Fight 3 (11 page)

Chapter 17

Gwynn

I wait to hear the door slam before breaking down.

“Breathe, Gwynn. He’ll come back.” I say over and over to myself as I sit on the bed, collecting my emotions.

He will come back. He’s going to realize how stupid he’s been. He has to. He’s my Eddie. I’d live with rebuilding a relationship with him, even if he doesn’t remember what we had, but I couldn’t live with him hating me.

I told him to leave because I couldn’t take his constant anger towards me. Something has to change, and as much as it hurts with him leaving, maybe this is what we really need. Time apart.

If he doesn’t come back, or if he brings some bimbo back here to fuck, I’ll know it’s over. I’ll accept it, as much as it will hurt. I have a job, Molly will let me keep filling in at the studio, and I can make it work as a single parent. And a single parent I would be too, because I’d fight tooth and fucking nail to get full custody of this baby. If he doesn’t want me, he isn’t getting her.

I can’t let my mind wander there, though. I know he’s going to come back. My Eddie is still in there somewhere. I can see the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I see the way he sighs and rubs his head. His recently shaved head. He’s seeing things, he’s remembering things, but he’s having a hard time telling reality from... well... reality.

He will come back.

He has to.

My phone rings in the kitchen and I head out to get it. Passing the closed door of the nursery, I stop and let it go to voicemail. Instead of checking who called, I stand in front of the door that I haven’t opened in a month.

Eddie hasn’t stepped foot in the nursery and I can’t go in there without crying. I know it sounds stupid, but I had such high hopes that he would be ecstatic about the décor of the room, that when he told me he didn’t want anything to do with preparing for the baby to come, I stopped coming in here.

I’m fairly certain Molly has been inside, finishing up things for me, but I can’t do it. I can’t see the hope that I used to hold. The clothes, the purple and black decorations, the tiny baby rock star theme. It’s so fucking cute in there and I can’t stand to look at it anymore.

Oh shit, the chair. I never finished the chair.

I sigh and rub my swollen belly when a pain brings me out of my thoughts. Lately I’ve been having these. Sometimes the pain is so bad I have to sit and stop everything I’m doing, other times it’s just a nagging that annoys me and makes it hard to breathe. My stomach is so fucking tight now, I rub it until the pain goes away. I can’t wait until this baby comes out and I can have my body back. Because right now, I feel like a fat, ugly monster. A fat, waddling, ugly monster, whose baby’s daddy wants nothing to do with.

With nothing left to do, and knowing this baby will be here in a month, I resign to finishing the chair. Pulling open the door, I smile at the finishing touches Molly has put in the room. There’s a tiny guitar rug in front of the purple and black zebra print bedding. A crystal chandelier is hanging where the ceiling light used to be. There’s a painting on the wall of the tattoo on Eddie’s back, the one on my arm, right above her crib, with her name in script right above it.

Before I let myself break down again, I gather the things I need to work on the chair. Turning the radio on, blasting the best, feel-good music I can think of, I start to get the fabric ready to cover the chair. I’ve already stripped off the old fabric and had new cushions fitted for it, so all that’s left is fitting and stapling the new fabric in place.

Songs blast through the house, from Mayday Parade, to Echosmith, I belt out everything I can remember of the music I used to listen to every day. Eddie, my Eddie, would laugh at the happy shit music that I’m choosing to listen to, but I need something to bring me out of my mood. I should be thrilled that I’m about to be a mom, but instead I can’t stop feeling dread over the thought of being a single mom.

The thought that he wouldn’t want me never occurred to me, and now it’s almost too much to bear.

Finishing up the chair just a few hours after starting, I stand and smile at my handywork. I’m pretty fucking awesome. Not many girls can reupholster an entire chair to make it look older than it did when it was bought, but I can. And I do have to say, it looks so fucking close to Eddie’s grandma’s chair that I’m awfully proud of myself.

Cleaning up the mess I’ve made, I leave the room to the nursery open to hopefully cheer me up that it’s all finished. Now all that’s left is to finish cooking this little bean until it’s time for her to come out. Grabbing a water, I head to the couch to put a movie on before dinner. Before I’m even able to get the movie started, I fall asleep, extremely exhausted.

“You don’t get it do you?” he growls as his hands find mine and push them firmly against the cold door.

“Obviously I do. You don’t want me,” I hiss, pissed off that I seriously thought he wanted me for good. Stupid girl. Even more pissed off that I almost told him I loved him.

“No, Red. I didn’t want you. I didn’t want anything about you. I didn’t want you invading my thoughts at all hours of the day. I didn’t want your fucking scent on my pillow when I go to bed at night, reminding me of what I shouldn’t have done that night I let you into my apartment, into my fucking life. I definitely didn’t want to throw my life story out there to a practical stranger...but I did. I shouldn’t have fucked you, because I knew I would never get enough. I shouldn’t have brought you here because I knew you’d break me. Nothing mattered, though. I did it all, knowing I shouldn’t have. I didn’t want you, Red. But now I fucking need you.”

I jolt awake, a massive pain roaring through my abdomen. Tears are streaming down my face from the dream, and now I feel like I’m going to die from the amount of pain my body is enduring.

This isn’t right.

Something’s wrong.
No, no.... This can’t be happening!

Finding my phone on the couch next to me, I call Eddie but it immediately goes to voicemail.

SHIT!

Calling the next person I can think of, she picks up on the third ring.

“What’s up ba-”

“Molly, I need—AAH!!” I can’t even form a full sentence, the pain is so bad.

Crippling over, I hold onto my stomach like I can stop the pain, but it’s not going away.

The phone drops to the floor and I scream out in pain before blacking out.

Eddie

I’m about four beers in and feeling fantastic. Other than the nagging voice in my head telling me I need to get back to her, I’m doing fucking GREAT.

The bar I’m at has a ton of ass to choose from, but each fucking one I see something wrong in. Problem is, I keep comparing them to her. The woman that invaded my life. Son of a bitch, I can’t even get off without thinking of her face. This morning in the shower I had to beat off to her fucking voice in my head, because anything else wouldn’t do it. Now I sit here, trying to pick something, well... someone, to fuck, and I don’t want to go anywhere near these skanks.

I turned my phone off when I got here, not to be bothered by anyone. I don’t know what the fuck is going wrong with my head, but I need to get it clear. I just need to fuck someone. I need to close my fucking eyes, point my finger at someone, and do her.

I’m just drunk enough to think that’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea, too, so that’s what I do.

Landing on some blonde haired, big titted, and fake as fake can be bimbo, I grin and laugh. She couldn’t be further from Red if she tried. Perfect.

It only takes me a few minutes to make it over to her and convince her I can give the best fucking orgasm ever. Of course, I’ve never had it hard in the looks department, so it really isn’t that hard to find willing women. Especially loose women, like this one strikes me as.

Not wanting to bring her back to the house, for the fear of hurting Red (which should have been my first motherfucking clue NOT to do this chick) I pull her in the bathroom and I’m on her like we’ve done this hundreds of times before.

Every time I close my eyes I see Red, though. Shit, not Red... Gwynn. Fuck, Eddie. Jesus, her soft face, her fucking ass. That fucking tiny ass.

No, stop! Not her, I need to focus on this bitch.

The girl is whimpering in front of me and I realize she’s been rubbing against me, but nothing’s happening.

“What’s wrong, baby? You want me to suck it?” she purrs in my ear, her breath wreaking of too much alcohol.

Her hands start to unbuckle my belt, but I step back from her and take a good look at the Barbie impersonator in front of me.

Shit, what the fuck am I doing? I have a motherfucking baby on the way!

“What?” She smiles at me, twirling her straw hair between her fingers.

“Get out,” I growl, pissed at her, pissed at myself. Pissed at Red.

“What the fuck? Dick!” She slaps my face and storms out of the bathroom.

I guess I deserved that.

I need to get home. We need to make this work somehow. Something is wrong with me, I know it, but I can’t bring back what we had. I can only start building something new with her in hopes that maybe one day I can learn to enjoy being with her as much as I apparently used to.

Hailing a cab, I give them my address and within fifteen minutes I’m standing on the front porch of my house, planning an apology and speech. She can keep me around, I will stop being an asshole. I’ll help with the baby when she needs it. I’ll help with bills. I’ll man up in that regard. Hell, I’d even do her if she lets me, but I’ve heard new moms are the furthest thing from horny ever, so I might not be getting laid for a while.

I open the door to all of the lights on and the music blaring. What the hell?

“Gwynn!” I yell over the music. Why is the TV on too? How the hell is she focusing on anything right now?

“Gwynn, I’m back dammit. Let’s talk about this!”

I search the house but she’s nowhere to be found. She’s gone.

Walking back up the hallway I see the nursery door wide open. She hasn’t left this open since the day I told her I wanted nothing to do with getting things ready for the baby. God, I’ve been such an asshole to her.

I peek inside and smile. Jesus, that’s fucking adorable. She’s definitely not going to be a sissy. Not like her dad, at least.

Holy shit, that chair.

How the fuck? My apartment burned down.

How the hell is this chair in my daughter’s room?

Slowly walking over to it, I touch it gently, as if it’s going to disappear if I touch it too fast. It’s fucking real. My grandma’s motherfucking chair. I sit down carefully, smoothing my hands over the ugly ass fabric. Smiling, I close my eyes to bring myself back to the days I spent in this chair.

My mind apparently has other plans, though, because before I know it I’m falling asleep in the comfort of my grandma’s chair, still slightly intoxicated.

“Hey you,” I hear her smile though the phone. Goddammit I love this woman.

“Got your fucking food. They weren’t happy with me, but I told them my pregnant wife was craving it and that you get crazy when you don’t get your cravings,” I laugh at the thought of the little Asians frantically getting food for the pregnant woman.

“Oh wow, thanks. I feel so loved, Tex.” She’s such a smartass, and I love her for it. I’m so giddy tonight that I’m having a hard time focusing on anything but the thought of having a kid with Red, and marrying the fuck out of her tiny feisty ass as soon as she will let me.

“Hey, listen. I was thinking. And don’t shoot me down. I’m going to find you a chair like your grandma’s chair. If I can’t find one, I’m going to reupholster one for you.”

“Baby, you don’t need to do that-” That chair is my past. She’s my present. She’s my future. I don’t need things from my past anymore, now that I have her.

“Stop. I know how much you loved that chair. I think it would be nice to have something in our house that reminds you of the love you had when you were a boy. Let me do this for you.” I know she’s phrasing it as a question, but that’s the thing with my Red. She never really asks for permission, just does whatever the fuck she wants to do. Just one of the many reasons I fucking love her. She isn’t anything like any other girl I’ve ever met.

“Jesus, baby. I love you more than life itself, Re- SHIT!”

The phone goes flying as I try and gain control of my vehicle. I hear her screaming, but can’t get to her now. That mother fucking car came out of nowhere! OH FUCK! I can’t get control of the truck, and between break squeals and crunching noises, everything suddenly goes very black.

Jolting out of the chair, full of sweat, breathing like I just ran a motherfucking marathon, I frantically look around the room.

“NO.... OH SON OF A BITCH!”

I remember everything. Every fucking detail of that night and of the months leading up to that night.

My Red.

That’s why she doesn’t want me calling her that, because I used it as a term of endearment and not as a joke nickname. Oh my GOD, I’ve been so terrible to her!

Rushing through the house to find my phone, I’m shaking, waiting for it to turn back on.