by Sadie Grubor
"Damon!" I shout, moving forward and placing my hand on his shoulder.
Erik moans, holding his hand over his nose and lip.
"You'll regret that."
Damon stiffens and prepares to strike again.
I grab his arm, stopping the next strike. Our eyes meet and the angry lines on his face smooth over. Turning to Erik, I narrow my eyes.
"Go home and don't come back. I don't want you around."
"I can't believe I wasted time waiting on a damn tease," he snarls through his swelling lip.
"Grow up. Name calling and temper tantrums are for children."
Guiding Damon inside, I slam the door in Erik's face and lock it.
I watch his shadow for a few minutes and wonder if I'll need to call the police. The whole time I've known him, he's never acted like this. For the short period of time we dated, he was laid back and easy going. When I ended our physical relationship and put more distance between us, wanting to just be friends, he understood and was cool about it. I don't know this Erik and I don't want to.
Damon's arms come around me, holding me to him. Each beat of his heart throbs against my chest. Soon, I swear our beats are synchronized.
"Are you alright?" I whisper against his chest.
"I'm sorry." His hushed apology confuses me.
"For what?" Pushing back, he allows me the room to look up at him.
"I didn't mean to get violent, but when he called you a—"
"He deserved the second punch, too. If you ask me," Mercedes chimes in and shrugs.
Damon chuckles before getting serious again.
"Do you want me to stay?"
I shake my head. "We'll be fine."
"I don't like the idea of you and Alex here alone."
Suddenly curious about him showing up at the apartment, I ask, "What made you turn around?"
"Mercedes," he responds. It’s then that I remember her getting on her phone.
"Oh."
"Are you sure you don't need—"
"It will be fine."
A mixture of emotions plays on his face and I can see he wants to argue, but he gives a light nod.
"Promise you'll call the police and then me if he shows up again." His arms tighten around me.
"I promise."
He kisses my forehead before saying his goodbye and leaving.
"You okay?" Mercedes’ hand touches my shoulder.
Turning, I step into her embrace. We hug for a moment before stepping back from each other.
"How was Alex tonight?" I ask through tears clogging my throat.
"Great, as usual." Mercedes sits on a stool at the kitchen island. "I tried to get rid of him, I swear. He just wouldn’t leave."
"It's not your fault."
I shrug and walk to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of water.
"What is the matter with him? I've never seen Erik act that way."
"I was thinking the same thing." I exhale, suddenly feeling exhausted.
"Well, I'm staying in the spare room. I don't trust that bastard. He may show up again."
I nod.
"Thanks."
"What are best friends for?" She grins, grabbing a small bouquet from the counter in front of her.
"What are those?"
"Garbage now." She slips from the stool and throws them in the trashcan. "Erik brought them when he showed up."
"Was Alex awake when he got here?"
She shakes her colorful head.
"No, he'd been asleep for about thirty minutes."
"Good," I sigh in relief.
"Come on." She motions for me to come with her to the hallway. "We have an early morning and you look worn out."
"I am pretty tired," I confirm, walking to the spare room with her, side by side.
"I hope that's Damon's work and not because of Erik's behavior." She nudges me with an elbow.
"Ced," I hiss and then laugh quietly.
"Shucks." She frowns with disappointment.
"Go to bed," I playfully order before going to my door.
"Yes, Mommy," she responds in a squeaky voice, entering the room.
For the next three days, the bakery is so busy, Mercedes recruits some culinary students for some temp work. While my crew and I work on the finer details and construction, they roll fondant, mix batters, and bake. We've used one of the students a couple of times before, so he helps with some of the baked goods for the front of the shop.
Damon has called every evening to check on Alex and me. I've also receive texts telling me about the baby's development. The first being:18 weeks.Our daughter's ears are now in position.And the second, sent the next day:You may start to feel her move. Please let me know if you do.
Damon has been working late because of a new client. They're demanding his presence, so he hasn’t been around very much. The longer he's away, the lonelier I feel.
I've never been one to feel lonely. In fact, I used to enjoy quiet alone time. I'd given excuses to people so many times, even my own father, so I could just stay home with Alex. Now, I get a fluttering sensation at the sound of Damon's voice. Disappointment stabs my chest when I realize he's not going to come over.
Today, day four, I've buried myself in work. Mrs. Manson, Scarlett's mother, is scheduled to come in for a final session regarding the wedding cake and I'm waiting for her to arrive.
"Olivia?"
The soft voice catches my attention. I look over the two-tiered chocolate cake to Scarlett and her mother standing on the other side of my table, looking nervous.
"Scarlett." I smile.
Coming around the table, I wipe my hands on my I bake so I don't kill people apron.
Taking in her perfectly put together blouse, slacks, high heels, and silk scarf, I stop myself from hugging her.
"How are you?"
"Good." She smiles, steps forward, and hugs me.
"You're going to get icing all over you."
"It's fine." She squeezes before pulling away and then focuses on my stomach. "Look at you," she coos, her hands hovering over my stomach. "Can I?"
I don't really like being treated like a Buddha, but I nod my approval anyway.
Her hands press and rub.
"Do you know what you're having?" She looks up from my stomach.
"Damon hasn't told you?" I furrow my brows, surprised he hasn't shared the news.
"No, he told me to ask you." She blushes. "I'm so sorry about how things—"
"You don't need to apologize. We were all in a tense and uncomfortable situation. Plus, I was a tad hormonal at the time."
"Still, I want to say how sorry I am. Heidi felt sick after everything."
"She shouldn't," I assure her. "Please tell her everything is forgiven, if you both can forgive me as well."
With a nod, she exhales, all the tension melting from her body.
"Let's go sit down." I motion for the women to follow me.
With the increased activity in the storefront as of late, Mercedes set up a small cubicle area with a table and four chairs at the far end of the kitchen. It's located close enough to the storefront entrance and far enough from the baking noises.
After taking seats, I grab the clipboard from the row hanging on the wall. This is another of Mercedes updates. The customers visiting each had a clipboard she hung on an even line of wall hooks, in alphabetical order.
"How are you feeling? Everything is good?"
"I'm feeling well. Tired mostly, but overall, she is doing just fine."
A grin spreads over Scarlett's face.
"It's a girl!" she squeals in delight.
I nod, laughing.
"Boys are wonderful, but a little girl is a precious gift." Mrs. Manson grins kindly.
"Ah, Momma. I love you, too." Scarlett looks to her.
"I was talking about your sister."
"You mean old lady," Scarlett grumbles just before they burst into unified laughter.
It seems Mrs. Manson is very much like her daughter, th
ough they don't look much alike.
"I didn't know you had a sister," I say, grabbing a pencil and unclipping the order papers.
She nods. "Yeah, Amber is older than me. I'm the baby." Scarlett rests her head on her mother's shoulder.
"Any brothers?"
"Yep." Scarlett wiggles her brows. "You ready for this?"
I wrinkle my face in confusion.
"Hunter. His name is Hunter and he's the middle child."
My brow remains furrowed.
"She gave us all color names." Scarlett rolls her eyes. "Amber, Hunter, as in green, and Scarlett."
"They are very beautiful names," her mother defends.
"At least I got Scarlett out of the deal. Poor Hunter." She shakes her head. "He usually just goes by Hunt."
"His name is strong." Mrs. Manson playfully nudges her daughter.
"Mmhmm, sure it is, Momma." Scarlett winks at me and I smile.
After another minute of playful banter, we delve into the specifics for her cake…or cakes. Scarlett changes the stacked four-tier cake idea for a cascading cake. She wants four different cakes, all different flavors, and for them to be individually sat on pedestals at different heights. Around them, she wants a display of fresh fruit and small pastries.
After tasting different flavors of cakes, fillings, and frostings, compromising with her mother on having one normal white cake tier, and promises to stay in touch, the Manson women leave the shop.
Damon
The time away from Olivia and Alex is tearing me apart inside. The urge to hurry back to Pittsburgh is almost overwhelming, but there is something I need to do first. Something I've put off for so long, unable to bear the pain of my reality.
"Sir, we've arrived." The driver's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
Taking a deep breath, I nod.
The driver exits the black car, opening my door. My shoes carry me from the paved road to the frozen earth. I pass so many marble markers in different sizes — mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters all around me. The large marble angel stands tall in the distance. She is tall, smooth, and white. In her arms, a small child clings. I stop before them, tears stinging my eyes.
Grabbing my chest, I drop to my knees. A quake of despair shakes my shoulders until the pain roars from my chest. The salty tears dip into the corners of my mouth before falling from my chin to the ground.
"I miss you," I rasp.
Walking on my knees until I'm a few mere inches from the stone, I trace the engraved name.
"I love you so much."
Pressing my forehead to the cold marble, I close my eyes and release my sorrow.
I'm not sure how long I stay this way. Warmth surrounds me and I feel a coat slip over my shoulders. I glance over my shoulder to see the driver already walking back to the car.
Wiping the dampness from my face, I move to sit on the ground. With my back against the stone, I talk to the family I lost.
"I'm sorry, Rebecca. I wish I would've been a better man for you. You were in so much pain and I didn't realize how much. Maybe I didn't want to see it. I regret so much, Bec."
Dropping my head, chin to chest, I sigh.
"But I love her, Rebecca. I love them so much. I hope you can be happy for me, even when I don't deserve it."
Turning back to face the stone on my knees, I press my right palm on the surface.
"You have a brother, DJ. And soon, you will have a sister." Tears pool beside my nose, the cold air chilling them until it's almost unbearable.
"Be a good boy for your mommy."
Bringing my hand to my mouth, I place my warm lips to the cold skin of my palm and press it back to the stone.
"Take good care of him, Bec. You are both forever with me."
Placing both hands to my thighs, I close my eyes and drop my head. After a few moments, I inhale the sharp, crisp air and stand.
"I love you," I whisper before turning back to the car.
Olivia
Stepping into Dr. Livingston's waiting area, I expect to see Damon. My stomach drops when he's not in one of the seats. My eyes sting and I blame my lack of sleep. Last night had been a restless evening. Tossing and turning, I couldn't settle myself. I was still awake when Damon's late night flight touched down at the Pittsburgh Airport. A feeling of relief had washed over me as I settled back into the pillows, but then I wrestled with the idea that he would show up at my apartment.
He didn't.
As I take a seat, the doctor appears.
"Hello, Olivia. Please come back."
"But Damon isn't—"
"He's already in the office." She smiles and waits patiently for me to follow her.
Inside her office, Damon stands at our entrance. His smile is wide, but dark circles tint the skin under his eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asks politely as he studies my face.
"Just tired." I take a seat on the small couch beside him. "Restless night."
"How far along are you?" Dr. Livingston sits behind her desk.
"Nineteen weeks," Damon answers for me, causing the doctor to smile largely.
"A proud father." She turns back to me.
"Are you well enough for today?"
I nod.
"Okay, let's start with your date. Damon says you two were able to have a night alone together. How did that go?"
"It was uncomfortable at first." I shrug.
"Why?" she asks, pen hovering over her notepad.
"I haven't dated in forever." I feel heat flare over my cheeks. "I wasn't sure what to do or how to act."
"I think we worked it out," Damon adds, placing a hand on my leg.
"Did you learn anything about each other?"
We both nod.
"Tell me about it."
"We talked about our families. Some about our past, school, growing up, and things like that," I offer.
"Good." She nods, taking notes. "So, I'd like to do an exercise today to explore how well you really know your partner."
Standing from her chair, she walks to a filing cabinet, takes out some papers, and sits back down.
"This isn't a test. If you don't know something, just say you don't. This is only to open dialogue about sharing yourself with the other person. Alright?"
"Okay," I answer.
"Yes," Damon responds.
Dr. Livingston slides a paper toward each of us.
"These are what I'm going to be discussing. Read over them and take a minute to think about the answers for yourself, not for your partner. You will be answering the questions out loud about your partner."
She allows us a couple minutes before jumping right in to the first part.
"Can you name your partner's three best friends?"
"Hugh, Scarlett, and I don't know." Giving Damon a sideways glance, I wrinkle my nose.
"Hugh would be the closest I have to a best friend." Damon nods.
"And Olivia's friends?"
"Mercedes and Felicity." He grins.
"Yes." I nod.
"Can you tell me one accomplishment your partner is most proud of?" Dr. Livingston moves right into the next question.
Tensing, I know I can't answer this question. I open my mouth, but close it when Damon speaks.
"Establishing herself in her own bakery." Damon is quick to answer first. "And Alex, of course."
The doctor's eyes lock on me, expectantly.
I shake my head just a bit.
"I…I don't…"
"It's fine. Couples who have been together for years are not able answer many of these questions." She offers me a reassuring smile, but it just makes me feel worse.
Damon stays silent. From the corner of my eye, I watch him. He doesn't seem upset or concerned. It only makes me feel infinitesimal relief.
"The next question is about greatest losses, but I think you both know and understand one another’s." She doesn't look up. "Next is about family, knowing about your partner's home environment as a child."
She
looks up from the paper and between us both.
"Are you confident you both know this about each other?"
"Not completely, but I have a general idea," I respond. Knowing what I do about Damon's mother and father, and after our conversation during our date, I can put together a pretty decent idea.
"I agree." Damon nods, crossing his leg over the opposite knee. "I feel the same."
"Good." She smiles and continues through the list.
In the end, we know more than I thought about each other. But in the grand scheme of things, I am ashamed I don’t know more.
"You both did very well." Dr. Livingston sits back in her chair. "I would like you to try the weekend together, or whenever you can arrange the extended alone time. If you need to go away somewhere for it to happen, then so be it. If you are unable to accomplish this before our next session, I'll prepare something different."
"My brother is getting married on Friday, so we've discussed the possibility of Olivia staying at my place for the weekend."
"Good." She smiles, standing. "Then I'll see you next week. Try to use the time together to have open discussions. Remember to let the other person have a minute to process things. Rushing each other into responses will only result in arguments and we want to avoid negative communication."
"Okay." I nod.
Damon stands, offering me his hand. I take it and allow him to help me to my feet.
The warmth of his skin and gentle pressure of his hand sends a pang through my chest. His eyes lock on mine. The twitch of his lip makes me wonder whether he knows how he affects me.
"Thank you." I pull my hand away quickly.
Outside the office, I pull my coat closed tight and fight a shiver. Snow has started coming down harder than earlier.
"Olivia?"
Damon stops me before I can step to the bus stop. I look over my shoulder.
"Please, let me give you a ride."
"It'll be—"
"Please. I'll feel better knowing you made it safely," he pleads with me, his jaw tensing.
Snowflakes pepper the exposed skin on my face, melting. Giving a nod, I allow him to lead me by my arm to his waiting car.
"Mister, Missus Knyght," the driver greets and opens the rear door.
I smile.
Damon takes my hand, holding it until I'm seated. He then slips in next to me.