by Ella Fields
My doctor had recommended birthing class, but I hadn’t thought much of it. Mom said she’d never bothered, giving me a spiel about how our bodies had been designed for the task, and that it wasn’t necessary.
I plucked up an information booklet. “Think I should go?”
Adela popped the top on her bottle. “If you want, but if that Liza is running the show, you’re buying me onion rings.”
Smirking, I tucked the booklet inside my purse.
Me: How fancy are we talking here?
I stared at the array of dresses on my bed, waiting for Aiden’s response.
Prince: Go all out, Petal. As long as you’re comfortable.
That was the problem. At almost seven months, I had limited options and even fewer maternity dresses that would be appropriate for fine dining. I blew some curls from my face, then began putting away the dresses that wouldn’t work to narrow it down.
Frustrated, I walked over to the mirror, inspecting the light makeup I’d donned and trying to think.
I was making this into too big of a deal. It was just dinner. We weren’t even together, so why should I care what his dad thought of me?
I groaned, marching back to the bed and collecting my phone.
Me: What are you wearing?
“Fuck it,” I muttered, selecting the dark blue floaty satin dress. I’d just slipped it on, adjusting it over my stomach and fussing with the beaded straps when a text came through.
Prince: Why don’t you open the door and find out.
“Little shit.” But I was smiling and quickly stuffed away the other two dresses before snatching up my purse.
Adela was out, attending a party near campus, so the apartment was uncomfortably quiet as I hobbled down the hall to the front door.
Aiden was wearing a white button-down, and the top buttons were unfastened, granting a glimpse of golden skin. Black slacks sat low on his hips, and his feet were clad in leather.
“Well, now I feel woefully underdressed,” he murmured, and our eyes met.
I tried not to blush but felt heat erupting in my cheeks anyway.
I shifted back, allowing him in. “I was about to say the same thing to you.”
“Sure, you were.” He bopped me under the chin, then bent low, inhaling my hair.
I shoved him, but it was halfhearted at best. “Quit, creeper.”
“Stop being so delicious then.”
It was an odd thing to be turned on, to want a man who wasn’t the father of the baby residing in your body. Odd and conflicting and frustrating.
I shut the door as Aiden meandered into the living room. “Let me grab some shoes.”
In answer, he folded himself onto the couch, flicking on the TV.
I’d barely slipped the black sandals onto my feet when another knock sounded on the door.
“Want me to get it?” Aiden called.
“Please.” I huffed out an annoyed breath, trying to get my swelling foot inside the faux leather straps.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
At the sound of that voice, my hand slipped from the shoe, my foot sliding in as I rose on unsteady legs.
“I could ask the same of you. Kindly fuck off now.” The door slammed, and I didn’t think I breathed at all, racing down the hall to find Aiden outside the kitchen.
“Is that…?”
His brown eyes flickered, waves of emotion surfacing and fading. The most prevalent being anger. “It’s him.”
I drew a shuddering inhale, then let it barrel free when Everett pounded on the door. “Open the door, you fuck.”
“I don’t know what to do.” My voice and the fluttering of my heart were weak.
Aiden’s lips pinched, and then he started pacing. “I can’t make that decision for you.”
Why did it suddenly feel like I was standing upon a precipice, where one wrong move could cost me more than I might be able to bear?
“Aiden—”
“You can’t leave him banging on your damn door all night. Answer it, or I’ll tell him to get lost again.”
I knew he wouldn’t leave, not until he saw me, which was only reaffirmed when he shouted, “I’ll stay out here all night, Stevie. Not like I’ve got any place to be.”
What was he doing? Just showing up here like this and knocking on my door like nothing had happened?
As if he hadn’t left me for months.
Anger had my hand gripping the door handle, and I pulled it open to find Everett stubbing out a cigarette, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “You didn’t last long this time.”
A wisp of a smile shaped his lips when he turned and saw me, then it fell, his mouth opening and a harsh breath caving his chest when his eyes dropped to my stomach.
They glassed over, and he took a staggering lurch forward as though he’d reach out and touch it.
I stepped back, clinging to the door to keep me upright.
He met my gaze then, his own still wet, his corded throat constricting. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but that stomach, our baby… holy fuck, Stevie.”
He stepped forward again, and I held out my hand. “Don’t touch me.”
Scraping a hand through his hair, he blinked, and, feeling Aiden at my back, it seemed to register.
He didn’t look drunk, but he did look different. His stubble clipped back, showing the square angles of his shifting jaw and his complexion. It was sun-kissed and clear, almost as clear as his bottle green eyes that changed as each second ticked by. From relief to joy to regret, and finally, settling on anger.
“He needs to leave. Now.”
“He is taking me to dinner.” Why I felt the need to stab him a little deeper and twist the knife, I didn’t know. No, wait. I did. He’d ruined me, flayed me open time and time again. Then left me half dead on the ground for the flies to feast on what remained. Now he was back and making demands? “You’re the one who needs to leave.”
Thick brows gathered. “You’re not even going to ask me where I’ve been?”
“Like it’ll be much different to all the other times.”
He flinched, a sharp laugh escaping as he rubbed his jaw and swayed back. “Right, of course.”
“You fucking broke me, Everett. For the last time.”
“Stevie,” Aiden cut in.
Everett growled. “I broke you? I show up here, after missing you for months, and this same asshole is still trying to take what’s mine.”
“You two need to talk,” Aiden said, gently clasping my arm. “I’ll only make it worse.”
Then he was shouldering by Everett, stalking down the paved path to his car.
“Jesus.” I ran my hands through my hair, disbelief attacking every breath. “I swear you plan this shit. You always wait until I’m functioning like a semi-normal human—”
Everett’s voice lowered, his chest heaving as he visibly tried to calm himself. “Did you get my four-leaf clover?”
“Fuck your clover. If you think what I need is a weed in place of a supportive partner who won’t bail on me, you’re even more delusional than I originally thought.” The words tore out of me, cutting and slicing, jagged and loud, and had Everett’s expression blanking.
“You think pretty damn highly of me, don’t you?” he asked, tone dry.
My voice was caked in tears. “I once thought the world of you. I thought there was nothing you couldn’t do, that you were magic just waiting to be discovered. But every chance you got, you set that adoration, that love on fire and never stuck around to watch me burn.” My words cracked. “So no, Everett. The days of me thinking highly of you are over. And you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.” I marched forward and stabbed a finger at his chest. “So don’t you dare do this. You don’t have the right to look at me like that or make me feel guilty for something that you did.”
Stealing my hand, he nodded, his fingers shaking around mine. His next breath, loud and defeated, sagged his shoulders. “I deserve your an
ger. Your tears. Your hostility. But I can’t…” He swallowed, the sound thick. “I can’t be near you right now.”
“What?” The word wheezed out of me as he dropped my hand. “What did you fucking expect after being gone for months?”
“Not this.” His head shook. “Not seeing you with him.” From the same ripped jeans he always favored, he procured a pack of cigarettes, and lit one. “And if I don’t walk away now, it’ll unravel everything I’ve worked so hard on.”
Mystified and crazy pissed, I shouted at his retreating back, “Where the hell have you been?”
“Rehab, Clover.” Ash flicked into the air behind him. “Fucking rehab.”
Rehab.
Long into the night, that one word plagued me, sending me tossing and turning as I tried to get comfortable with the wiggling human attached to my insides.
For all these weeks, he’d been getting help? Then why didn’t he tell me that? Why didn’t he tell me anything, instead of leaving me with nothing but a useless weed and a bleeding heart?
The next morning, I slipped on a maternity shirt and maxi skirt as soon as I’d eaten, and with exhaustion weighing every step, I decided he no longer got to make the decisions.
He didn’t answer his phone, so climbing into my car, I called Hendrix. “Is he with you guys?”
“Steve, yeah, but—”
“No buts. Tell him if he moves, I’ll skin his balls.”
Hendrix made a sound of surprised disgust, and I hung up.
About to turn out onto the street, I stopped, feeling the anger fade. The fuel that fired my soul and revived the broken remains of my heart emptying.
I put the car in park and slunk back into the seat, staring out the front windshield.
Gold and red leaves twirled across the sidewalk, the breeze swooping and carrying them until it lost its strength and sent them tumbling with gravity’s will.
I sniffed, swiping at my nose, and then I called Hendrix back.
“Fuck, Steve. Way to turn me off my breakfast.”
“Sorry. And never mind. I was just…”
“Angry?” he offered. “Look, I get it. But he’s not at the studio. He’s staying at Graham’s apartment.”
“Oh.”
“Did he tell you where he’d been?” he asked.
“He did, but I don’t know if I believe him, or if I should even care at this point.”
Hendrix said nothing for a moment, then his voice gentled. “Believe him, Steve. I know he’s fucked it all up, probably countless times now, but he’s a deeply wounded guy. One who’s been fighting to find some kind of healing.”
Everything he said penetrated. It burrowed into the part of my heart that wanted Everett to be the best version of himself he could be. The man I knew he was capable of being.
“You’ve forgiven him,” I said. “Just like that.”
“No.” His laugh was gruff. “No way, but I see it. I see what he’s been trying to do, what he’s done for himself these past few months, and I respect that.” Lowering his voice, he mumbled, “Doesn’t mean I didn’t slug him in the gut for how he left you.”
I smiled through the wobbling of my lips. “I need to go.”
“Call me if you need anything. I’m heading to the studio in a beat, but I’ll have my phone with me when I can.”
“Thanks,” I whispered, ending the call.
Back inside, I lowered to the couch and contemplated calling Aiden. God, what a mess. Would he even want to talk to me? There was only one way to find out.
He didn’t answer, and trying not to feel dejected, I slouched back, curling my legs into the cushions.
My phone rang.
“Hey.” Just that one word sounded wary, poised and prepared for the worst.
“On a scale of one to one million, how much do you hate me?”
His chuckle fell flat, but I took some comfort in the fact I’d made him laugh a little. “I could never hate you, Stevie. Though some days it’d make it easier if I could, for sure.”
I licked my dry lips, closing my eyes. “I’m sorry, Prince.”
A ragged breath had my eyes opening. “I take it he’s not there.”
I hated what that implied. That I treated him like some dirty secret. “He left not long after you did.”
A harsh pause preceded his next words. “Shit, Stevie.”
I scrambled to change the subject, to keep from begging him to come over. “Did you tell your dad I was sorry?”
He laughed then. “The sly asshole didn’t even show up.”
“What?”
“Yeah, when I got there and saw no sign of him, the server rushed over and told me that dinner for two was courtesy of Cooper Prince.”
I couldn’t contain my smile. “He set us up?”
“Yep.”
My smile and heart tilted as I pictured him seated there alone. “I’m so sorry.”
The pounding of my heart thickened when he took his time to say, “Hey, I have to go. I have a Skype meeting in ten minutes.”
“Okay.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see. “Sure, yeah.”
Another lengthy silence fell, followed by a murmured goodbye before he disconnected.
Rolling onto my side, I moved my hand to my stomach as the baby protested the shift in position, and I stared at the blank TV.
I attended some birthing classes with Adela, but between school, work, and the ache that never left my pelvis every time I walked more than a hundred meters, I barely had the energy to even think about giving birth to a tiny human.
I was petrified. Therefore, kind of thankful for how busy I was. It left little time to give much power to those fears.
Since showing up on my doorstep over a week ago, I hadn’t seen Everett, and after speaking to Adela and my mom, who were riddled with conflicting opinions over the reason he’d been gone, I decided it was probably for the best.
He wanted to get better, as far as I could gather, and that meant staying away from me. That was fine, but I wasn’t chasing something I wasn’t sure was any good for me anymore.
And Aiden, well, he wouldn’t so much as respond to my text messages. That was probably for the best, too.
Waving goodbye to Gloria, I stepped into the light sun shower and struggled with my textbooks and purse, trying to dig my keys out.
The books disappeared from my hand, the scent of tobacco smothering as Everett stomped on his cigarette and started walking to my car.
“Um,” I started.
“Unlock the car, Clover.”
Scowling, I did, tucking my purse in the back seat with my books.
All the while, Everett leaned against the car, his arms crossed over his chest. “You’re still attending class.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
His lips twitched. “Because you’re having a baby in about two months.”
“I’ll keep attending until I can’t, not that it’s any of your business.” I tugged my sweater down when I felt the breeze rush beneath to tickle the skin of my stomach. “Thank you very much.”
Unmoving, he stared, his bottom lip sliding beneath his teeth.
Within seconds, I grew increasingly uncomfortable, unnerved, my feet scuffing over the concrete. “Can I help you with something?”
“You really don’t want me to answer that.”
I ignored the jolt to my chest. “Fine. I’ll be going then.”
“Being there, making that kind of decision, it was fucking voluntary.”
I’d started rounding the car but paused with my back facing him.
His tone deepened, lowered, became rougher. “I couldn’t hear your voice every other week and focus on what I needed to do. I know myself, Clover. I know I’m an alcoholic, but I also know I’m addicted to you.”
Something splintered inside my chest. I turned, mouth agape, and my heart thrashing.
“I know that you, just as you always have”—he pointed a finger at me—“take up most of my thoughts, my strength, my ent
ire heart—everything.”
My throat closed, a tremor racing through my hands. “You could’ve told me before you left.”
“I could’ve, yeah, and that’s on me, but you’re not listening. I’m a fucking alcoholic, Stevie.” I flinched at the harsh words, and he let out a sardonic laugh. “That’s right. We both know it, but it still sucks to hear it out loud, right? I didn’t know if I was going to commit. If I’d last longer than a week in there, let alone the duration I stayed.”
I blinked away tears. “What made you stay?”
“Mason.” His voice lowered. “I stayed for me, for you, and for that baby in your stomach, and because I was just a fucking kid doing the best he knew how when my world was taken from me.”
He’d talked through it. “You spoke to someone?”
“Numerous someones, but yes, I spoke. And once I started, I couldn’t stop. Everything. My deadbeat parents, Mason’s death, meeting you, the music—all of it. It needed out. It needed a safe place to land. Only then could I start wading through the shit-fest I’ve made of my life.”
I felt my lips quiver. “Your life isn’t shit.”
“I know that,” he said, tone and expression softening. “Christ, I know that. But I was this parasite, leeching color and happiness, leaving trails of empty promises and broken pieces everywhere I went.” His voice cracked. “I knew it had to stop. I knew when I moved here, and I was honestly trying. But the night you could’ve lost our baby, because of me and my reckless decisions, I knew I wasn’t trying hard enough.” He straightened. “I had two choices, Stevie.”
“And what were they? Leave me or leave me?” I desperately wanted to haul those words back, but I couldn’t, so they sat there, simmering in the air between us.
He didn’t balk. “Walk away from those I continued to hurt for good, or find a way to stop hurting them.”
I shook my head, the light smattering of rain melding with the tears falling down my cheeks.
“You’re allowed to get mad. You’re allowed to fucking hate me for all I’ve done to you, but what you’re not allowed to do is stop loving me.”
