20. Half a Poptart and a Stick of Gum
twenty
Half a Poptart and a Stick of Gum
Leah
“ O kay, Leah, I need you to slow down for a hot second.” Amy paces around her small apartment like a crazy person. “You’re telling me that you’re not only pregnant but now, you’re moving in with the father—who happens to be the same man you dubbed a golden retriever?”
“Hey, as I recall, you’re the one who called him a sexy golden retriever,” I say.
“Well, duh. I do have eyes, Leah. The man is fun to look at. But I’m not sure if that’s reason enough to move in with him and have his baby. For the love of God, will you stop packing?”
I don’t listen and keep folding clothes to throw into a duffel bag. “Amy, I didn’t plan any of this. Hell, with a condom and an IUD, I really didn’t plan on it. But the situation is what it is. Moving in with Dylan is the best option…for me and for the baby. It will be better than the shithole I was going to rent.”
“So, what…you’re just going to move in and play house?”
She’s starting to piss me off. “Amy, this isn’t playing house. This is my fucking life.”
She sighs and comes over to sit down. “I’m sorry. This is just a lot to process.”
“How do you think I feel? I’m the one it’s happening to,” I snap.
“I just feel bad. If I didn’t have my mom moving in, you could stay here. I feel like I’m failing you.”
“Amy, once again, this isn’t about you.” I enunciate each word slowly to make sure she gets it. “I’m not mad that I have to move out. It is what it is. Moving in with Dylan is a good option. My only good option. I’m doing it.”
“I’m just really going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Amy. Why do you seem so much more emotional now than you were before?”
“Because my best friend is having a baby! I wish I was going to be around more for all of it.”
“Amy, I’m not going to war. We will still work together and see each other all the time.”
I’m the pregnant one, but leave it to Amy to be dramatic.
As I finish putting the last of my clothes into a bag, she asks, “Are you doing okay?”
Well, let’s see, I’m pregnant. I haven’t slept in close to 48 hours because I can’t shut my mind off. My stomach feels like it’s in one giant knot. And I’m about to move in with a man who I slept with twice before telling him to stay away so I could get my shit together.
Ha! Look how that turned out.
I don’t want to say any of this to Amy, though. She already feels like she’s failing me. As much as I love my best friend, I’m ready to get out of here. This chapter of my life is coming to a close, and I’m ready for a new one.
I’m just tired of listening to her lecture me about my decisions. I may be getting ready to be a mom, but I don’t need Amy acting like one to me.
I’m over it.
It takes a while, but I finally manage to get out of Amy’s. She was a tear factory—which is ironic because I’m the one who has an embryo wreaking havoc on my hormones.
I drive through the streets of Lilly Leaf Falls—the town that Dylan calls home. I guess now, it’s the town that I call home too.
It’s even smaller than Kensington, and all of the buildings are so cute and quaint that they look like they belong in a snow globe.
And everybody waves. Every single person I have passed has waved. In Kensington, I didn’t get many waves, and in Portland, I got even less. I wave back, but I’m pretty sure I look awkward as hell doing it.
Am I going to turn into a small-town girl? Journey would be so proud.
Two minutes later, my GPS has me turning into Dylan’s driveway. I’ve been here a couple of times now, but I’m beyond directionally challenged.
Stepping out of my car, I grab a couple of my bags and head for the door. Dylan answers, looking as attractive as ever.
“Hey, you,” he greets.
I’m barely through the door before he takes my bags from me.
Always the boy scout.
“Do you have more in the car?” He asks.
“Uh, yeah. A couple.”
In a flash, he takes the two bags in hand to my bedroom and then heads to grab the ones from the car and do the same.
He comes back and sees me still standing in the entryway like a weirdo.
“Come on in. Make yourself comfortable. This is your house now too.”
Man, that’s strange.
He walks over to a key ring by the front door and unclips one before handing it to me. “Speaking of which, here’s your key. The same key works on all the outside doors. I’ll get you an extra garage door opener too.”
I take it and put it on my own key ring before I forget.
He then says, “I restocked everything in the kitchen, but if there’s something you want that I didn’t grab, just let me know, and I’ll pick it up. Same thing with your bedroom and bathroom. I tried to make it nice for you.”
“Dylan, you really didn’t need to do any of that. I don’t need any special treatment,” I tell him .
“You’re growing a human life, so I get to differ on that point. Why don’t you go get settled in, and I’ll make us some dinner?”
I give an awkward nod while I walk to the bedroom. Once inside, I see it’s had a facelift. It was nice before, but now, there’s bedding that looks fluffy and extra comfortable. There are a couple of candles on the dresser along with a portable speaker. Holy hell, there’s now a TV on the wall. He really went above and beyond.
Quickly, I unpack my clothes, shoving most things in dresser drawers and hanging up the rest. After I finish, I collapse on the bed and stare up at the ceiling.
If you would’ve told me a week ago that I’d be right here, I’d tell you that you were fucking nuts. I’m still finding it hard to believe in this present moment.
I’m going to try to make the most of this situation, but I know that I need to keep my options open. This won’t be a permanent solution. I can save up and put away some money for the baby, and I can eventually get our own place—somewhere half-decent.
I’m not very good at this accepting help thing. Never have been. I tend to want to do things on my own. That way, if things go south, I have no one to blame but myself if shit goes bad. Plus, I don’t have to worry about me running out on myself.
Even in my head, I sound jaded. I guess that’s what happens when you date a slew of assholes.
Desperate to get out of my thoughts, I get up to venture out of my room. I make a quick stop in the bathroom before heading to the living room.
Looking around, I see Dylan in the kitchen standing in front of the oven .
The moment he sees me, he gives me a warm, wide smile. “Hey. How’s the bedroom?”
“Great. You really went all out to make a gal feel special.”
“I can’t take all the credit. Full disclosure, my mom and one of my sisters came over to make sure everything was nice.”
“Well, I guess I should thank them,” I joke.
I take a seat in one of the tall chairs pulled up to the center island.
He asks, “Are you hungry/”
“A little. Whatever you’re making smells good.”
“Lasagna,” he tells me. “What did you eat today?”
Quickly, I try to make up a lie. “This morning, I had eggs and a bagel, and for lunch, I had a big cobb salad.”
He sees right through me. “What did you really eat?”
“Half of a Poptart and a stick of gum.”
He lets out a loud sigh. “Leah, you have to start eating better and taking care of yourself.”
“Hey, I haven’t had any booze or caffeine,” I argue. But I know he’s right. “Dylan, I’ll try my best, but I basically live off of fast food and junk because I’m the worst cook in the world.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m an excellent cook, so I can help with that.”
“You don’t need to cook for me all the time,” I tell him.
“Hmm. Cook for you or have you eat nothing but gum and fast food? I think I’ll go with the first one.”
“Okay, Sparky. No need to be dramatic. How long before dinner is ready?”
“About twenty minutes or so. ”
“Do you mind if I take a shower real quick before we eat?” I ask.
Dylan looks at me with sultry eyes. “Leah, honey, you can do whatever you want. This is your house too. Take your time. I’ll keep everything warm until you’re done.”
Is this really how good it’s going to be? Him cooking for me and being ridiculously nice and understanding? That’s something I’m certainly not used to.
Despite what he said, I try not to take too long in the shower, although washing my hair is a beast all on its own.
When I do finish, I throw on a t-shirt and some shorts and go back to the kitchen where Dylan is scooping us out lasagna and pairing it with a big piece of garlic bread.
As he hands me a plate, I ask where he prefers that we eat.
In what I’m learning is typical Dylan fashion, he replies, “Wherever you want. We can eat at the table, or we can go to the living room and eat on the couch. Or if I’m annoying you, you can eat in your room.”
I smile. “Let’s sit at the table. Lasagna can get a little messy.”
While I have a seat, he fixes us a couple of drinks and then joins me. I take the first bite and hope that I don’t have to pretend that I like it. Thankfully, I don’t have to. It’s delicious.
“Wow,” I say between bites.
“Surprised?” He asks.
“Maybe a little.”
“My parents own the only bar and grill in town. I was cooking at a pretty young age.”
“That’s nice. ”
My mom gave up on me and didn’t give a shit if I learned to cook or not.
We sit quietly for a couple of minutes. Surprisingly, it’s not awkward. Maybe it’s just because I’m so tired, but there’s something comforting about this moment.
It’s probably because you’re just exhausted and hungry.
Feeling like one of us should probably say something, I ask, “So, what would you be doing right now if I wasn’t here? Would you be out prowling for pussy?”
That gets a loud laugh out of him. “Not exactly. I’d probably just eat dinner and then, turn on a movie until it was time for bed.”
“Really?”
He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “I’m not nearly as wild as you think I am. Sure, I go out sometimes, but for the most part, I’m a homebody.”
Realizing I may have come off a little stereotypical, I change the subject. “So, you like movies, huh?”
“I love movies. I have a huge collection.”
“What’s your favorite?”
“Too many to name. What about you?”
“Uhm. I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I don’t watch a lot of movies.”
“Don’t like them?” He asks.
“I like them. They’re just a little long for me to pay attention to. I tend to have the attention span of a gnat. I like to have something to do while I watch. If I don’t, I usually fall asleep.”
He takes a drink of his water. “Fair enough. What do you like to do while you watch? ”
“Drawing mostly.”
When we finish eating, he takes our plates into the kitchen and rinses them before putting them into the dishwasher.
I could go to bed, but I don’t know that I’m quite ready to be alone with my thoughts, so I ask, “Do you want to watch one now?”
“Really?”
I nod.
“Okay, which one?” The excitement on his face is adorable.
“You pick.”
“Hmm.” He ponders, and I can tell he’s going to take this job very seriously. “What kind of stuff do you like watching?”
“Uhm…”
“I’ll name five good movies. You pick which one you want.”
“Alright.”
He holds up his hand to count them off with his fingers. “Stand by Me. Forrest Gump. Jaws. Twister. Austin Powers.”
Without hesitation, I say, “Haven’t seen any of them.”
The look of shock on his face is comparable to if I told him I killed his dog. With wide eyes, he names five more.
“Heard of them but never seen them.”
“Okay, we have a lot of work to do.”
We make our way to the living room while he says, “We’ll start with Stand by Me since it’s already in.”
“Whatever you say, Buddy.”
I sit on one end of the couch and prop a throw pillow up on the armrest to lie on my side. I tuck my legs as close to me as possible so that I don’t invade his space.
After grabbing the remote, he looks at me and asks, “Are you cold?”
“Maybe a little, but I’m alright.”
He completely ignores my words and hands me a blanket. It’s so soft that I waste no time curling up underneath it.
The movie starts, and Dylan sits on the other end of the couch. I pull my feet up closer so that I don’t accidentally touch him.
But it only takes a couple of minutes before he looks at me with a confused expression. “You can stretch out.”
“I didn’t want to just throw my feet on you.”
He gestures for me to get more comfortable. I move my feet, and he puts them in his lap.
As the opening credits roll, he asks, “So, are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just tired. I haven’t slept much in the last couple of days.”
“Why not?”
“Just haven’t been able to shut my brain off.”
He nods. “Understandable. Let me know how I can help.”
“I think I’ll be okay,” I reply with a yawn.
He sets his hand on my ankle. There’s nothing special about it. He’s not trying to make a move or anything. It’s not sexual or expectant of anything.
But it’s nice and oddly comforting.
Maybe it’s that Dylan is so sweet. Maybe it’s that I’m in a nice home with an actual bed to sleep in later. Maybe it’s the stability of it all.
I find myself watching the movie and actually enjoying it. I recognize a couple of the kids but can’t place them, so Dylan fills in the blanks.
I’m pretty invested, but it doesn’t take long for my eyelids to get heavy. The past couple of days are catching up to me. I do my best to stay awake, but it isn’t long before exhaustion takes hold, and I fall into a deep sleep.