Forever the One

by C C Monroe

  “Don’t be a dick.” I walk around to sit on the desk in front of him, grabbing my stress ball from the desk I watch it shrivel and lose air, then fill back up. “Dude, I don’t even know. She has been moody lately, one minute she’s all lovey dovey, the next she’s coming for my fucking head. Then!” I feel myself getting riled up again. “She wants to fuck me every which way she can! It’s so confusing.” His stumped look mirrors mine.

  I continue, not over my rant. “I think she’s going through something and not fucking telling me. She’s hiding something and it’s affecting her emotionally and physically.”

  “Physically?”

  “Yeah. I don’t wanna be a dick but she’s gained a little bit of weight and...”

  “Maybe she’s pregnant,” rolls off his tongue like it’s no big deal, he shrugs.

  “No, she can’t be I mean we use...” I stop when suddenly I realize we don’t use protection, we never have. Honestly, I never even asked if she was on the pill, just assumed it. Could she be fucking pregnant? Is she on the pill? Holy fuck, how did I not think about this earlier, how could I be so fucking careless?

  “Why would you say that?” My palms start to sweat and I feel claustrophobic, like a giant gorilla in a tiny cage. I freaked on Shayla just a few weeks ago for this same shit.

  “Because you just described my fucking wife.”

  “So, that doesn’t mean she’s pregnant, Lana has always been a sassy pain in my ass.”

  “Yeah but it’s increased. Does she orgasm easier and faster?” Seriously?

  “Fuck off, I’m not talking about mine and L’s sex life with anyone and please don’t insinuate anything like that with my sister.” He laughs at me while standing and walking to the door.

  “Your girl is pregnant, I bet you damn good money. If not, then maybe you just aren’t given her the good D.” He splits, shutting the door fast enough to miss my stress ball aiming for his head.

  Trey has a fucking point. What if she’s pregnant? I mean L has never mentioned needing protection before and I sure as hell had no complaints having that tight pussy bare on my cock.

  I pace the room a few more times. Picking up the ball I threw at Trey, I smash it between my hands thinking about what I need to do.

  I need to call her. That’s the most logical thing. Holy shit, is Lana pregnant?

  Ring

  Hey you’ve reached Lana. I’m not available right now. Leave me your name and number and I’ll get back to you.

  No she won’t.

  Kings! Ahh! hahah

  I smile when I hear her voicemail. Every time I hear it my chest tightens, she sounds content and I love that she kept me in there. What doesn’t make me happy is I got sent to voicemail. I shoot her a text.

  Me: Lana, we need to talk.

  I wait three minutes. Nothing.

  Me: Lana, seriously please call me.

  Another three minutes. Nothing.

  Me: Lana, where are you? I’m fucking worried. Call me.

  Nothing.

  I call one more time and get sent to voicemail. I growl. I open my texts to message her again but before I can type anything, I see those three annoying dancing bubbles. I swear those things were made to piss off mankind, they were made to drive cavemen like me ridiculously crazy.

  Lana: I’m fine. I can’t talk right now.

  Me: I need to talk to you, answer me.

  Lana: I told you I can’t.

  Me: You know I will call you and text you til you answer. And what the fuck could keep you too busy to talk?

  Lana: I’ll just turn off my phone you asshat and nothing, I’m just busy.

  That’s cute, real funny this woman is.

  Me: Cute, nice try. I’m coming over and we will talk about your terrible sense of humor.

  Lana: Kingston, I’m not joking. I don’t think we should talk right now. I’m still hurt and maybe it’s time you move on. I’m trying to.

  I see fucking red, molten lava exploding from a volcano, red. It’s been a fucking week and she’s going to throw in the fucking towel? I said a break, not the fucking end. I never agreed to be completely done. And if she’s pregnant, there isn’t a chance she’s going to push me away. This is season three Ross and Rachel, shit. We were on a break, not over.

  What if Lana is pregnant?

  Grabbing my keys and mentally preparing myself to face Lana after this revelation, I try not to vomit. Am I ready to be a dad?

  Me: I can’t believe you would do this to me after a week. Running already Lana?

  Lana: I’m not doing anything but trying to let you move on, don’t you want to be happy?

  Me: Yeah, happy with you, god damn it!

  Lana: Don’t.

  Me: Don’t what baby, don’t fight for you? Don’t desire you like I want to?

  Lana: Stop, you aren’t playing fair. I’m turning my phone on silent. Leave me alone Kingston.

  Me: Not a chance. I don’t play fucking fair when it comes to you. I love you and I never promised to play fair...ever.

  Climbing in my car, I call Shayla. She has to know.

  “Hey bud.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Cut the crap, Shay. Where’s Lana?”

  “Kingston, she’s here with me. Just leave it be.” I hear Lana whispering in the background, cursing my name. You and me both, baby.

  “Shayla, I love you but this is my business and I need to work shit out with Lana. Am I on speaker?” Silence comes through the line and I hear her soft voice moments later.

  “No.” Shayla sniffles—I made her cry. Damn pregnancy hormones.

  “Sis, hey I’m sorry,” my voice softens. “This isn’t your fault, this is mine and Lana’s issue. I need to get to her so we can work this all out. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

  “Promise?” She sniffles again. I smile. I love my sister.

  “Promise,” I lie, I’m irrational right now.

  “Okay, I’ll let her know you’re coming over.” Lana shouts profanities in the background and I hear the sound of a chair scrapping against the floor.

  “Don’t let her leave, Shayla. I need to work this out,” I plead, letting the desperation in my voice seep through the receiver.

  “I won’t.”

  Ending the call I hit the accelerator, speeding as best as I can through green lights downtown. Driving into the suburbs of Trey and Shayla’s new home, I pass all the modern-day homes that look like they came straight out of a modern-day homemaker book. I take a deep breath when I approach Shayla’s house, the sunset fading behind their colonial style home with its wraparound porch. I pull up behind Lana’s jeep and hop out. Flipping my snapback hat around, I march up the steps in a hurry.

  Checking the door handle, I twist it and it opens. Thankful it was unlocked so I could get to Lana sooner, I still shake my head. Trey is always telling Shayla to lock the door and she never fucking listens. Stubbornness runs in this family for sure.

  I hear a pissed off Lana coming from the kitchen, so with heavy steps I tread into the kitchen. The minute I see her I lose my breath. Even pissed off at her I can’t help but be blown away by her sweet beauty. Her hair is down in waves framing her lean face. Her lips red and pouty from her nipping at them. Her brown eyes embed into my soul and I moan audibly when I see her sexy body wrapped in a loose-fitting silk slip dress, stopping mid-thigh and showing off her beautiful shoulders, collarbone and legs.

  “Baby.” I can’t help but fall into her quicksand. I’m livid, but seeing her looking like that and glowing the way she is, I lose my footing a little bit.

  Moving to her, she throws her hand up and steps back a few steps. “No. Stop.” My feet falter to a stop and I freeze in place, gauging her.

  “Lana,” I challenge, tilting my head to engage her.

  “Kingston Troy Donovan I swear if you come near me I will slap you.” I smirk, she’s sassy as ever.

  “What is your deal? I just want to talk to yo
u.”

  “You know why. You know that we can’t do this because the exact second you or I see each other we lose all our sense and fall back into the same old pattern.” She exhales, moving her hair behind her ear, showing me her red flustered cheeks and carved dimples that always show even when she isn’t smiling. My girl.

  “Well, who’s fault is that?” I counter back, glancing over at Shayla for a second. She has her eyes glued to Lana and me, watching our train wreck roll into the side of a cliff.

  “Not mine! I have given you plenty of chances to walk away and you keep coming back knowing I’m not ready for a relationship.”

  I debate my next move carefully. I want to blurt out the pregnancy thing right here, but then I think I better just take her home and work our shit out alone. Not in the middle of my sister’s kitchen like a god damn Sophie’s Choice.

  So I go with Tarzan instead. Go big or go. Fucking. Home. Closing the gap between us before she can even protest, I pick her up wedding style, careful not to hurt her belly just in case.

  “Put me down! Now!” she bellows out, making me chuckle, banging my chest with her closed fist.

  “Nope. We’re going back to your place and we’re gonna discuss a few things.” I say bye to Shayla, who stays stunned silent, shaking her head at us.

  I make it to my BMW and I put her disgruntled, flailing body in the car, buckling her in and making sure I hit the lock button on my key fob a hundred times so she can’t get out. Climbing in I lose all my restraint.

  “That wasn’t cool. Pushing me away and trying to keep me at arm’s length. This shit hurts me, Lana!” I yell, turning on the car.

  “Yeah, well what you just did hurt me!” I fly out onto the main drag and head for our apartments, clenching and releasing the wheel, ignoring her while I try to gain stability.

  “You don’t get to push me away, not anymore,” I finally speak when we’re on the freeway heading back home.

  “To hell I can’t!” Lana turns her body away from me, looking out the window.

  “Not when my fucking baby is inside you!” She swallows back, the gulping sound loud enough for me to hear over the engine of my car and the traffic around us.

  “Who told you?” Just like that, my world flips, my stomach drops and my intel is correct. Lana James is pregnant with our baby. Holy fucking shit.

  “No one and that’s not the fucking point!” I hit the steering wheel over and over again, my fist starts to throb so I pull back, my head spinning. Lana’s eyes are wide while she’s huddle close to the door, as far away from me as she can. “How could you hide this shit from me! Has our friendship and what we’ve been doing all this time meant nothing to you! Do my feelings not mean a thing to you!” She sobs next to me and for once, I’m not feeling guilty for those tears.

  “Of course I do, Kings! That’s why I didn’t tell you! I’m not capable of being with you and you shouldn’t have to take care of a child you didn’t ask for. I’m sorry!” She cries into her hands.

  “You don’t get to make that choice for me! You don’t get to tell me what I want!”

  “What do you want then, Kings!”

  “You, Lana! I want you! Have you not been listening to me! I’ve wanted you since the day I knew what wanting someone was! Fuck!” Gliding in and out of traffic is only amplifying my rage, while Lana sobs next to me. She has hidden our baby from me, lied and kept it a secret. How could she do this to me? To us?

  “Kingston. I’m sorry,” she cries out.

  “Yeah, me too.” Pulling up to the front of our building I stop and reach over opening the door. “Get out and go upstairs. I need some time to think.”

  “But Kings...”

  “No Lana, you pushed me too far today. You’ve been hiding our child from me.” Lana stares at me for what feels like small eternities before finally getting out. I need to get the hell out of here and clear up some shit. I have never once felt so betrayed by her—by my best friend.

  “Lana.” She dips back down looking at me, hopeful with swollen red eyes. “For the record, this isn’t me leaving you, this is you pushing me away.” She chokes out another sob and shuts the door. I watch her clear the door to the apartments then I speed off.

  I listen to loud, eardrum bursting rock while I drive around town, getting trapped in my own head while I dissect piece by piece what the hell just happened. My mind is going round and round like a merry go round and I can’t get it to stop. Filtering through anger, hurt, confusion—so much more. My heart in my chest pounds slow and deep, never truly calming. I debate going to my dad’s, running away, like a little bitch, but I am stopped and pulled in a different direction when I see a Target.

  Fucking Target.

  Parking, I jump out and wander into the store. Not entirely sure what the hell I am doing in a Target filled with rage—with hurt, but my body moves like it’s being controlled by someone else. I keep walking around aimlessly, not sure where my body is going, not sure where my mind is directing it until I’m smack dab in the middle of the fucking baby section.

  I’m surrounded by baby clothes, strollers, fucking breast pumps. Holy hell, what is all this? What is it for? How will I be ready to be a father?

  I’m gonna be a fucking dad.

  My eyes roam over the strollers causing a breathtaking vision of Lana pushing a baby girl with her gorgeous eyes and dimpled smile. My heart settles, it finally calms the hell down enough to rationalize and truly analyze everything that I’ve just learned.

  How could she do this to me? I mean I’m scared to be a dad, but it’s not even her getting pregnant that I’m upset about, it’s the lies. We’ve never lied to each other, in the fourteen years we’ve been friends, we have never lied to one another. What gives? Am I really the type of man she fears? I know I’m cocky, I know I’m smug—Shit, I know I’m controlling. But my obsession with her would never lead me down a road where she would ever be hurt. Her fear should be swallowed whole especially because it’s surmountable by unconditional love.

  I make it to the diaper aisle and I see the prices for one box. Holy fuck, babies are thieves, that shit’s expensive. Good thing I can afford it. Affording a baby, that’s a weird thought. I mean that’s just their shit holders, imagine all the other things, formula, baby wipes, clothes.

  What if I’m a terrible dad? What if I’m not good enough to raise a being who’s as perfect as their mother? Even though she lied and even though she pushes me away and drives me crazy, Lana’s perfect, she’s all I’ve ever known—all I have ever loved.

  I see the pink clothes and see Lana as a beautiful baby, so innocent and kind. Then I see the blue and think of me when I was little, dirty and stubborn. I step back and see the life with Lana where we have beautiful children. I see her wearing my ring, round with another baby, surrounded by a ton of our children. Fuck I wanna give her thousands of babies, I want to build a whole new town with just our family. I want to be the father of all our little rugrats. Grabbing multiple items I head to the checkout stand. I knew this night was far from over, I still need to get home to L and fix this shit.

  Tonight’s the night, tonight she’s gonna let me have her as mine—for good.

  I throw up for the third time tonight. Kingston left me an hour ago and between pregnancy sickness and the horrible way Kings and I left things, I can’t even keep water down. I deserved him leaving like that. The blunt words he left me with still resonate. He didn’t leave, I pushed him away.

  Stepping into my bedroom I go to my dresser and open the bottom drawer finding my box of pictured memories. Carrying it with me to the living room I sit on the plush rug and open the square box in my lap. The first thing I see is a picture of Shayla and me on the day we got the keys to our boutique. The day we became proud owners of CC Chic.

  “You better not drop that box, Kings, it has all the lightbulbs,” I warn stepping down from the ladder.

  “What, you mean this one?” He lets the box slip close enough to the floor that I shrie
k and right before it hits the floor he catches it.

  “Smartass! You can be such an asshat, you know that?” My feet hit the floor and I slap his arm.

  “Yeah, I can. It’s a God given gift to be this good looking and still be fucking hilarious.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “I don’t need to, you do it for me, baby.” Winking at me, I throw the dusty rag in my hand right in his face.

  “God, you’re so smug.”

  Placing that one on the coffee table I sift through a few more until I come across one of my favorite pictures and even more than that, my favorite memory with Kingston. He’s standing in the lake we used to go to on summer weekends. He is baby faced at nineteen with only a few tattoos. The best part is his ass crack hanging out of his swim trunks. Booty is out of control—I chuckle.

  “Shay! Lana! Does this water make my ass look fat?” Shay and I are reading Cosmo and lying out in the warm Utah summer sun when Kings yells to us. Looking over the rim of my magazine I crack up. There plain as day, is Kingston’s huge ass barely contained in his swim trunks. Kingston has the roundest, sexiest ass, like a peach and I love it. It’s cute. He knows this and he owns it.

  “No, I think it’s your big ass.” He looks appalled by my insult. He asked for it.

  “How rude! I happen to think this big ass is my best ass-set, bu-dun-chu!” His attempt at fake drums just makes us all laugh harder. “Take a picture of it, save it for later, when you’re alone at night and thinking of me.”

  I grab my phone and snap a picture. “I’m taken, but I’ll make sure to keep this as blackmail.” Kings rolls his eyes at the mention of my new boyfriend, Joel, but it quickly passes when Trey throws a football and it barely misses his head.

  “Nice job, dick! You almost got my hair wet!”

  “Oh no, pretty boy Kingston almost got his hair wet!” Trey teases before winking over at Shayla. I see her blush, man she’s got it bad.

  Coming back to the present, my wayward thoughts distracting me from reality. “I wonder if you will have your dad’s cute butt,” I whisper to myself, or so I thought.