Chapter Fifty
Lacey
“Tell me again, why you didn’t go because you’re fucking miserable and while I’m all for an ice cream binge, we’re starting to run low,” Nico says, scraping his spoon against the bottom of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.
“Nico dropped an f-bomb,” Danny states, licking his spoon.
“Nobody likes a rat, kiddo,” Nico retorts. “Let’s keep the f-bombs between us or your mother is going to nail my balls to a cross.”
“That might hurt.”
“Nah, kid, there’s no question. It’ll fucking kill.”
“There you go, again,” Danny says.
Ignoring the two of them, I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth while balancing the pint on my growing belly. Nico’s question rings in my ears and I try to make sense of my decision, but every excuse is more pathetic than the last. The truth is, I should be there. Instead, I sent a sonogram photo with my father and Reina and threw myself a pity party by crying for three hours straight. I didn’t stop until Nico picked up Danny from school. One look at my puffy eyes and Nico sprang into action, grabbing the ice cream. For the last hour, I’ve been drowning my regrets in Ben and Jerry’s. Thank Christ none of us are lactose intolerant or we might have a problem.
“We should probably feed this kid real food at some point,” Nico mutters as Danny shovels more ice cream into his mouth.
“Leave him be,” I defend. “He’s living his best life.”
“At least one of us is,” Nico mutters, turning his attention back to me. “You’re not crying anymore, that’s gotta count for something,” he observes.
“I don’t think I have any more tears left in me,” I reply, wondering if it’s possible. At this rate, I might give a whole new meaning to the term dry eyes. Looking back at Nico, I hand him my empty pint of ice cream. “I should’ve gone with them to see him.”
“You never gave me an actual reason as to why you didn’t.”
That’s because I don’t know how to express what I’m feeling. No words seem adequate and admitting seeing my husband might send me over the edge isn’t something I’m ready to do. I’ve been struggling these last few weeks. Every day that passes it becomes harder to fit a mask to my face. Everyone is pushing me to go back on the meds and sometimes, I think they’re right. Then I go to the doctor and I see my baby on that screen and I’m reminded of the risks. I don’t care what statistics say, I don’t want to chance it. I’ve got one job, and that’s bringing a healthy baby into this world. If that means I’ve got to battle with my mind daily, so be it.
“Shit,” Nico mutters. “Give me all the evidence, they’re home.”
He moves quickly around the room, collecting the empty pints of ice cream as I rise to my feet and hurry towards the door. It opens as I reach it and my eyes connect with my father’s immediately.
“How is he?” I blurt before he can even set foot inside the house. He stares at me quietly for a moment and I notice his eyes are red. My chest tightens and subconsciously I lift a hand to my aching heart. “Oh God, what is it?”
My dad takes a step forward and places both hands on my shoulders. Bending his knees, he brings us eye level and offers me a smile.
“He’s fine,” he assures me softly.
I don’t know what it is about those two words, but my dry eyes flood with fresh tears, sending my theory up in smoke.
“Really?” I cry as my hand falls to my belly.
“Really,” he rasps.
Taking my free hand, he leads me into the living room and sits me down on the couch. As he takes a seat on the coffee table in front of me, Reina comes into the room and sits next to me. She gently drapes her arm around my shoulder and brings me close to her as the tears continuously fall down my cheeks.
“Tell me everything,” I cry.
“Well, we almost didn’t recognize him,” Reina starts, and I quickly pull away to study her face. Smiling at me, she tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “He shaved.”
“No way,” I admonish. As long as I’ve known Blackie, he’s always had facial hair. She nods in response. “But don’t worry, his hair is still as long as ever.”
“Reina gave him the picture of the baby,” my dad says, causing my eyes to dart between the two of them. “The look on his face…” his words trail as he shakes his head. “…it was beautiful.”
I bet it was.
In my dreams it always is.
“He kissed it,” Reina adds, and that bit of knowledge does me in. My shoulders shake as a sob sounds from the back of my throat.
I can see it.
If I close my eyes, I can see him lifting that photo to his lips. I can feel the love he has for her too. For it matches mine.
“I think it’s safe to say he’s still very much team girl, and she already has her daddy wrapped around her finger.”
I can see that too.
In my dreams, she’s as much wrapped around his heart as he is wrapped around her finger. For in my dreams they already share that unbreakable bond between a father and his daughter.
“For sure,” my father agrees. “Naturally he asked for you.”
Wiping my eyes, I snap my eyes back to him.
“What did you tell him?”
“He didn’t ask why you weren’t there, but his disappointment was written all over his face when he realized you weren’t coming.” He pauses for a moment, offering me a small smile. “He wanted to see pictures of you. Luckily, I had a few on hand and was able to oblige. He was really interested in knowing everything about the pregnancy. He wanted to know if you had any cravings and asked me to buy you a body pillow. Do you know what that is?”
“Of course I know what that is,” I laugh slightly. “I’m impressed that he does, though.”
“That makes two of us,” my father grunts before he releases a sigh and touches a hand to my knee. “I know you’ve got your reasons and I respect them, but you should reconsider seeing him. I think you’d be surprised by what you find.”
“I’m terrified,” I whisper truthfully.
“I know you are, but Lacey, it’s different this time. He’s different. I don’t know if it’s the baby coming or having hit rock bottom, but I see it in his eyes…he’s finally got a will to live, Lace.”
“You don’t get it,” I snap, brushing his hand away from my knee. “I can’t see him. I can’t lose him.”
I’m on my feet in a flash, putting as much space as possible between us. I lift my trembling hands to my head and I’m suddenly at my maker’s mercy. There is no making sense of my feelings or compartmentalizing my thoughts. There’s her voice and nothing else.
He’ll never love you.
Not sober.
He was high when he met you.
Impaired when he told you he loved you.
And fucking loaded when he married you.
Don’t get me started on the reasons he impregnated you.
You were nothing but a shiny toy.