Not even himself.
Cody won’t let him spar at the gym. It’s when no one is around that has me worrying.
God, how I wish I could put aside my fear and anger, I wish I could swallow down my resistance when he touches me and give in. I wish I had it in me to go back to him and have faith he’d take my hand if I offered.
I wish I could trust him.
I can’t. There are too many red flags waving in the air — too many things Mason has to figure out by himself. And that makes me an awful wife to allow my husband to crash to the bottom by himself.
There’s still Natalie to deal with too. Lord knows if she’s stayed away or dug her claws in deeper.
“I get it, trust me, I do.”
“I know you do. I’m not sure if Mason realizes how much it hurt for me to turn him away when that was the last thing I wanted to do. He has to be angry, and all I have is hope I’m doing the right thing.” It hurts me that I have no other choice but to help him the only way I know how.
The more Aubrey and I talked the night I told her my plan, and she listened without passing judgment, the more I convinced myself I could do it. I could file for divorce, and once Mason came to me begging, I’d give him a condition. He was going to counseling either with me or by himself. We’d take one day at a time working through our problems. If we needed marriage counseling to do so, then so be.
The other day, I finally took down the name of an attorney friend of Aubrey’s, and I filed.
I also don’t want our baby growing up and finding out I wasn’t there to help his or her father, and I don’t want to live my life out without Mason by my side. In this short time, though, I have to do what I think is best. No matter how wrong it is.
I told myself that sometimes, we are placed in a difficult situation where we have to make a choice that eats away at us slowly. It forces you to come to terms with trying to vindicate the wrong, to make things right.
Right or wrong, I had to do what I think is the only thing to get Mason to admit.
Tomorrow Mason will be served.
Tomorrow is probably when texting and phone calls will start again.
I’ve fallen asleep every night with my phone cradled in my hand, my fingers hovering over his name before I drift to sleep, and I’ve come close so many times to pushing the icon and asking him to come to me. I’ll regret it if I do.
But that regret is tearing away with every passing day. It was there when I didn’t tell him about our baby. It throttled me into a vortex, knowing he looked at the papers and ripped them to shreds, plus I’m so afraid my plan will indeed backfire, and he’ll go out and do something stupid instead of taking me seriously. All of this has held my heart hostage in a swamp full of hatred at myself.
I’m on a rollercoaster of emotional overload.
Before either of us can say more, CJ comes barreling through the door with a shit-eating- grin on his face. It’s one of those that makes him look so much more like Chance than he does. Bree is right behind him, but Aubrey snatches her up, tosses us a wink, and heads back inside.
“Dad, can I go with Aunt Eden to the pet store. We have three names to choose from; I have to help her pick out the right one. It has to fit the dog's personality. I think I have the right one. We can swing by the taco place and get Pixy some burritos, so you don’t have to. I have the money you paid me for helping with Mrs. McLove’s yard. Please, dad.”
I glance from Chance to CJ; there’s so much pride in CJ’s voice. It grips hold of my pain that won’t go away and tries kicking it down. It jumps right back onto its feet.
I’m beginning to become accustomed to it as much as the crying. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, and despite how holding my dog brings me happiness, it hurts a little more, thinking I’ll be naming him without Mason.
It’s a raw and brutal emotional kind of pain. It hurts indescribably. It had me sobbing when I left the obstetrician’s office yesterday when I filled out papers. I had to go into the bathroom to regain my composure after pulling out my insurance card and seeing my last name. I sobbed into my hands after the doctor confirmed my pregnancy. I bawled like a baby when she did an ultrasound. Heck, I even turned away from the pharmacist after handing him my prescription for prenatal vitamins because I wanted to cry. It’s going to be a long seven months if Mason doesn’t seek out some help. A longer life of living without him and raising our child without being together if he doesn’t.
And, guilt? It’s eating me alive.
“We have soccer practice, son. You and Bree gave Aunt Eden the three names, let her choose which one she wants. Don’t be disappointed if she picks out something on her own. I’ll take you to her house when we get home.”
CJ’s shoulders slump slightly. For some reason, I don’t think it has anything to do with Chance saying no and everything with how quickly he’s growing up. God, the thought has me weak in the knees; I can only imagine how Aubrey feels.
It hits me then. The fact I’m going to be a mom. There is a little, tiny, human with a beating heart growing in my body, formed out of love. Mason will miss out on so much if he doesn’t pull his head out of the sand.
God, Mason, please reach out to me, to Chance, to anyone, please.
“Uh, if I can ride my bike down the street, I think I can cross it on my own. I know the rules, dad. If a car is barreling down the road, get as much of the license plate as I can before flipping them off. I’m a big kid; you even said so yourself, you don’t have to help me cross the cotton-picking street anymore. I can handle getting across the road, dude. Mom’s been letting me do it for two years now when you aren’t home. You don’t have to teach me any more lady killer moves either. I have those down packed.”
If I weren’t cradling my shaky dog to my chest, I’d stifle my laugh with my hand. A lot of use it’s going to do me trying to hold it in when Chance’s jaw flexes, his lips twitch, the veins in his neck start to bulge, and his eyes bug out of his head as he tries to hold in his laugh. Somehow for the sake of not embarrassing CJ, we both do.
“Sorry, Aunt Eden. I can’t miss soccer practice. Not only has dad been teaching me the lady killer moves, he told me soccer is a team sport. I show up to practice and games unless I’m sick. Tomorrow night I’ll come over and practice my lady killer skills on you. Then you can tell me if I’m doing everything right. I can’t practice them on mom because well, she's my mom. I’m going to do you right, Aunt Eden. Us Bateman men got it going on, right dad? Mad skills with some swagger. I’m going to take you out to dinner, give you my mega-watt smile, and then we can take Pixy and your new dog for a walk.”
“These skills wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with a girl named Alyssa, would they?” I bat my eye-lashes, letting out a childlike giggle.
CJ has a girlfriend; she said yes on the last day of school.
He’s only eight for God’s sake. Aubrey drank an entire bottle of wine the other night while flipping out when she told me all about CJ’s first crush.
“Geez, dad. I suppose you told mom about my girlfriend too. Man code dude, you broke it.”
I can’t keep a straight face any longer. I bury my face into the soft fur of my dog, take a few steps toward my car, and laugh until I nearly pee my pants.