HOLDING ON

by KIKI MALONE

  Those girls, they were just the sweetest things ever. I ran into the house in a panic because I didn’t know what was happening outside with Carter and I couldn’t seem to get through to him.

  When I entered the house, I saw a scene before me that just about broke my heart but soothed it at the same time.

  Carter’s friend had all three little girls on his lap, trying to soothe them. They must’ve heard their daddy outside and were crying for him. His friend, Mikael, was obviously close to the girls and thought he could handle them.

  “Hi,” I gently whispered. I didn’t want to startle the children but was trying to make my presence known.

  I didn’t know what to do and needed someone’s help.

  “Is he okay?” he asked as he tilted his head toward the outside.

  “Not really, he needs someone; can I help with the girls, so you can go out there?”

  “Hi,” the little one said as she raised her head and saw me standing there.

  “Hi, pretty girl,” I answered. “Do you mind if I play with you, so Mikael can help your daddy with something?”

  “Okay,” she answered softly. Slowly and easily, she climbed off Mikael’s lap. “Can I show you our playroom? There’s so much in there and you’re a girl, we’ll have so much fun.”

  Her mood seemed to be changing quickly and it eased me a little.

  “How about you two?” I asked the other two girls.

  “Okay,” they both answered and climbed down off Mikael’s lap to join their sister.

  “This way,” the biggest of the three said.

  “Um…” I started, embarrassed. “Although I remember you girls, I seem to have forgotten who is who. You all look so much alike and silly me can’t tell you apart.”

  I remembered the little one’s name was Sofia, but the other two really do look alike and I can’t tell them apart. I’m sure with time, it’ll be easier for me to remember, but right now, I needed them to tell me.

  “This is quite embarrassing,” I quickly added on and did a little squirm which made the girls giggle.

  “I’m Isabella,” the one with her hair in a ponytail answered. “And that’s Felicia, though Daddy calls her Licia.”

  “Okay,” I replied. “I got it now. I promise I won’t forget anymore.” And I really hope I didn’t. These girls are precious and if I consider doing what Carter has asked of me, I can’t screw up their names. “So, where is this playroom? I’m ready to play already!”

  “Come on,” Isabella said and grabbed my hand.

  Suddenly, all three girls were dragging me through the house. I took a quick peek back at Mikael and he mouthed a ‘thank you’ back to me before walking out the door.

  I played with the girls for about thirty minutes before Mikael and Carter came back and, I tell you, spending this little time with them was the highlight of my life. I’ve never been happier.

  Even though these girls aren’t mine, I love them already.

  I recall everything Carter told me while we were outside, and suddenly, I completely understand his panic attack. I don’t know what I would do if those girls were mine and someone was trying to take them away from me.

  I call Angie and tell her I need her to meet me. I need a drink. And my best friend.

  Someone needs to stop me before I make a mistake that could cost me the love of three little girls who’ve already captured my heart.

  I get to the bar before Angie, so I order us each a drink and find us a table. I don’t care how many drinks I have before she gets here, I am planning on getting drunk. And from the sound of her voice, it seems she may need to as well.

  Angie’s parents are likely watching Alfie for the night. I’m sure she even has them on standby as our DD’s as well, knowing we are both having a bad day. It is a good thing her parents know how bad we could get and would come to get us once we are too hammered to get ourselves where we need to go.

  I observe the people milling about and think about what their lives are like. Do they have practical strangers asking them to marry them and raise their kids? Do they know what they wanted in life? Are they happily married? Or are they out here planning on cheating on someone who thinks their life is perfect?

  So many scenarios are running through my mind, I don’t even notice Angie sit down at the table. I don’t know how long she’s been here, but she has already finished half of her drink. Apparently, she is waiting for me to get out of my own head and come back to reality.

  “Bad day, huh,” she asks while finishing off her martini. My girl is a vodka martini drinker. She doesn’t like whiskey unlike me. She can’t understand how I can drink the ‘hard stuff’ as she calls it.

  Yeah, my best friend is obviously observant.

  “You, too?” I ask in return.

  It wasn’t like Angie to need to come out and vent, but since she is apparently having as bad a day as I am and since she never complains, I know I have to listen to what is happening with her first.

  “The asshole tried to contact me from jail,” she begins. Immediately, my defenses rise.

  “He’s not allowed to do that!” I exclaim.

  There is a restraining order on him, although he is in jail and has an order from the judge that he is never to try to contact Angie nor her child once he was born. That’s what happens to rapists. They don’t get to enjoy the child they created through a crime; they get to spend their lives miserable and in jail.

  “I know,” she answers meekly. “I just don’t know what to do. Alfie has started asking questions and I don’t know if I want to answer them myself. I think I want that asshole to tell his son what he did to me but then again, my boy is too young for this shit. I was going to reach out to the prosecutor who was on the case, but he’s retired. My dad is looking into who we need to contact. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want Alfie to hate me for him not having a father, but I don’t want him to know his father is a rapist either, at least not until he’s old enough to understand. I’m stuck, and I feel horrible that I’m going to disappoint my son.”

  Angie is babbling on. I don’t know how to answer her. Although, it seems she knows what the answer should be, it isn’t my place to tell her what to do. If it had been me, I don’t think I could have ever gone through with having the child of the man who took my innocence and then blamed me for what transpired afterward.

  “You don’t have to do anything, Ang,” I try to calmly explain. I know she knows this, but sometimes her parents and I have to reiterate it to her. “He has no rights. He’s not allowed to contact you. This will give him more time in prison now that he’s tried. He will never be allowed near you or Alfie and your parents and I will make sure he can’t get near you. At this point, he likely will never see freedom, so you won’t have to worry about Alfie ever having contact with him. You are an amazing mom and will find a way to explain things to your son without destroying him. I don’t think he ever has to know how he was conceived, but that’s on you. I don’t think you should say anything. Personally, I wouldn’t ever tell him if I were you. I’d let him find it all out on his own.”

  “I know you’re right,” Angie replies. This is what she needed. She needed a reminder that she is doing the right thing. I can’t even imagine how hard all of this has to be on her. Yes, she has a strong support system, but I know that she needs reassurances once in a while.

  “You are an amazing person, Ang. And an amazing mom. Stop overthinking shit. Don’t let that fuckernut fuck with your head again. He’s doing this shit on purpose because he knows it gets to you.” I’m not sure I was right on this one. No one had any contact with that douchenut, but I need to sound as confident as I don’t feel.

  “I know, I know,” she laments. “I just… I wish Alfie had a real father sometimes. I mean, my dad is amazing with him, but I just wish he had someone to look up to besides him.”

  I knew what she meant. I had an amazing father and it was a shame that if I ever did have the chance to have kids, they
would never know him. I wished the triplets could’ve known him. That thought alone tells me my resolve is breaking and I ultimately know in my heart what I’m going to do, however, I’m still going to pretend I don’t know what it is. Knowing my dad, the way he was, he would’ve loved them as if they were his own. I miss my dad, something terrible. I truly wish he were still here. There’s so much left he could’ve taught me. So much more that we needed to resolve. So many more questions I wanted to ask. So much he could teach his grandchildren. Losing my dad had to be one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. One of them. We don’t bring ever up the other.

  “One day, Ang, you will find someone who will love both you and Alfie; he will become Alfie’s dad and the most amazing man to him. He won’t ever question who his biological father is again,” I say, hoping it happens for her. It should happen. She deserves it more than anyone I know.

  “Okay,” she says and gives me a pointed look, “talk. You don’t do this unless you really need to talk, so go. Enough about me and my problems.”

  I know I’m the one who called Angie to talk, but now I don’t know that my issues are significant enough compared to hers. I want to just bottle up Carter’s proposal and leave it be. Maybe if I act like it never happened, we can all forget it? Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.

  “I just wanted to spend time with you,” I lie. To my own ears, I sound convincing. I hope Angie believes me.

  “Nu-uh,” she says.

  Obviously, she doesn’t. Crap. What am I gonna do now? Change tactics.

  “When is Alfie’s next concert? He really did an amazing job and I know he’s gonna do great things,” I tell her. Hopefully talking about her son is enough to thwart the conversation I don’t really want to have right now. Though I know I need to. But, avoidance, that’s my new tactic.

  “Nope,” she says, wagging her finger in my face. “Not happening. Don’t you fucking dare change the subject. I know you called me for a reason, and it wasn’t to discuss my son’s amazing voice. So spill it, bitch.”

  The girl knows me all too well. Fuck. Why did I think calling Angie to talk about this while it’s still so fresh was a good idea? I still need time to process it myself, never mind evaluating it with my best friend.

  “I’m not ready,” I answer, honestly.

  “Nope. I’m not letting that happen either. Last time I let you dwell on something you just about wound up next to your mom in the institution. Now talk. I’m here for a reason. Don’t make me insignificant. Please. Give me something else to focus on besides my own problems.”

  “Fine. Carter, that guy I had to tow last week, he’s in a predicament and asked me to help him and I don’t know what to do.” I finally tell her what happened. I let it all spill out and watch her reactions.

  “You know what you have to do, Elizabeth,” she answers. This is what I was afraid of. Instead of telling me what I should do, she’s gonna make me make come to my own conclusions. Shouldn’t she know by now not to let me make decisions on my own? That only leads to bad mistakes and lots of heartache, take Andrew for instance. That will tell you all you need to know about what happens when I make choices on my own.

  “I’m not sure, Ang,” I tell her. “You know everything that happened with Andrew, I’m not sure I could handle that kind of heartache again. What happens if I get too attached and he wants me to leave?”

  “Listen to yourself,” Angie implores. “You’re not even giving things a chance. What if this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for? What if this is what you’ve always been meant to do? Are you really going to let it slip away? All because of what that douchenut did? You never deserved any of that and he never deserved all you had to give.”

  “Will you cut it out with all the nuts, woman!” I laugh at Angie. She’s always cussing someone using ‘nut’ as the ending. She’s the one that’s a damn nut.

  All jokes aside, I know she’s right, but it’s so hard for me to trust anything, or any man. Andrew really caused damage to my heart and psyche. I don’t know.

  “I’ll think on it,” I answer. “I can’t promise you more than that. Give me some time to weigh it all out.”

  “Not too much time. Don’t get lost in your own head.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  We both know that is a near impossible task, but my best friend knows me and knows that me getting lost in my head will take damn near an act of God not to happen.

  “Call me,” Angie says. “I’m here for you anytime you need. You’ve been my rock for so long, now it’s my turn to be there for you. I love you, Elizabeth.” Angie pulls me into a big hug and continues, “You’re the best person I know and if you were meant to become a wife to that man and a mother to his girls, you’ll know it in your heart. Follow your heart; it won’t lead you astray again.”

  We decided to end the night there and head home. I have a lot to think about and Angie has to find a way to get the man who fathered her child to leave them alone.

  So much to do, but the safety and happiness of those little girls are at stake and we both knew what I really need to do.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ELIZABETH

  LIFE WITH ANDREW

  * * *

  GETTING drunk with Angela is never a good thing. I should know better, but I always make the same mistake and over indulge time and again.

  Her parents came to pick us up, as I knew they would, and dropped me off at home.

  Now, I’m sitting here in utter misery, trying for the life of me to decide what I should do next. I know what I want to do, but is it the right thing? Am I thinking with my libido, am I thinking with my heart or am I thinking clearly?

  I don’t know. And right now, I really don’t want to know.

  What I need to do is pass the fuck out and forget today ever happened. That is what would be for the best. To forget everything. To never have contact with Carter and those beautiful girls again.

  But that’s not what I do. Instead, I imagine what a life with them would be like. What it would be like to be a mom. How amazing it would be to have my own children love me and want to be with me.

  Andrew stole all of that from me.

  Or so I thought.

  I have the chance of a lifetime to start all over and I am actually contemplating what I should do. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I walked in the door after a long day at the garage. I was both dreading and excited to find out if what I’d been wishing for, for so long, was true. I look around to see if Andrew was anywhere around but didn’t see him. I wished he was here because I thought this was something we should be doing together.

  Walking through the house, I pictured how much things will change if I’m correct and my dreams are coming true. I’ve always dreamed of being a mother and if my suspicions are correct, they will finally come to fruition. I was about two weeks late right now and the possibility of being pregnant was so exciting.

  I looked at how much would change throughout the house and smiled. I couldn’t wait to have to clean up after my little one when they made a mess. I couldn’t wait for sleepless nights with a newborn baby. This has always been a dream of mine and I couldn’t wait to celebrate with the news Andrew.

  Thinking of him again, I knew he’s going to be just as excited as I am. We have had long conversations about becoming parents. We’ve discussed many times how many children we would have together. I’ve always wanted at least three, but we’d compromised on two. Well, two only if we have a boy and a girl. If we have two children and they are both girls, we’ll try one more time for a boy. Though, I’m convinced that our first child will be a boy.

  As if conjuring him up, Andrew walked in the door whistling. It looked like someone else was in a good mood tonight, and I’m about to make his life even better… I hope.

  “Hey,” he said as he walked over to me and gave me a kiss on the head. He always did that, and it’s the sweetest gesture. My heart melted every time.

 
; “Hey,” I said back and hugged him. I held him to me for a moment trying to get the courage to tell him our news.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, suspicious of me holding onto him longer than I normally would have.

  “Nothing,” I answered honestly. Because if my suspicions were correct, nothing was wrong, and everything was perfect.

  “So, what’s up then?” he asked, changing his question, yet still inquiring about my motives for not letting go.

  “I have something to tell you,” I replied as I released him from my grasp. I grabbed his hand and led him to the couch. “I know we’ve talked about this a lot and I think we’ve finally got what we’ve always wanted.” I smiled at him while I told him this, hoping that he would be as happy as I was right now.

  “What’s that?” he asked confusion clear on his face.

  “I’m late,” I told him.

  “You made it home before me, so how do you figure?” he asked. Such a man thing to not understand what I was trying to convey.

  “I’m two weeks late,” I continued. “I’m never late. This is the first time in my life. I think we’ve finally created one of the lives we’ve always talked about having.”

  “Nope,” he said, like it was a finality.

  “What do you mean, nope?” I asked. Now I’m the one who was clearly confused.

  “Can’t be,” he answered. What the fuck was he talking about?

  “Andrew,” I started, “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying here. I think I’m pregnant. I’m two weeks late. I bought a pregnancy test, so we can be together when I take it tonight. We’ve talked for a while about having children and I think our dreams are finally coming true.”

  I didn’t understand his bewilderment or his certitude when he spoke. We’ve talked about this.

  “Can’t be. You’re just late,” he said. “There will never be any babies for us.”