I roll my eyes. “Watch it or I’ll tell Grandma you have a sperm count problem.”
He chuckles. “She wouldn’t believe you.” His eyes drop to my stomach and widen. “Is that…?”
I pull my t-shirt down over my belly, but Luke is having none of it. He lifts my t-shirt and places his hand over my baby bump. “It popped out yesterday.”
He kneels in front of me and places his face close to my belly. “Hi, Baby Bud. I’m your dad. I have no idea what I’m doing, but your momma is going to teach me.”
My eyes sting and I sniffle. “You’re going to be a great dad. Stop putting yourself down.”
He places a kiss on my belly and his lips linger. When he manages to pull himself away, he rejoins me on the sofa. “We need to talk.”
My heart stutters. “W-w-hat?”
Luke grabs my hand for a quick squeeze. “Nothing bad, I promise. Or at least not bad about us.”
“Okay, now you’re confusing me.” I place my plate on the table and give him my full attention. “Hit me with it.”
He stares at his hands for a moment before taking a deep breath and looking me in the eyes. “I want to explain why I didn’t listen to your side of the story after I accused you of cheating on me.”
Ugh! We were having such a nice night. And now he’s going to ruin it by talking about the Big Break-up. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“Yes.” He nods. “I want you to know about how messed up I was when I got back from Iraq.”
“You told me already.”
“Please,” he begs. I motion for him to get on with it.
“I explained how I had PTSD.” He waits for my nod before continuing. “Most people think PTSD is about flashbacks and nightmares. Although I have those as well—”
“Have? Do you still have flashbacks and nightmares?” I interrupt to ask.
“Not very often anymore. I went to a counselor and he helped me deal. He also pointed out hyperarousal was a symptom of my PTSD.”
“Hyperarousal?” I snicker. “I assume you don’t mean you’re horny all the time.” Although the man I knew ten years ago was horny pretty much twenty-four seven. That man would have never agreed to take sex off the table.
“No.” He chuckles. “Hyperarousal is this feeling of being on the edge all the time. It leads to irritability, angry outbursts, insomnia, and difficulty concentrating.” He pauses as if waiting for a response from me, but I have no idea what he wants me to say. “My moods were swinging all over the place. I could go from happy to angry in the blink of an eye. Not sleeping probably didn’t help.”
“Basically, you’re saying when Tommy told you I was cheating on you with George, you lost your mind.” Not big news to me. I was there. Trust me when I say ‘lost his mind’ is an understatement.
“Tommy called me when I was boarding a plane for home in Germany. By the time I arrived home, I’d had eight hours to simmer about what he said. It’s no excuse for what happened. There is no excuse for what happened. And there’s definitely no excuse for not reaching out after I calmed down to hear your side of the story.”
“How long did it take for you to calm down?” Because he was still pissed right the eff off when I saw him at F&J’s Events and a whole ten years had passed by then.
He rubs his head with his hand as he shrugs. “A few years.”
“Okay, I forgive you. I can’t imagine what you went through in Iraq, the things you saw.” To be honest, I had already forgiven him. I was merely torturing him by not admitting it.
“Thank you.” He kisses my forehead and pulls me close. “But I’m not telling you this so you’ll forgive me.”
I entangle myself from him to ask, “Then why?”
His cheeks pink ever so slightly. “I was thinking maybe we could see a counselor together, like a couple’s counselor.”
“Whoa. Do you think we have problems we can’t resolve?” I may have finally forced myself to consult a counselor when I couldn’t pull myself out of my depression after losing Rose, but I’m not a fan. All that talk and digging into feelings and talking some more. Yuck.
He grabs my hands. “No. Not at all. I think together we can take on the world. Or at least handle Baby Bud. But I want to make sure we are as strong as we can be together. I don’t want the past to ruin our future.”
“I appreciate your thinking, but I don’t think a counselor is necessary.” Luke opens his mouth to argue with me, but I stop him. “But if our relationship should become strained in the future, I agree to discuss seeing a counselor together. Okay?” He nods.
“Good. Now the deep stuff is settled, I’m hungry again, and the food is cold.”
Luke stands. “Then, I guess it’s time for me to feed you and Baby Bud.”
As he plates the food and sticks it in the microwave, I can’t help dwelling on everything he told me. I’m such an idiot. I should have known he was messed up back then. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited around for him to come to me. Maybe I should have been the bigger person and sought him out. And maybe I need to let this all go like Luke said before these what-ifs and should-haves ruin our future. Easier said than done.
Chapter 30
Give me something chocolatey and no one gets hurt. ~ Violet’s Secret Thoughts
I glare at my image in my full-length mirror. Ugh! I look like I swallowed a baseball. Since my belly popped two weeks ago, it’s been growing like gangbusters. Nothing in my wardrobe fits, and I’ve only just entered my second trimester. I’m not ready to buy an entire new wardrobe. I rub my belly and berate the baby, “Baby Bud, you’re making me fat.”
I pause. The second trimester. Warmth spreads through me at the excitement of overcoming one hurdle. I can’t see the finish line yet, but we’re still in the race.
The doorbell rings. Since two weeks ago when Luke came strolling into my apartment without warning – he claims he knocked but I don’t believe him – he refuses to use his key. I note he hasn’t returned the key either, though.
I open the door to Luke, and he hands me a box of chocolates the size of the state of Maryland. I can’t seem to get enough of the sweet stuff at the moment. Although, to be entirely honest, there’s never been a time in my life when chocolate wasn’t the answer to my problems.
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Luke kisses my lips entirely too briefly. I chase his lips, but he chuckles. “We’ve got a reservation.”
I grab my coat and hat and mittens. “You didn’t have to make a reservation at a fancy restaurant just because it’s Valentine’s Day. I’m perfectly happy to eat at Taco Bell.” I’ve been having wicked cravings for tacos, and there’s no sign of the craving waning anytime soon. In fact, I may have sent Luke racing to the Taco Bell at midnight the other day. And no, I didn’t share any of the dozen tacos he bought with him. He can buy his own damn tacos.
“We’re going to the Mexican restaurant where you can get authentic tacos, not the stuff from a fast-food joint.”
“Whatever. Let’s go. I’m starving.” I wag my finger at him. “And no smart-ass remarks about me always being hungry.”