18. Clay
Clay
It’s an exceptionally warm day in Boston, and spring isn’t officially here yet. This jog is exactly what I needed as I shed yet another layer after the meal I had with Abby’s family last weekend.
I came off a long week of shifts, so I was itching for a run, and today, the sun is shining. I didn’t hesitate to put my running shoes on and hit the pavement when I looked outside this morning.
Rios was exhausted and bailed on our run, something he’s been doing more of recently since things with him and Malloy are hot and cold lately.
But I’m also in my own world now that I’m coming to terms with the fact I’m going to be a father.
I can’t get over how smoothly everything went with Mr. and Mrs. Morris, especially Collette.
When I was clearing everyone’s plate, she came up to me and surprised me with a huge hug and took the time to clear the air.
Abby and her father went on a walk around the water while Collette spent nearly an hour talking about her first marriage and all she struggled with raising Frankie on her own before marrying Rick.
Then she apologized for the years of hardship she put me through. She had treated me unfairly, and although it doesn’t make up for all that time, it sheds some light on the why behind her behavior.
It doesn’t hurt that I got a good laugh from hearing that River nearly got a beating when Rick thought he was me. I sort of wish I was there to see that disaster unfold.
I think, overall, it was a successful visit with Collette and Rick. I’m glad they saw Abby, and we were able to tell them about the baby. I think having them here was good for Abby, and I think she shed a bit of her nerves as well. I can see she felt relieved after they went home too.
But it doesn’t mean I’m not slightly irritated still.
As much as we got to smooth things over with her parents, and I hopefully got a fresh start with Collette, I’m no closer to figuring things out with Abby.
I still feel like we’re in the exact same place when it comes to our stance on our living situation.
She wants to keep us on our sides of the fence, so to speak.
Honestly, I want things back with Abby, but she’s hell-bent on keeping things the way they are—in this damn friendship corner she’s built for us. We’re having a fucking baby together, and we’re not in relationships with anyone else. I mean, I still love her, and I can guarantee she still loves me.
If only I could find a way to prove that point because, at the moment, I’m only theorizing. But I see the way she holds her gaze on me a little too long when I walk by or the smoldering look she hits me with sometimes when I bend over, and I swear she wants me to kiss her when I’m about to leave.
I’m jogging up the steps to my apartment when my cell phone starts to ring through my headphones. I’m panting from exerting myself on the run, pushing the extra mile because my frustration has been getting to me lately. I pull my phone out to see Abby’s name flashing across my screen.
“Hey,” I answer, trying to minimize my heavy breathing.
“Hi, Clay. Sorry to bother you. Did I catch you at a bad time?” she asks, sounding somewhat regretful that she is inconveniencing me with a call.
“I’m just getting back from a run.” I get into my lobby and start to walk up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.
“Oh, shoot, I can let you go,” she says, and I can bet she’s gnawing on her bottom lip.
“Abby, what’s wrong? Is there something wrong with the baby?” I’m about to turn around and make my way over to her.
“No, no, nothing like that. I just, ugh, I’m sorry. I just, I can’t get my damn washer to work. And I have a whole load in there, and it’s already wet, and I just need this to work.” She sniffles.
“Are you crying?” I ask.
“Yes, Clay! I’m fucking hormonal, okay? I really wanted to do laundry today, and now I can’t. And my day is ruined! You don’t understand!” she whines, and I’m really doing everything in my power not to laugh.
“Okay. Give me a few minutes to get cleaned up, and I’m headed over,” I say.
“No, it’s fine. I shouldn’t have called. I’ll call someone else.” She continues to sniffle.
“It’s fine. I will be there in thirty minutes, okay?” I reassure her.
“Okay. Thank you.”
“See you soon,” I tell her before hanging up.
The moment I end the call, I smile to myself because she called me first. This might just be the in I need.
“Wow, this is really upsetting you, isn’t it?” Abby is fully bawling when she opens the door.
“Well, my day just keeps getting worse. I sat down to have some of my favorite ice cream, and I forgot I ate it all last night.” She continues to cry, and I can’t help the horrified look I give her in return.
“Don’t look at me like that, Clay. I’m growing a human!
I can’t control what’s happening,” she says, and I put my hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t say anything,” I explain.
“You don’t have to. You’re saying it all with your eyes.”
“Why don’t you show me the machine that started this horrific day for you,” I say, and she glares at me before turning on her heels and walking back toward her washer and dryer.
She points to the machine, and I inspect everything before assessing the damage.
“Do you happen to have a flashlight?” I ask.
“I think Malloy left one here last time he came over,” she says as she looks around.
“Malloy’s been here?” I can’t help the irritation in my tone.
“Clay, stop with the jealousy. I told you, he’s my friend. I’m allowed to have friends.” She opens cabinets in the hallway, finally finding the flashlight I need.
“You’re right. I just don’t love that it’s Malloy, that’s all,” I reply as she hands me what I need.
“I don’t know why you don’t like the guy. He’s been nothing but kind to me,” she says, watching me inspect the machine.
“I don’t get the best vibe from him, that’s all.”
“Well, he’s not the one I have an issue with.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, looking over at her.
“It just means that I think you’re not giving Malloy a chance. You’re judging him too quickly. And I think you should give him a shot. He’s a good person.”
I stop what I’m doing. “He was making a move on my girl, so I don’t really feel like being so kind.”
“First of all, Clay, I’m not your girl. Second of all, he wasn’t making a move on me. He was just hanging out with me. It wasn’t what it seemed. I told you this so many times already.” She rolls her eyes.
She’s fucking high if she thinks she’s not my girl.
“Really, Abby? That’s what you think?” She nods her head with a finality. I know her stubbornness to dig her heels in the ground. My ex-wife thinks she has won this battle. Little does she know I can play dirty.
I take one final look at the machine and confirm what the issue is. I put the flashlight down and grab the tools I need while Abby watches me attentively.
“You think you can fix it?” she asks, hopefulness oozing in her tone.
“Mmhm,” I answer casually.
Before I say anything else, I reach my arms behind my head and grab the collar of my shirt and yank it over my head.
“Clay, what are you doing?”
“I made the mistake of wearing a white shirt, and I don’t want to get it dirty.” I move into her living room and drape the shirt over her couch so it doesn’t get wrinkled.
“It’s a plain white tee. I know you have a ton of those,” she says, crossing her arms, feigning annoyance.
I take my strides mindfully toward Abby, moving slowly so that with each step forward, she’s walking backward until she’s leaning against her dryer.
I know my muscles are a huge turn-on for her. It doesn’t hurt that since she’s left, I’ve had a lot of extra time and pent-up aggression to tone up a bit. Soon, I’m pinning her against the machine, my arms caging her in, my breath inches from her skin.
“Abby, it’s been too long for you to know what’s in my closet.
You can’t say for certain what I do and don’t have, sweetheart.
Like I said, I don’t want to get this one dirty.
Also, regarding you being my girl.” I lick my lips, and I swear I hear her swallow.
“You will always be mine. Don’t forget whose baby you’re carrying, sweetheart. ”
I see goosebumps break out along her skin, and I know she’s turned on.
If there’s one thing I remember Ashton telling me from Samara’s pregnancy, it was how hot and bothered she was once she got to her second trimester.
If my calculations are correct, Abby is hitting that point right about now, and she’s probably feeling pretty turned on at the moment.
I quickly push off the machine and start going through my toolbox to find what I need to get her washer up and running again. It takes Abby a moment to compose herself. Before long, the machine starts working, and I swear, I think I catch happy tears pooling in Abby’s eyes.
“Do you want me to make you a sandwich before you go?” she offers. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Uh, yeah, sure. Thank you,” I say as I make my way through the kitchen and wash up.
“You can put your shirt back on, you know.” And just for that comment, I’ll be keeping it off a little longer.
“Yeah, sure, no problem.” I wink at her and go to grab my shirt from the couch. “On second thought, I think I’ll keep it off because I don’t want to get any of my meal on my shirt either. I hate mustard stains.” I make a face.
“You hate mustard,” she tosses back.
“But what if today I want to try it and love it?”
“You’re infuriating.”
“I don’t think you mean that,” I say, following her into the kitchen.
I saddle up next to her and help where I can. I start to stack her sandwich the way she usually would eat hers, and she grabs my hand. “Please don’t put pickles on it.”
“But you love pickles,” I protest.
“Not this week, I don’t.” She nearly gags.
“Oh shoot, the baby is revolting against your favorite snack?” I make a face, and she looks like she might cry again.