“When were you going to tell me?”
I place my mug back on the tray and turn towards him, meeting his eyes. “Soon, Elliot. I was going to tell you soon.”
“How soon? Tomorrow? When the baby was born? When it was twenty and came looking for me? When?”
“I understand that you’re upset with me. I’ve spent hours agonising over how to approach this with you, and in the end, I decided it was best to wait.”
“For what?”
“For you to come back on your own. I didn’t want you to feel obligated. Returning needed to be a choice.”
“So you were testing me?”
“Yes. I suppose I was.”
He shakes his head “Why couldn’t you just trust me? Haven’t I made it clear how I feel about you?“
I lift my shoulder. “It’s just words. In my world, people say and do anything to get what they want. It’s what they do when they aren’t getting what they want that shows you who they really are.”
“And did I pass this test?”
I pick up half a sandwich and place a napkin on my knee. “You passed the first part.“
His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “There’s more? What are we? Five?“
“No. This isn’t petty or childish. It’s…important. While you were gone I… I had a breakdown.“
“A breakdown?”
“Complete with hospitalisation. I’ve, ah, been hearing voices for a long time. Phoenix and I could talk.”
“I remember you mentioning that in your letter.”
“I wasn’t completely crazy. I knew she was in my head, but hearing her voice and feeling her alive in my tattoo gave me comfort, and I didn’t want to see it as a sign of a real problem.”
“Schizophrenia?” he asks. His voice soft and gentle.
“No,” I say with a shake of my head. “There’s depression involved as well. I have schizoaffective disorder. It’s kind of like a blend of schizophrenia and bipolar. I can suffer from delusions and manic highs and lows.”
He takes a breath and sits up straighter, looking like he’s trying to absorb the information without reacting. I don’t blame him if he’s freaking out.
“I did it to myself in a way. I took a lot of drugs, and that led to a lot of trauma, and that kind of thing leaves a mark.”
“Is there a treatment?” he asks before clearing his throat.
“Yes. It’s ongoing. Medication, regular counselling. You’re welcome to attend a session with my counsellor to talk through my illness and how it will affect my ability to mother your child. And of course, what it will be like to live with somebody with schizoaffective disorder, what you’ll need to look for. If that’s something you still want.”
He frowns. “Why wouldn’t I still want that?” he asks straight away, searching my eyes.
“Because I’m even more broken than we originally thought.” I struggle to keep my emotions in check.
Reaching over, he takes a hold of my hand, running his thumb over my knuckles, the contact bliss after months without him. “I knew you were broken the moment we met, and all I’ve ever wanted to do is love you and find a way to help you. I don’t want to fix you, that’s arrogant and impossible because that’s not how the human mind works. But I want to understand you, I want to support you, and I want to be the person you trust to take care of you no matter how hard your days, your life, or your moments are. I want to be the person you call out to in the night. And above all, I just want you. I’ll always want you.”
“Really?” I ask as tears fill my eyes.
“Yes, really.” Lifting a hand, he brushes his thumb lightly against my cheek. “I love you, Paige. Nothing is going to change that.” He touches two fingers against my temple. “Not even that.”
I release a gasp, my shoulders shaking as he says all the right things. I need to trust him. “I love you so much, Elliot.”
He pulls me into his arms, holding me close. “Promise me you won’t shut me out anymore,” he whispers into my hair. “I can do this with you. I can stand by you and be anyone you need me to be, but you have to let me into your world. You need to stop making decisions for me. I need you to let me in, to trust me. I have chosen you, and nothing is going to change my mind.” He pulls back and lets his eyes travel down to the roundness of my belly. “The fact we made a baby together blows my mind. But I’m angry with you for hiding it because we would have gone through this entire pregnancy together. But, as it is, I have already missed so much. That’s so unfair, Paige. I get that you needed time. But, this is our baby we’re talking about here. I want us both to share in this.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to tell you. When I went to the airport to find you, I was too late. I missed our flight—”
“Wait. You came to the airport?” Naomi never told me that part. Did she know?
I nod. “I was too late though, and then everything spiralled out of control. I couldn’t even get out of bed. It’s only been this past few weeks that I’ve been capable of being around people again.”
“Jesus,” he says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.”
“You were. Your messages really helped to pull me through some very dark moments.”
“What was it like?”
“Horrible. I wanted to die. Phoenix was in my head, asking me to come to her. It was my mother who finally intervened. She’s actually been really good to me.”
“You’re talking?”
“Somewhat. It’s strained, but she’s come to counselling with me too. I’ve got a good care team here.”
“And what about your father?”
“Daniel? He’s…around. He’s a nice enough man, but I don’t know. It’s weird meeting your dad for the first time at twenty-six. He’s just a guy.”
“Makes sense.”
I smile. “I don’t think any of this makes sense. Except for you. You make sense to me.”
He slides his hand into my hair. “You make sense to me too.” Then he brings his mouth to mine.
Elliot
The moment our lips meet, I’m overwhelmed with need and longing. I want this reconnection to be slow and meaningful, but then she moans into my mouth and the months of longing collide into a single desperate need. I pull her closer to me, dragging until she's in my lap, straddling me.
Our mouths move zealously together, and I’m right back where I’ve always been, hopelessly in love with her. I need this woman. I need her like I need air to breathe, and I’ll be damned if I ever let her go again.
I stand up, carrying her with her legs wrapped around my middle. “Bedroom,” I say, breathless between kisses. She points to a door next to the kitchen, and I carry her in there, kissing her all the way. I don’t want to lose the connection our bodies have right now.
She lowers her legs once I cross the threshold of her room and slides my shirt up, urging me to take it off. I comply and lift it over my head, dropping it on the floor where we stand. Running her hands over my torso, she plants soft kisses over my pecs and along my jaw.
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispers.
I reach up and pull the clip from her hair, my chest constricting as I watch it fall around her shoulders in a mass of twisted curls.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I breathe, before I crash my mouth into hers, devouring her, breathing her in. I slide her cardigan down her arms until it drops at her feet and then lift her singlet. She raises her arms as I slide it up her body, delighting in the feel of her skin as my hands brush against her.
Paige
His eyes travel over my torso and land on my swollen breasts. “Whoa,” he says, reaching around me to unhook my bra with deft fingers. I let it slide down my arms to the floor and watch Elliot’s face as he takes in my changed body.
Starting at my waist, he slides his hands gently over each breast, kissing me lightly as he travels down my body, dropping to his knees. With feather light fingers he touches the swell of my belly and peppers my bump with kisse
s.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” he asks, worshipping my bump.
“A girl,” I whisper.
His eyes shine as he presses his lips against my tight skin. “A little girl. Have you already picked a name?”
I shake my head. “I thought that could be something we do together.”
He sniffs back his tears. “I’d really like that.”
My heart aches with the love I have for this man. I marvel that the fates saw fit to bring him to me, twice. I never, not even for a moment, thought I would ever have this level of devotion from another human being. But, here it is right in front of me, hooking his fingers into the waist of my pants as he slides them down my legs and guides me so I’m lying on the bed in front of him.
“Are you comfortable?” he checks, running his hands over my skin.
I nod. “I’m desperate for you.”
“It’s been too long,” he says before dipping his head, flicking his tongue over my clit, causing me to gasp out. “God, I’ve missed you.” He moans and dives between my legs, sucking and swirling his tongue around my clit, filling my body with a flood of orgasmic energy. I’m already on the edge when his fingers enter me, the sensations sliding over my tender flesh cause me to burst, my body automatically thrusts my hips around his mouth, and I clutch at his hair, gripping tighter than I should as I yell out, over and over.
He stills his movement and I slowly release the grip of my thighs and hands so he can sit up. He wipes at his mouth and kisses his way back up my body, swirling his tongue around my nipples when he reaches my breasts. All I have the energy to produce are short, shallow gasps as he touches and teases me.
Kissing at my neck he asks in a whisper, “Are you still allowed to…move on?”
“What? Oh, because of the baby? Yes… yes, keep going, please keep going,” I beg, desperately wanting him inside me.
Elliot
Getting the go ahead, I stand up and take my wallet out of my jeans before removing them as I take out a condom. Paige is lying on the bed positioned, and waiting, watching me as I move. “What’s the point?” she says with a laugh when she spots the condom then gestures to her belly.
“You’re right.” I flick the foil package aside before I climb on top of her, kissing her as I enter her warm, wet body. It feels amazing as she envelops me, and I move inside her. I have missed her so much, and I don’t have the restraint in me after three months to hold on much longer. I want this to last, but it’s too good.
“Oh god, Elliot. It’s too good!” she echoes as she’s wracked with another orgasm, her clenching insides milking me of mine as I pulse inside her, moving slowly to drag out every glorious feeling. I sit back, still inside her as I run my fingers down her body and over the bump that holds our baby.
“So when do you think we made this? At the bed-and-breakfast?” I ask.
“No, it would have been that first time we were together, when we got carried away and forgot the condom, remember?”
“I remember,” I whisper, meeting her eyes. She’s smiling at me with trembling lips as tears tumble from her eyes. I reach back and grab the towel she has hanging over the end of her bed and place it between her legs as I withdraw so I can lie next to her and take her in my arms.
“I’m so sorry, Elliot. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through,” she cries as I hug her to my chest.
A tear escapes my eye and slides toward my ear as I hold her. “Don’t be sorry, Paige. Just don’t leave me again, OK?”
“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”
Thirty-Five
Paige
Sitting in the waiting area of the hospital a few days later, I watch as Elliot nervously bounces his leg and skims through a magazine. He flicks it back on the table and huffs out his breath. “How long is this going to take?” he asks impatiently.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “I don’t know, but I hope we’re called through soon. Baby is kicking up a storm in these seats.”
“Yeah?” He grins, placing his hand on my stomach, childlike wonder in his eyes when he feels the gentle thump through my skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
A woman comes into the waiting area with a clipboard and a file in her hand. “Paige Larsen?” she calls out.
“Thank god,” we say in unison.
The ultrasound technician leads us to a room and gestures for me to lie on the chair in the middle of the room. Elliot stands by me, looking fretful and expectant. As soon as I’ve lifted my shirt to expose my belly, he captures my hand in his and holds it tightly, his eyes darting around taking in everything in the room.
“So we're doing a general health scan?” the technician asks.
“She’s thirty weeks,” Elliot blurts, even though the technical can see that on my chart. He has grilled me thoroughly for every detail about this pregnancy and is beyond excited about this ultrasound.
“Thirty plus two if our earlier measurements were correct.” She wheels the machine a little closer. “Let’s get this baby on screen,” she suggests.
The gel is surprisingly warm as she squeezes it over my stomach and uses the transducer to slide it around. An image looks like it’s zooming in and out on the screen at first, until she slows her movement, and the picture becomes something discernible.
“There you are little one,” she says, as my eyes fill with tears while I’m watching the screen. Because of my previous stillbirth, and medical history, I’ve had a couple of ultrasounds to monitor growth and placenta health. Seeing her on screen never gets old.
“Wow,” Elliot breathes from beside me. “That’s our baby, Paige.”
I nod, beaming. “She’s beautiful.”
The technician moves the transducer around my stomach and shows us different parts of our baby's body. She’s moving around so much, and I can feel each squirm of her body as she tries to escape the transducer. “She’s a cheeky one,” the tech says, trying different angles so she can take her measurements. “But it looks like everything is moving along nicely.”
Elliot and I look at each other, breathing a sigh of relief. “Look at what we made,” he says, kissing me on the head. “She’s so beautiful.”
“Just like you,” I say.
Elliot
I'm on a complete high after seeing my baby on the screen. She’s perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes. All organs functioning as expected. Baby’s healthy. Paige is healthy. I’m on cloud nine. We’re walking out of the ultrasound area together with our printed strip of photos in hand. You can see the baby’s face, hands, and feet. It’s so amazing to me that the baby in this picture is inside Paige’s body right now.
We walk arm in arm to the elevator bay and travel down to another floor to meet with Paige’s counsellor. They talk me through the ins and outs of her illness, telling me what to look out for—hyperactivity, listlessness, delusions as well as hallucinations. This could present at any time. But they’re mostly concerned about the effect her hormone changes will have on her leading up to the birth and in the weeks following. “We’ve done a lot of work with Paige so that she can recognise changes in herself. But as her primary caregiver you’ll need to be on the lookout as well. Don’t be afraid to bring your concerns up with myself or her doctor. We all need to work together on this,” she says.
I ask a few questions of my own. And when I’m feeling like I have an understanding of her illness, I move into the waiting room to fill out some paperwork that nominates me as her medical advocate if she’s deemed unfit to advocate for herself. This responsibility was automatically given to her parents during her hospitalisation, but both of us are more comfortable with me making these decisions. Paige’s parents don’t have the best history in making great choices.
It isn’t lost on me that a week ago I was in Australia, pining away for Paige and praying she’d still be in love with me when I returned. And this week, I have a baby on the way and the legal responsibility for my girlfriends health. It’s more than I was
expecting, but I’m more than ready for the commitment. Paige is my forever.
As I sign the bottom of the forms, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m so glad she’s getting the help she needs now. I hate that her life was so awful it affected her mind, but recognising these things is half the battle. You wouldn’t ignore a strange lump on your body, so why ignore the voices in your head? While I'm not so glad her mother is back in her life, I am grateful to her for getting Paige the help she needed. I harbour more than a bit of resentment toward Susan over the way she treated her daughter, but if Paige wants to have a relationship with her, then I’m supportive of that. Especially considering they’re all in counselling together. I’m nervous about our future, but all of this talking gives me great hope that everything is going to work out for us. It has to. Because I’m not going anywhere.
Thirty-Six
Paige
“Elliot,” I whisper, rocking him by the shoulder to wake him. “Elliot. It’s time.”
Lifting his sleep laden head from the pillow, he looks over at the clock on the bedside table and scrunches up his face. “No, it’s not. I’ve got hours before I have to be at work,” he complains, rolling onto his back and closing his eyes again. I watch him as he runs his hands over the top of his head, over the short-clipped hair I cut only yesterday.
“Elliot,” I insist.
Suddenly, his eyes pop open, and he sits bolt upright in bed. “Wait. What? It’s time? It’s time time?” he rambles, throwing the quilt off him and jumping out of bed. He places his hands on either side of my enormous belly and looks at me intently. “Are you sure?”
Struggle to Forever: a friends to lovers duet Page 67