Inked

by Sarah Darlington

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll have to wear them more often then.”

  “No. I’ll never get anything done.”

  At his words, I couldn’t help myself. I wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. I squeezed him hard while he worked to sort out our burnt dinner. He meant everything to me. I kept getting this feeling lately—that the night he got me pregnant was divine intervention or something crazy. Maybe my dad up in heaven was watching out for me, and he sent Nick my way somehow. Because, holy shit, was I happy I had him. I was intensely happy I had him to go through this pregnancy with. I didn’t know him that first night we’d slept together. For all I knew, he could have been some psycho. Instead, as it turned out, he was this wonderfully sweet, caring man who, literally, always put me first. His mom was in town. And still, he was always home with me by dinner time each night. Always staying over. Always giving me—everything.

  “Amanda, please let go.”

  I dropped my hands from his waist immediately. “Sorry.”

  “Fuck, it’s happening. My hands are tingling.” He turned away from the stove. He sat on the floor with his legs close to his chest, an uncomfortable-looking position for him. “Amanda.” His breathing turned heavy now, strained as he spoke. “Go—for a few minutes. Just go watch an episode of that show you’ve been watching. I’ll come get you when it’s passed. You don’t need to stay for this.”

  I knelt down next to him.

  He hadn’t had a panic attack since the morning he cried in my bed and scared me half to death. He even commented this morning how it had been almost a week and he was about due. He had tears in his eyes now, just the same as that morning, as he gave me a silent plea. Those tears made his eyes just about the most brilliant color of blue I’d ever seen. My heart was breaking for him. It was insane to see such a strong, otherwise happy, confident man like him weakened within seconds.

  “Go,” he muttered.

  I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I sat beside him on the floor. We both had our backs to the cabinets. I didn’t say anything as I listened to his breathing and his groans. Tears tried to blur my vision, but I fought them off. I knew I couldn’t let him see me emotional when it finished. I had to be strong for him. After a few minutes, his breathing calmed, which I knew meant the worst of it was over.

  “Fuck,” he whispered. He rested his head back against the cabinet behind us. “Fuck. What if I do that when I’m in the middle of watching the baby? You’re not home. I’m all alone. And that happens. I can’t be trusted with a baby.”

  “If it happens—you put the baby down somewhere safe. Where it can’t roll off a bed, or changing table, or whatever. Then you wait for it to pass. If the baby has to cry for a minute, it will be okay.”

  He made a noise deep in his throat. “Fuck, Amanda. I’m sorry I’m not better for you.”

  “I don’t want better. I just want you. Go. You should go rest now.”

  He told me the other day how tiring his panic attacks usually were. How afterwards, he felt this wave of straight exhaustion. He’d said that after an attack he could usually sleep for twelve straight hours.

  “I’ll order some takeout, since I’m fairly sure dinner is inedible by now, and when it gets here, I’ll come to bed too.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered.

  He stood, and I stood with him.

  He wasn’t making eye contact anymore. He’d been practically eye-fucking me minutes before, so this was a stark difference—one I did not like and wasn’t going to tolerate. I grabbed his face. I stood on my toes so I could be closer to his height because he really needed to hear what I was about to tell him. “You’re everything to me. I wake up every day with a dumb, silly smile on my face, because of you. I know you’ve seen it. It’s ridiculous. I’m embarrassed by how ridiculous I know that smile looks. I’m excited to be a mom because of you. That isn’t going to change for me because of one panic attack. Because of ten. Because of a million. So don’t be harsh on yourself. Don’t ever doubt my feelings for you. And don’t you dare ask me to leave again. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Damn, Amanda,” he muttered. He swallowed, his jaw tight. “Damn.”

  “Go. Seriously.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Then I saw it. The trace of a small smile on his handsome lips.

  I softly kissed those lips.

  “Rest. Let me worry about dinner for once.” He was always insisting on cooking for me.

  “Okay. Join me in a little bit.”

  “I will.”

  He moved to kiss me. I mean, really kiss me. He pressed his forehead against mine, breathed in deeply as his hands came gently to my neck, and he kissed me. It was brief, but it was fire. “Love you, baby.”

  Then he dropped his hands away and left the kitchen.

  I let out a breath.

  Fuck, I loved him.

  ~ CHAPTER 46 ~

  NICK

  “Your mother is here.”

  “What?”

  “She’s at the door.”

  Not the first words I want to wake up to in the morning.

  I rubbed at my eyes. Sunshine lit up Amanda’s bedroom. She stood beside the bed. Her figure, the small bump of her belly under her shirt, was on display in the sunlight. She was really, no matter the day, no matter the circumstances, the best thing to wake up to. Even if she was telling me my mother was here.

  Memories of last night came to me. For a second, I’d forgotten that I’d had another panic attack. I remembered now. As far as my attacks went, this one had been relatively mild. But annoyingly, it had happened right after sex. Right when Amanda had her arms around my middle. I hated that my anxiety controlled so much of my life. At least with Amanda, one of the best things about her—I couldn’t seem to scare her off, bore her to death, or drive her straight into the arms of the next waiting Rockstar.

  “My mom?” I cleared my throat.

  “Yeah. I answered the door in this.” She gestured to her clothing.

  “Well, fuck.” Amanda wore a tight-fitting shirt that showed exactly how pregnant she was. “I was going to have to tell her eventually. Might as well get it over with today.” I climbed out of bed. Gathering my clothes off the floor, I started to get dressed.

  “She hates me,” Amanda muttered.

  “What? She doesn’t hate you.”

  “She really hates me.”

  “No way. She loved my brother Mick from the start when he wasn’t even her own. Trust me, I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t love you.”

  Amanda pointed at her stomach. “This reason.”

  “Not a reason,” I said, yanking on my shirt and slipping on my sneakers all in one skilled motion. The thing about my mom was—she had two categories. She either loved a person. Or she hated that person with a fiery passion. I would not let her put Amanda into the latter category. Besides, Raven, my brother’s wife, I’m pretty sure used to be a prostitute. Like no joke, an actual prostitute. Mick brought her home one day and my mother welcomed the woman with open arms. I wouldn’t tolerate her doing anything less with Amanda. “Give me a minute to speak with her. I’ll see what she wants.”

  Amanda nodded.

  She was quiet, clearly upset by something my mom might have already said. I touched her chin and kissed her lips briefly. Then I left. My mom would not dare to fuck with me right now.

  “Yes,” I said opening Amanda’s front door. I stepped outside into the dewy morning air. “Did you need to come over this early in the morning, making a scene, Mom?”

  It didn’t matter that the sun was barely over the horizon; Mom looked impeccable. Her hair and makeup fresh, her outfit a portrait of too many layers. This wasn’t Maine. She didn’t need to dress like it was. “I did. Your girlfriend, of how many weeks, is pregnant.”

  Well, shit. I guess she did know.

  That reminded me. Amanda’s ultrasound was today. The one where we finally would find out the sex of the baby. It was a good thirty-minute
drive to the ultrasound place on the mainland. We probably needed to be getting ready for that instead of dealing with this right now.

  “I’m aware she’s pregnant.”

  “And you were going to tell me—when? I’ve been in town, staying in your rental, having dinner with Lou every night for over a week now. Waiting, mind you, for you to tell me since that very first day I meet Amanda. Today is my last day. I leave tomorrow. A fact you would know if you had bothered spending any time with me this past week. And I’m forced to confront you about it like this. A mom shouldn’t have to do that, Nick.”

  “You knew when we had dinner?”

  “Yes. A girl like Amanda with her pink hair and tattoos doesn’t normally wear a lose-fitting blouse like the one she had on. So I thought, why? Just for me? Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure she might be hiding her figure. Plus, that blouse, a little too sheer for hiding anything. I don’t like people who hide things. Doesn’t sit well with me.”

  “You arrived out of nowhere. You invited her to dinner, kind of behind my back. We didn’t have a minute to even discuss telling you or plan how to tell you before you pushed dinner on us. We weren’t trying to hide her pregnancy. But I guess you know now. So... surprise! You’re going to be a grandma.”

  “Don’t be a smart ass.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Does Mick know?”

  “I haven’t told anyone.”

  “I thought you would have at least told Mick. But I guess not since he barely hears from you, either…”

  I groaned. Here we go. I was about to hear all her grievances. “Mom,” I warned.

  “Your brother is not about to say it. But he misses you. Your father and I miss you. We supported you the first time you moved to North Carolina and perused your turtles. But now... when are you coming home, Nick? And for good?”

  “Well I’m about to have a fucking baby, Mom. Do you think I’m planning on moving at the moment?”

  She cringed at my language. I didn’t normally swear around her. In fact, I didn’t normally speak my mind with her. All my life, I’d pretty much kept quiet, let them run things for me. My degree in Marine Biology had been my first step away from them. My move to North Carolina, the second. It wasn’t that I didn’t love them. It was that I felt suffocated around them.

  “I’m not moving back anytime soon. I feel good around this girl.”

  “Good how? Explain?”

  “Happy. I’m happy.”

  “But are you healthy?” Mom sighed. She rested her hands on her plump hips. She knew a little about the extent of my panic attacks. When she had first witnessed one, the summer after my freshman year of college, she put me straight into therapy.

  With her therapist.

  “Have they increased or decreased?”

  She never spoke of my panic attacks. And if she had to, it was like this. Never putting a name to them.

  “Same. Maybe slightly more often. But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “The person you’re with should be a calming force. She should be lessening your anxiety. Not heightening it by being dumb enough to let herself get pregnant. Babies, trust me, are the very definition of anxiety. I look at this house and all I see is anxiety. Between the overgrown lawn and the roof that likely leaks when it rains… Anyway, how far along is she?”

  “Mom. I can’t have this conversation with you. Not right now. Not today.”

  Speaking of anxiety—I could feel it bubbling under my skin, itching my neck, making my stomach feel a little like acid. Amanda was not my source of anxiety. At the moment, my mother was.

  “It’s not Amanda I don’t like. She seems sweet. I’m just worried. I’m always going to worry about you. The further away from home you are, the more I worry. You know?”

  “Yep.”

  “Alright. I’ll go. Finn is taking us and Lou to the beach soon. He gives her less anxiety, you know, not more. And they’re cute to watch.”

  Finn could go fuck himself. But I was happy Lou seemed to be enjoying spending her time with him. Going to the beach with him was an amazing step. And Finn being there for Lou lately meant I could be here with Amanda more.

  Mom stepped down off Amanda’s porch.

  “Come say goodbye tonight,” she called over her shoulder as she walked toward her rental car.

  I lingered for a moment after she disappeared, collecting myself.

  I was sweating, and not from the humidity.

  I felt jittery and sick, and I knew if I stepped immediately inside Amanda would notice. I couldn’t let her see that. So I waited. I waited until I had everything under control before I stepped back inside her house.

  ~ CHAPTER 47 ~

  AMANDA

  “We need to get going so we don’t miss this ultrasound.”

  Nick’s mom was long gone, and Nick was in my bathroom. He’d just finished brushing his teeth, and he looked at me through the reflection of the mirror. He looked so handsome standing there in my tiny, cramped bathroom. The tiles coating the walls were a dingy yellow color that clashed with the rich color of his dark hair.

  “Did she say anything else to you?”

  He’d been questioning me since she left.

  “No. Nothing else.” I gave him a small, and I’ll admit forced, smile.

  Nick wiped his mouth with a towel. Then he stepped past me. I was already ready to go. I’d showered and dressed. I grabbed my bag and followed him outside, getting into his car with him. I didn’t say much as he started the ignition and we left for the clinic where I had my appointment. All week we’d been excited about this. Now the air felt thick, heavy with tension.

  “After today, we should start buying stuff for the baby. I mean, we’ll know if we should be buying boy stuff or girl stuff. Right? I haven’t been in that other room in your house. The door is always closed. Is it a second bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would it work for the baby?”

  “I guess so.”

  Nick turned onto the main road. I smoothed my hands over my jean shorts, pulling at them. Maybe I should have tried to cover some of my tattoos for this ultrasound. Shorts and a tank-top, I decided, might have been an awful idea. I felt exposed. All my life, my tattoos had felt the opposite of that. In high school, I’d been quiet and shy. I never stood out. I wasn’t popular or unpopular. I wasn’t good or bad at sports. I’d always fallen in middle ground with basically everything I did. My tattoos gave me a little something extra—something special. They’d given me an edge up on everyone else. And they’d always felt like this protective layer I wore against the world. Something that made me not-so-average.

  I felt judged today.

  I felt not good enough for Nick all over again.

  I felt the word his mom had used. She said I was trapping Nick. Trapping him here in North Carolina. That Nick was a good man and he would do everything he could to provide for me. Because that was his nature. But at what cost, she’d asked—his sanity?

  I’d been wrong that night at dinner. She knew of his panic attacks, and of his anxiety. And I’d listened at the door while Nick spoke with her. I shouldn’t have, but I had. I heard her question whether or not I was right for him. I made his anxiety worse, not better. This baby—it would make it worse, too.

  “You okay?” he asked for like the fourth time.

  “I’m nervous. Do you want it to be a boy or girl?”

  I’d never asked him this. I’d never thought to.

  “Either.” He reached for my hand. He laced his fingers with mine. “Either,” he repeated. “I’ll be fucking happy either way.” He tightened his grip. “I probably, as a twenty-three-year-old man, should be freaking the fuck out right now. I mean, we’re a little young for a kid, right? That’s what most people would be thinking right now, right? How old are you Amanda? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.”

  “Twenty…Twenty-five,” I stuttered.

  I don’t know why, but I always thought Nick was
a bit older than me. How had we never talked about our ages? Probably because I spent so much time not talking to him in the beginning.

  “I know the way I should feel about this,” he said to me. “Scared. But I’m excited. Between you and the baby… I’m really fucking excited. And I know that’s not normal. And I know with my anxiety I should be feeling a different way. But I look at you, and you’re my hope. Hope in human form. Sorry—” He pulled his hand from my grip. And he cracked the window a little on his side, letting in some fresh air. “Sorry. It’s hot in here.”

  “I can’t believe you’re younger than me.” I picked at my fingernails.

  “Why?”

  “You don’t seem younger. You’re mature. You’re rational. You know how to cook. You know how to get me off in bed. And you’re right, most guys your age wouldn’t be so excited about suddenly being a father. I assumed you were older because I usually only attract older men. Something about me appeals to older men. Maybe this air of mystery,” I giggled. It sounded so ridiculous when I said it out loud. “I don’t know. When I go to the grocery store, it’s not guys my own age who try to talk to me. It’s men who probably have a wife and kids at home. People look at me and see a certain type of person. And whoever that person is, she isn’t the type who meshes up with your type of person.” Now I wasn’t even just talking about our ages. I was implying social differences too. “The guys I’ve dated in the past have always, all of them, been a disappointment. I don’t really care about two years. I mean, two years is nothing. We’re basically the same age. I just—I’m always surprised by you. In the best ways. And now I’m surprised again.”

  “I’m sure the men your same age or younger want to talk to you but are intimidated. Probably would piss their pants if a woman like you walked up to them in the grocery store and said hi. You might not be my normal type. Or who other people expect to be my normal type. But fucking trust me, my impulse tattoo was the best decision of my life.”