in Daniel's pale, lifeless eyes and his big, square teeth. He's like a Ken doll gone wrong, like if Ken had been dipped in a vat of dickwad-psycho-sack. I glare at him, but I don't interfere. Not yet. Watching this man in his expensive suit and his greased up hair, I have a hard time understanding how Beth has not one but two children by this man. It's just … unfathomable. I guess I can't judge her. Like me, Beth has had some problems with men (thanks, Mom!), she just made the mistake of getting pregnant with one of her screwups. Twice. It kind of makes my head hurt.