Constantine: Britain’s Story Part 2 (Spearhead Lake)

Chapter 18

Britain

“Hey, Brit,” Damian nudges me, gently waking me up.

“Mmm…” I groan out and stretch, slowly opening my eyes. “What’s up?” He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, dressed in a suit, looking handsome and crisp. A stark comparison to my disheveled mess. He pushes the hair out of my face, placing the backs of his fingers flat against my forehead, gauging my temp.

“How are you feeling, darling?”

“So much better. Infinitely better.” I swallow and relief floods me when my throat doesn’t hurt in the slightest.

“I have to head out. I have those meetings in San Jose, but I was wondering if it’d be alright for me to come back here at the end of the week?” I tilt my head slightly. I’m not really confused, just surprised.

“Of course,” I smile at him. “This house is just as much yours as it is mine.” I laugh quietly. I mean, it’s basically his money that paid for it.

“It’s your house, Brit. Our — and I do mean our — hard work has paid for it.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. Damian’s changing. The old Damian wouldn’t have flat-out claimed that it was his money paying for everything, but it would have been implied. And yet, now here we are, sitting on my bed, completely comfortable with one another. I feel like we’re finally on the same page. We’ve reached a state of equilibrium, and it feels good. I’m actually going to miss having him around.

“The girls and I would love for you to come back after your meetings conclude.” I shoot him a smile, one that he returns.

“If you start feeling worse and need me to come back, just call, okay?” He lets out an ironic laugh, “Honestly, I feel like I’m just a placeholder in these meetings now. I’m just riding this train till we get to my stop, you know?” I do. I know exactly what he means. Life is just pulling you along, but ultimately you have to decide when you’re going to get off that ride and start living. I reach out for his hand and he takes it, giving me that one-dimple smile.

“If you ever decide you don’t want to do the CEO life anymore, I hope you’ll come visit me. My house is our house, Damian. We’ll always be a part of each other’s lives whether we want to or not…but I do want to. I mean, I want you to be part of my life still.” I pause, “And I’d love if Summer could join you sometime, too.”

Damian’s eyes get watery. “You always were too good for me, Brit.”

“But, if you ever buy a beach house, or an island villa, I hope that ‘our house’ situation goes both ways.” He laughs.

“It will. It does. I want you in my life, too, Britain.” He squeezes my hand, releasing it, so he can stand up and straighten his tie. He heads towards the door, stopping before he exits. “I’ll see you Thursday or Friday, okay? Want me to bring back some clam chowder and sourdough if I make it into San Francisco?”

“Oh my gawd, yes!” He laughs again and turns to leave, but this time I stop him. “Hey!” He turns towards me, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. And, B?” His gaze falls to my sweatshirt, “You’ve been wearing that sweatshirt for two days. You stink.” I scoff at him.

“Way to ruin the moment!” He laughs at me before finally leaving. I look down at the sweatshirt and a cold sweat breaks out on my skin. This is my sweatshirt, the one Liam gave me. I would never put this on of my own volition. The last time I wore this sweatshirt was the day he proposed to me. I glance over at the other side of the bed where the pillows have been rearranged for sleeping. The decorative euros are stacked neatly on the floor, instead of on the bed like I normally leave them.

Fully aware that I’m losing my mind when I do this, I scooch towards the other side of the bed and smell the pillow. And…it smells like him. What the fuck?

“Whatchya doing, weirdo?” Jess asks as she walks into my room. I sit up immediately, like I wasn’t just imagining the smell of my ex-fiancé’s cologne on my sheets.

“Uh, nothing. I think my sheets smell like a sick bed. Gotta change them today.” I shrug it off.

“So does this mean you’re feeling better? Because I’ve been dying to talk to you.” I haven’t talked to her since she brought me my antibiotics yesterday afternoon. God, that feels like nine years ago, not yesterday.

“Yeah, I feel better. And, yes, we need to talk,” I say to her, remembering Liam, and the letter, and how she didn’t tell me about it. Jess just plops down into the loveseat at the foot of my bed.

“Okay, first things first, why were you sleeping on the bench outside?”

“It was an accident. I wasn’t ready to come inside, so I sat down, and poof! Asleep. But hey, at the Greek Fest, I ran into Liam again and he said he packed the letter he wrote me in a suitcase.” Her face falls. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’ll get it, hold on,” Jess says as she stands up and heads towards my closet. She’s back a moment later with a tri-folded letter in hand. “So, when we talked about Matthias and you dating…I was harsh on you. And I felt like I was swaying your opinion or decision, and really how I felt about it was just a reflection of what I’m going through and how crappy I’ve felt lately. I didn’t want to give you the letter combined with my ‘don’t date him’ monologue and have you run back to Liam.

I put it in your closet, so when you got home from your date you’d be able to make an informed decision. I was planning to tell you as soon as you got home. I just thought you’d be able to spend the night with Matthias, then read the letter, and then make a decision.” She passes me the letter, and I just stare at it. It’s a couple pages thick and my name is written in Liam’s chicken scratch, scrawled across the front.

“I already made a decision,” I say it quietly, my voice still slightly raspy from sickness. Jess’ eyes go wide in surprise. “I chose Matthias.” Her eyes go even wider, but she doesn’t say a word. I look down at the letter in my hands, then back at Jess. “I chose wrong, though.” I laugh, lifelessly. “There was never a right choice to make. I’m not going to be with anyone, so none of this matters. Next time, just give me the letter right away, okay?” Next time. I laugh in my head. Yeah, the next time you find a long-lost letter from my ex-fiancé, make sure to hand it right over, like it’s an everyday occurrence and this is Days of Our Lives.

“I’m sorry, Brit.” Her tone is solemn.

I just shrug. “It is what it is. I’m just going to focus on trying to be healthier, and the girls, and the baby, and let life be quiet for a while.” She nods, the guilt on her face apparent.

“I really am sorry.”

“Really, don’t be. I’m sorry that you’re feeling like crap and can’t talk to me about it.”

“Yeah…” is all she says back.

“Well, when you’re ready. I’m here.”

“I know.”

“Okay, I, uh, desperately need a shower and to change, and then let’s have coffee and I’ll tell you all about the Greek Fest. Sound good?”

Jess nods. “Yeah, yes. I really want to know what happened.”

“Alright, I’ll see you down in a minute.” Jess just gives a dip of her head and exits, leaving me alone, with it. The full explanation I’ve been waiting for. Will it change anything? Do I want it to change anything? No. I need to keep a level head.

Damian and I have just gotten to a good place. We’re friends who co-parent and care about each other, but without the messy romantic love and intimacy, and now I need that with Liam. I need to uncomplicate our situation. I need to stop hating him and stop loving him. I need a co-parent, not a life partner. I already have two of those, Jess and Damian. And it seems like every time I open my heart — and my legs — everything goes to shit. I’m closing the door on that part of my life.

Maybe when this baby is in elementary school, and the girls are in college, I can revisit dating, but right now, it doesn’t make sense. This mythical person would have to be perfect in every single way. Otherwise, it’s just not worth it. Since that’s not fair or realistic, and since said perfect person doesn’t exist, I just need to let the dream of finding happiness with someone go.

I roll off the bed and walk the letter back to my closet. My old phone, sitting in the charging station, is calling my name and I know what I need to do. There’s new messages from Liam, but I don’t bother to read them. I just power it off, then place the phone and letter beside each other in the top drawer for another day.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I check my phone and see new messages from Matthias.

Matthias: Are you going to call me back? We need to talk.

Matthias: Please, call me.

My stomach turns as I close out those messages and open a new one. My fingers tremble slightly as I type out the text.

Britain: Hi, this is Britain. There is an ultrasound appointment this Thursday at 1:00 P.M. at Silas’ office. You’re welcome to come, but don’t feel like you have to be there. I have a prenatal check first, which usually lasts 30 minutes. If you want to come for just the ultrasound, that’s probably around 1:30.

His reply comes through before I can even set the phone back down.

Liam: I’ll be there.

Britain: Okay, I’ll send you the address.

I don’t think I can put the next thing off any longer. I open my contacts, clicking on Matthias’ name. It only rings once before he answers.

“Britain! God, I-I-I’m so sorry. Let me explain-”

I cut him off. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Mats. Really. I completely understand where you’re coming from and how you feel. If the tables were turned, I would absolutely not want your ex at an ultrasound.” I pause, hearing him sigh out in relief. “But I think it’s probably for the best that this ends now.”

“Don’t do this, Brit,” he says, his voice low and tense.

“I know you hate hearing this, but you deserve someone less complicated. Someone who can put you first.” I don’t want to sugarcoat it; the root of some of these problems is that Matthias doesn’t come first for me, not even close. There’s the girls, the baby, Damian, Jess, and ultimately myself. I would put all of them above Matthias. I love him, but not enough to let the rest of my life fall by the wayside. And I think maybe I’m finally realizing if I’m not taking care of me, I can’t be good for anyone else. It didn’t work with Damian and it doesn’t work with Mats. Nothing works with Liam, so there’s no comparison there.

“Stop fucking saying that, Brit. I choose you. Wherever I fall in your arbitrary list, I still choose you. Because guess what? There’s going to be times in our life where you’re not first for me. The company is my life, and I’ll have to prioritize that. You will, of course, be the only person romantically, but I get it, okay? I understand, so why can’t you just accept that I’m okay with it?”

“Because you’re not okay with it! If I prioritize being a successful parent, that means being a good co-parent, and that includes inviting Liam to doctors appointments, and ultimately, to be part of my life. And you really just dropped me off the other night and didn’t even say goodbye to me…you wouldn’t even look at me because you couldn’t support my decision. It’s unnecessary stress. I can’t be walking around on eggshells about every decision I have to make moving forward. Not that you’ll make me ask permission, but I’ll be so worried how it’ll affect you, it will stress me out.”

“You’re being really selfish, Britain.” What the fuck?

“No, Matthias, I’m telling you I can’t give you everything you want and need, but that you deserve to find that with someone else. I’m literally doing this for your happiness!”

“Then what happens when you’re the only thing that makes me happy? WHAT THEN, brIT?!” he yells at me.

Lowering my voice, I ask, “Please don’t yell at me, okay?” I can hear him clear his throat, maybe not fully aware how loud he just shouted.

“17 years, Britain. I’ve waited 17 years. I didn’t do all that just to fuck you after the Greek Fest and then say goodbye again.” The way he says it sounds crass. “Or is that all you wanted from me, huh? Is it?”

“You’re out of your mind if you think that’s what I wanted. I wanted to be with you. I fucking chose you, and all I needed was for you to support my decisions. But the very first thing I ask of you, you put your feelings, wants, and needs before mine and this baby’s. Of which you have every right to do, but that’s not the type of partnership that’s going to work for me. I can’t be with someone who steamrolls me or wants me to ask permission. I’m not that meek girl anymore.”

“You were never meek, Britain. You’re the strongest woman I know.” That can’t be possible. “Please, give me another chance. I love you so fucking much,” he laughs ironically, “so much I hate the thought of sharing you with anyone. And yeah, that includes your kids, but I’m learning, okay? Let me learn how to love you again, the way you need to be loved now, please?” My own words come back to haunt me, you screw up and you're fired? No, you screw up and you get better.

“Britain, I know you didn’t say it, but I know you love me, too. I know it. I felt it, 17 years, and that never went away. That means something. That doesn’t happen for no reason. And yes, we’ve both changed and our lives are different, but that’s going to make it that much sweeter when we figure this out. And we will. Because I was telling the truth when I said I’d do anything to make this work. I’ll do anything, including supporting your decision to include Liam in your child’s life. I know I’m going to have to give, okay? I know. It’s just hard for me…I’m not used to it.” I’m not ready to blindly say yes to him, but there’s a nagging part of me that knows I’m not ready to fully relinquish this either.

“Can I think about it? I do appreciate you coming around to being okay with Liam being there, but I don’t want it to have to be so hard, Mats,” I plead with him.

“I know, babe, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make any part of your life harder. I promise.”

“I’m going to think on it, and maybe let’s meet for coffee in a couple days.” Hopefully a cool-down period, a session with Carla, and a deep chat with Jess, will help bring some clarity.

“Okay, I’ll see you on…Wednesday? Is that okay?” he asks.

I nod silently. “Yeah, Wednesday.”

“Okay, and Brit, I’m so sorry. I just hate thinking about you-” he stops himself. “It doesn’t matter. I love you. I’m going to keep choosing you and keep showing up. I promise I will get better.”

I don’t have much to say to that. Talk is cheap. “I’ll see you then, and Matthias?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for having Silas make that house call. I really appreciate it.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he responds, sending the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

“You didn’t call Silas to come check on me when I was sick?”

“No?” It comes out like a question.

“Oh, weird. Um, maybe Jess or Damian reached out. I just assumed it was you because I had texted you about being sick.”

“I should have thought about that. I guess I didn’t realize how sick you were, I’m sorry. Just another way I failed, huh?”

“Stop. We’re not going down that path.” I can hear Jess yelling at me to get my ass downstairs. “Listen, I have to go. I will see you later this week.”

He replies, remorsefully, “Okay, I love you. Bye.” I can’t say it back, though.

“Yep, bye,” is all I get out in return. I look down at the sweatshirt I shucked off before showering. His sweatshirt. I already know, but I check anyway.

Opening the app on my phone, I check the doorbell camera from Saturday night and there he is. It wasn’t my imagination. Liam walks towards my front door carrying my bags of cookies and olive oil, then falls to his knees when he sees me curled up on the bench. Fuck. I think about the other night and my deliriousness. About how even in my illness-induced coma, how fucking euphoric it felt, him holding me. Goddamn it, Liam. Leave me alone.

I get up from the bed and yell down to Jess, “I’ll be down in like ten minutes, okay? Gotta do something.” I hear her yell back an affirming sound, so I move on shaky legs to my closet. I hate being so fucking indecisive! No decision is a decision, though, and inaction is still an action. I recall Carla walking me through this. I need to know. It’s time.

Opening the drawer feels cinematic, like time slows and the paper calls my name. I hold it in the palm of my hand, then slide to the floor, knowing I don’t want to be standing for whatever this holds for me. I just want to put this part of my life to rest, and this last piece of the puzzle is it. At least I hope it is.

I flip open the letter. Dear Britain…