by Kelsie Rae
Thanks a lot, guys.
I shove a pillow under my belly and let the tears roll down my cheeks silently, grateful for the black-out curtains that will hopefully allow me to sleep.
The next morning, I wake up with puffy eyes and feel dehydrated from all my crying the day before. I had a hard time sleeping, tossing and turning all night, finding it impossible to turn off my brain for five minutes so I could get some decent rest. I finally decide it’s time to face the music as I stare at the alarm clock on the nightstand and turn on my phone.
I ignore every text from Luke, and there are a lot of them. I know he’s worried about me, but I don’t think I can handle his attention right now. And if I’m being honest, he’s kind of on my shit list. Adam’s betrayal has made me question each and every interaction I’ve had with both him and Luke. What was real? What was genuine? Anything? Everything? Nothing? How could he have kept this from me? I’m becoming overwhelmed again, and it’s not even noon.
So, I decide to call Susan.
She picks up on the first ring, and we have a quick conversation where she asks long, exhausting questions, and I answer with single syllables. She apologizes profusely for being a B-word (I’m trying to cut back on my naughty language, thanks to my Little Man) and I decide to throw her a bone by grudgingly accepting her apology.
After her explanation, we figure out the money situation. Thankfully, she’s very gracious and insists on dropping off the paperwork at the front desk of my hotel. I’m not ready to see her yet, and am frankly pretty pissed at her still. She might not have known the can of worms she was opening, but she still handed Luke the freaking opener, insisting he spill the beans.
I’m also not in the mood to look for an apartment, but now that I have a seven-pound ticking time bomb that will wait for no one, I need to figure out my living situation before this baby decides to make an appearance.
I was counting on Luke to set up the crib, help paint the nursery, research bottle options, and pick up diapers.
I’m a little ashamed at how much I relied on him, and how I kind of assumed I would still live with him after the baby is born.
He must’ve thought I was crazy. Why would he willingly step into the father role after Little Man was born? This baby isn’t his. He knows this. I know this. How did I somehow space out on that not-so-minor detail? Not the fact that he isn’t the father, but the assumption he’d want to help. How could I assume he’d want anything to do with a postpartum woman and a new baby? I must’ve lost my marbles.
I shrug off my morose thoughts, refusing to beat myself up. I can’t change the past, but I can definitely learn from it.
I’m not going to assume he wants anything to do with me, or Little Man. I won’t, even if it tears me up inside.
What I need to do is move on, by myself, and be the independent woman that I need to be. I’m going to be a single mother. I knew that in the beginning, but I somehow had forgotten, the longer I was around Luke.
To be fair, he did insist on coming to all of my appointments. He read every weekly update about how my baby was developing, receiving notifications on his fruit equivalent. He spent every night snuggled on the couch with me, whispering to Little Man, hoping to gain a connection with him. I never asked him to do any of that. That was all him.
And I love him for it, I begrudgingly admit to myself, feeling a scowl on my face.
I’m pulled from my thoughts after receiving another text, my phone vibrating in my hand.
Breezy: Alright, girly. I can’t allow you to wallow by yourself. It’s against the girl code.
I smile slowly before my phone vibrates again.
Breezy: Where art thou? I’ll bring chocolate.
Breezy: And pizza.
Breezy: And I won’t tell Luke.
Breezy: We’ll make him sweat a lil bit.
I only hesitate for a minute before replying.
Liv: Hotel on Main. Bring donuts too.
Bree: Gotcha covered Livvy Lou.
Within an hour, someone is banging on my door. I walk over to it, peeking through the peephole before swinging the door open. Bree’s hands are ridiculously full. She’s balancing a cardboard pizza box in her hands, and two giant grocery sacks are hanging on her arm.
I laugh at her slightly disheveled appearance. She’s wearing a bright red beanie and her cheeks are flushed from exertion. Her chocolate hair is in messy curls hanging down her back, and a large black winter coat swallows her whole. Black yoga pants and bright-red snow boots finish her ensemble.
I grab the pizza box from her hand as she shoves the door open the rest of the way with her hip and drops the grocery sacks on the queen-sized bed in the center of the room.
She flexes her muscles victoriously at me and proudly states, “I’ve still got it! Do you have any idea how hard that was to carry all your crap from my car, to the elevator, push the stupid button, walk down the never-ending hallway, and knock on your door with my foot? Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy, but my Incredible Hulk muscles never let me down!” She flexes her skinny noodle-like arms once more, kissing her non-existent biceps before pushing me teasingly to the side and stepping into the hotel bathroom. “And now I have to pee,” she smirks, closing the door in my face.
I chuckle at her crazy antics, grateful for her fun sense of humor. She reminds me of Joy from Inside Out, if she was inebriated the entire time.
I take a slice of pizza and moan as the cheese touches my tongue. It’s absolutely delicious, and I am starving! I know I’m going to regret my food choices later today, thanks to acid reflux, but right now I couldn’t care less.
I hear the toilet flush as I bite into my second slice. Bree bounces into the room and grabs her own before sitting next to me on the bed. She kicks her feet up and rests against the headboard before devouring her slice.
“So, Luke’s a wreck,” she states matter-of-factly, her mouth full.
I glare in her direction, placing my half-eaten slice in the box. Apparently, I’ve lost my appetite.
“Way to skip the small talk, Bree,” I growl.
“We both know I’m not known for my subtlety,” she replies cheekily, taking another bite of pizza and causing the cheese to string between her mouth and the slice.
I roll my eyes before picking at some pizza crumbs on my large hoodie and refusing to address the elephant in the room named Luke.
“Look.” She bounces onto her knees, facing me fully and gaining all of my attention, her pizza still in hand.
“Luke was an ass. What he did is one hundred percent wrong. He shouldn’t have kept that from you, but he didn’t feel like it was his place to tell you, especially when his feelings were mucking up everything,” she says, her gaze trying to portray her honesty. “But you gotta cut him a little slack. The big idiot loves you, Liv. He’s pissed at himself for hurting you.”
I bite my lower lip, battling myself internally on how I should reply. “I know he does, and I know he’s your brother, and you don’t want to see him hurting. Hell, I don’t want to see him hurting, either. That isn’t my intention at all. I’m just not ready to let it go quite yet.” I warily look at her, gaging her reaction.
She shrugs one shoulder, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen her. “I’m here for you, Liv. I love my brother, and I know you do, too. But if you’re not ready to see him? I get that. I know we weren’t super close in high school, but I’m here for you. And if you want to make him sweat, then I completely support you in that endeavor,” she grins mischievously. “In fact, I have a brilliant idea.”
I examine her cautiously, afraid of what this girl might consider a brilliant idea.
She grins wider under my scrutiny. “Here’s the deal. Luke’s not leaving without you. He loves you and is absolutely terrified you’re not coming home. But he’s also wasting all his vacation time waiting for you to come to your senses when he should be saving it for when the baby makes his official debut, and he’ll actually be useful.” She rubs my st
omach affectionately.
“So, what I propose is….” she drags out the last word, patting my belly softly to make a muffled drum roll sound. “You come stay with me. You’re not ready to move anywhere permanently, especially after the shit storm you just went through. You need time to process everything before you make any big decisions. Specifically ones you might regret.” She looks at me pointedly.
“He’ll know you’re being watched over by his totally awesome sister,” she points to her chest proudly, “and that if you go into labor I’ll be able to take care of everything. He’ll also get daily updates, which will put him at ease while still giving you the space you want right now.” She nods triumphantly as though I’ve already agreed to her insane plan.
“Come on, admit I’m a genius,” she teases, nudging me affectionately.
I giggle lightly and shake my head at her infectious humor.
“Okay.” I shrug my shoulders, grateful I won’t be going apartment shopping quite yet.
I barely get the words out before Breezy is squealing and throwing her arms around me, bouncing up and down on her knees excitedly.
Apparently, I’m moving in with Bree.
I’m totally going to regret this.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Liv
Things move pretty quickly after deciding to move in with Breezy. I still haven’t decided whether it’s temporary or not, but she’s been very welcoming and has left the invitation open for as long as I need.
She’s pretty quickly becoming my best friend.
I found a doctor relatively easy. Dr. Fellows highly recommended her. Her name is Dr. Sarah Jolly, and we get along great. She reminds me of Wonder Woman, with long dark hair and legs that go on for miles. She also wears red scrubs all the time, but that may be a coincidence.
Because I’m 37 weeks along and am officially considered full-term, I’ve been going to my appointments weekly to check on my progress. Unfortunately, I’m only dilated to one centimeter, but Dr. Jolly says things can progress quickly, so I shouldn’t get discouraged.
Doesn’t she know you’re not supposed to tell a pregnant woman what to do?
I’ve finished filling out the paperwork Susan dropped off at my hotel a week ago, and I am now on my way to her house to give it back so she can finish the process.
She’s been very accommodating since Christmas, and I can tell she’s carrying a lot of guilt for how everything played out.
I pull up in her driveway, trying to shake off the bitter memories that overwhelm me. Adam cheated on me in this house. Luke had been forced to come clean about Adam’s cheating in this house.
I think I might be starting to hate this freaking house.
I take in a few deep breaths, trying to gain some control over my emotions. After a couple of minutes, I grab the door handle and swing the car door open, inviting in the bitter cold.
I hurry up the stairs to the front door of Adam’s childhood home, the bank paperwork underneath my arm, and ring the doorbell. Susan opens it quickly while holding a worn leather notebook against her chest, and I can’t help but eye it warily. It looks kind of familiar. I think Adam had something similar to it at one point, but I’m not sure. Thinking of my late husband brings a dull ache to my chest.
My heart is torn between gut-wrenching betrayal and a tender warmth when it comes to him. I have so many fond memories of Adam, and I hate the warring feelings bubbling up inside of me, battling which perception of him was real, making me question every moment we had together.
“Hello, Liv. It’s good to see you,” Susan greets me cautiously, acting as if I’m a scared little kitten. She knows it was her screw-up that caused all the drama a week ago, and she feels guilty for causing it.
“Hi, Susan,” I reply, tiredly. I’m so sick of all the drama, combined with being pregnant, that I’ve thrown in the towel. I just want to move on, if only I knew how.
“Would you like to come in?” she questions, hesitantly.
“I actually need to get going, I just came to drop off this stuff,” I reply, holding up the paperwork.
She nods slowly, seeming defeated as she takes the forms from my hands. The leather notebook is still tucked safely under her arm.
I turn to leave, wanting to avoid any more awkwardness, when Susan stops me.
“Wait.”
I turn around slowly, my eyes flicking to the notebook that I just know has something to do with Adam. As I said before, it looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.
Susan licks her lips before handing me the journal as if it is one of her most prized possessions.
“Here. I went digging in Adam’s high school boxes after Christmas because I couldn’t believe a word that boy said, but I found something I think you need to see. I bookmarked the pages that are the most important.”
I take the bound pages and note how soft the worn leather is. I begin to flip through the paper and immediately recognize Adam’s chicken-scratch handwriting.
I vaguely remember our English Lit teacher giving us an assignment at the beginning of our senior year. We were supposed to keep a journal or something and write in it every day for the school year. She had promised not to read the entries; she would just flip through them to make sure we met our requirements.
I’m not sure whether I want to tear it to shreds or hold it close to my heart while savoring every single word.
I swallow thickly before nodding at Susan and turning toward Bree’s car; she was nice enough to let me borrow it.
Apparently, I have some reading to do. I just can’t decide if I have the strength to study the worn pages or not.
Luke
I feel like I’m dying inside. And no, I’m not trying to be dramatic.
I’ve lost the other half of my soul. No one can survive that, right?
She isn’t answering my calls. She isn’t responding to my texts. Hell, I’m not even sure if she’s reading them.
I can’t stop thinking about her. The guilt is eating me from the inside out.
I’m so sorry.
Bree keeps reassuring me that Liv’s fine. They went to the doctor again today, and she’s dilated to two centimeters. She’s feeling contractions but they aren’t very consistent.
She could have the baby at any time, but it wouldn’t be unheard of for her to go past her due date either, especially since it’s her first child.
Since returning to Denver, I’ve read up on every possible scenario when it comes to delivering a baby, and the only thing I’ve learned is that there are too many possible outcomes to plan for anything in particular.
I find myself constantly on my phone reading about signs of labor, checking the weather, and looking up possible flights. I’ve mapped out my options between flying and driving, depending on departing time, and I’ve packed my bags. They’re in the backseat of my car, ready to go as soon as I hear from Bree.
I’m hoping Liv will reach out to me when the time finally comes, but I’m not holding my breath. I hurt her and made her question my feelings, but I refuse to miss Little Man’s birth.
Even if she doesn’t want me there.
I won’t let her down ever again.
I will always be here for her.
Chapter Thirty
Liv
I’ve had the journal for two weeks. Two long weeks. It’s 3:00 am, and I can’t stop staring at the stupid leather binding as it peeks from behind my alarm clock on the bedside table. I swear it’s taunting me.
Open my pages, Liv.
Read me, Liv. I dare you.
I glare at the notebook.
“Screw you,” I answer back, angrily.
Great. I just yelled at a freaking book. I’m losing my damn mind.
Scratch that. I gotta cut back on the naughty language before Little Man arrives.
I’m losing my dang mind.
Ugh…
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly before throwing off my covers and finally giving in. Grabbing the
journal roughly, I turn on the small decorative lamp sitting on the nightstand.
I open the worn cover and read the first page. A smile immediately graces my lips.
September 3-This is the stupidest assignment I’ve ever heard of.
September 4-I ate a sandwich today. The tomatoes were a good addition.
September 5- I’m already sick of school. Obviously, this is going to be a problem.
I shake my head, laughing quietly before flipping a little further into the book, looking for an entry that’s longer than two sentences.
September 22-I asked Liv to the Homecoming Dance tonight. It’s not like it came as a surprise or anything, but I’m still anxious to see if she says yes or if she finally figured out that she’s way out of my league. How did I get so lucky to land her as my girlfriend? She’s freaking perfect.
I bite my lower lip, my eyes beginning to sting. Obviously, I said yes and we had a blast at the dance. It was the perfect night.
Taking a deep breath in through my nose and releasing it through my mouth, I flip further into the journal, anxiety gnawing at my stomach.
After reading five more months’ worth of entries, I start to see Adam’s unique perspective on the most random things. Did you know he hated Thai food, but ate it anyway because I loved it?
He also loved pickles, although I never saw him eat them. Apparently, I had mentioned how I could still taste the pickles on his tongue after kissing him. Therefore, he never ate them again. I can’t help but feel a little guilty about that one. He always put so much pressure on himself to be perfect, even when no one asked him to. It kind of breaks my heart.
Mostly, it’s filled with random day-to-day things. The pressure he felt from his mom to be perfect. The pressure to go to college and make perfect grades. The pressure to break up with me. Thanks a lot, Susan.
I had known most of these things, but it’s different reading them through Adam’s eyes and being immersed in his perspective so fully.
March 7- Luke and I gamed all night last night. It was fun having a guy’s night. We ate a shit-ton of pizza, played Call of Duty, and talked about random shit till 4 am. I’m gonna miss that bastard when he goes off to school. Sometimes he feels like the only real family I have.