Chapter Thirty
TRAVIS
C oming home, the sound of her sobs echoed through the house. I found her in the bedroom, collapsed on the bed, her pillow wet from all her tears. Scooping her up, I managed to get her to talk about what happened.
I knew she was worried about calling her dad. I just never knew the prick could be so heartless as to hang up after she told him about getting married. I called him back off her phone, but when he heard it was me, not the daughter he seems to push away, he hung up again, turning off his phone. The cunt.
No father should push his child away because she chooses something different to what he had hoped for.
When she walks outside, she’s dressed in baggy jeans, a low-cut top, one of my shirts around her. She’s smoking hot. But also, pale. The stress from talking to her dad has thrown her into a slump. “You okay, baby?”
She smiles at me. “I will be.” Mollie climbs on the back, wrapping her arms around me. Ain’t no feeling like it.
“Maybe we should have bought ourselves a holiday?”
“That would be nice.” Her voice isn’t as convincing as I was expecting.
Turning to look over my shoulder, she lifts her head off my back. “I mean it. We can get away for a bit.”
“With Janette and Mick?”
“Fuck no,” I reply, making her laugh. “I mean just us. No club shit. No anyone.” Her eyes dazzle in the last of the sun’s rays. “Could just get married there, too. Toes in the sand, wind in your hair, all that shit.”
She rests her chin on my shoulder, looking up at me. “Sounds perfect. Could we stay and never come home?”
“If that’s what you wanted.” Drunk on her love, I gently press my lips to her head, leaving them there until I’m satisfied I’ve got my fill and she knows I’ll always be here.
“I need to pee.”
“Again?”
“Give me two minutes.” Hopping down, she goes back inside, and I wait for her, my mind floating to weddings and images of us two together. Jesus. My life really has turned out the exact opposite of how I imagined.
“More wine?”
Mollie holds out her glass to Janette who fills her glass to the top. She’s sat next to me, my hand resting on her leg. I love them, but fucking hell, if I have to endure another meal out, celebrating the smallest of things, I’m going to ride off and never come back.
Mick gives me a look sitting opposite, suggesting even he feels the same way. Glad it’s not just me. “How’s business?” he asks, taking a sip of his pint as the girls talk. He places it back on the table before leaning back in his chair.
“Slow, but we’ve been busy.”
He turns his face away. Knowing. “Things okay with the club?” I don’t think he really wants to know, but he cares.
Mollie catches his question and looks at me.
I give her a wink. “They are now.”
“Good to hear.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “So, when’s the big day?”
Me and Mollie exchange a look. “My fiancé can answer that.” Because I have no fucking clue. Still, I give her my biggest smile for good measure.
She blushes, and my grip on her leg tightens. Shit, I want to get her home and back in restraints. I slide my hand up her thigh, making her stiffen. Yep, she wants it too.
“Uh, well,” she splutters. “We haven’t really spoken about it.” She laughs, taking a sip of her wine. Is she nervous, or is my hand on her leg just having a huge effect on her?
“No, come on. Do you know how long we’ve waited for someone like you to come along and make Travis happy,” Janette practically sings next to Mick. “Will it be a big white wedding or will your riff-raff be there?” She throws me a look.
I cock a brow at my aunt. “We’re running away to get married alone. There, you happy?”
Her mouth opens to gaping hole, making me grin. “You wouldn’t.”
I fucking would.
“Mick, tell him. He can’t do that.” She flaps, looking at Mick for moral support.
She doesn’t get it. “He can do what he wants.”
Mollie scoffs into her glass, and I pat her back when it turns into more of a choke.
“Oh, God. Sorry.” She grabs a napkin and dabs the side of her mouth.
“What is it?”
Blowing her nose, she then looks at me, her eyes falling flat. “Just like that, you can do what you want but God forbid I should go for what I want.” She blinks as though in apology at hearing herself for blurting that out. But she needn’t worry. “You’re lucky to have a family who just want you to be happy, that’s all.”
I sit upright, my hand moving to her nape. “You marry me, and they’re your family too.”
Mollie smiles, resting her forehead against mine. Relaxing.
“Your dad doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
Her eyes close. “Can we just run away?” she whispers for only me to hear.
Mollie all to myself, twenty-four seven? I just might. Stroking her cheek with my thumb, I say, “Where do you want to go?”
She hums a little noise, and it’s the softest thing I’ve ever heard. She’s really thinking about this. “Where I can put my toes in the water and walk along the sand.”
Janette coughs, and I place a kiss on Mollie’s forehead. “Sounds like heaven.”
She pulls back, looking up at me. “You know it?” She smiles.
I smile at her. “Baby, I see a little slice of heaven every day.”
“Well,” Janette starts, and Mollie and I sit back in our chairs, my hand back in place on her leg.
Taking a quick swig of wine, Janette continues, “Maybe if we’d been harder on you, you would actually give a shit about how we feel. Perhaps then you wouldn’t make such stupid jokes.”
I smirk, tilting my head her way. I can’t help myself. “Who says it’s a joke?” I mean it. If Mollie tells me she wants to get away and get married just us two, I’ll do it.
“It’s not?”
“I don’t know,” I half laugh. “We haven’t spoken about it.”
Janette looks between us all as we all watch her getting worked up. “What about when you have kids, will you be as mean and decide not to tell anyone?”
I laugh. “No. That won’t happen.”
“Oh, good,” she says disingenuously.
“Because we probably won’t have children.”
“What?” she says.
Shit, this is tiring. “Kids. We’re not having any.”
The table falls into deep silence. Mollie fidgets under my hold. What the hell is happening here? We’ve gone from birthday meal to being quizzed about our future in no time at all.
“What do you mean?”
“Love,” Mick says, trying to settle my aunt who’s positively confused now.
“Don’t love me. He’d make an excellent father.” She looks at me. “You really would, Travis.” Shaking her head, she links her hands in front of her. “You don’t want kids?” she questions again, checking to make sure.
“ We don’t want kids,” I correct her. Mollie told me she was fine with not having children if it meant she kept me.
Mollie and Janette exchange a glance, one I would have missed had I not been looking. She doesn’t say any more, but Mollie stands, grabbing her bag. “Excuse me. I need the ladies’.”
She walks off, and I can’t help but admire her as she goes.
“Is she feeling okay?” Janette asks.
Mick takes a sip of his beer, looking in her direction.
“What?” I ask.
“Mollie. Is she feeling okay now?” My eyes meet hers, and her arms cross, elbows leaning on the table.
“I think so.” Why’s she asking me this? “Mollie’s fine.” I pick up my pint, taking a sip. “She’s just getting over her chest infection, that’s all.”
Janette looks away, her eyes downcast .
“You think otherwise?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she says hastily.
I look at Mick who shrugs. “But?” I drag out the word, my free arm resting on the back of Mollie’s empty chair.
Janette looks unsure if she should speak her mind. “I think she might already be pregnant.”
I don’t move, but the inside of my mouth takes a heavy beating.
“What?” Mick asks for me.
Janette’s gaze remains on my unmoving one. “The engagement party you had at the clubhouse. Didn’t you notice how tired she was?”
“She was sick,” I say, my tone all but dead.
“True, but what about the constant peeing?”
That… that hasn’t gone unnoticed, but she could just be out of sorts due to her dad. Can being out of sorts change how many times you pee?
“And there was today.”
“What was today?” I snap.
“Before we came out. She made a cup of tea, but couldn’t drink it.”
My eyes screw tight. “How the fuck does that mean she’s pregnant?”
“Watch it,” Mick warns me.
I place my pint back on the table, running my hand down my face. I don’t understand any of this, but I don’t like where this conversation is heading. Women have a weird sixth sense about this sort of shit, and one thing’s for sure, Janette wouldn’t have said anything if it didn’t hold any weight.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Janette sighs.
I shut my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I just don’t get how not drinking tea means she’s pregnant?”
“Her taste is off,” she says simply.
Her taste? Shit. She added so much salt to her meal, even I wondered what the fuck she was doing.
“You have been safe, haven’t you?”
“Good Lord, woman.” Mick downs the rest of his pint. “He’s twenty-five, not fifteen.”
“No, but, antibiotics mess with the pill. Everyone knows that.”
Do they? Because I fucking didn’t. We’ve been fucking nonstop for weeks. It never occurred to me that it could mess with her pill. Did she know? Jesus, my fucking sanity begins spiralling out of control .
Looking up, I see Mollie walking back to us. I quickly remove my wallet and slap some notes on the table, panic rising like a tidal wave about to crash against the shore. “Make sure you get Mollie home,” I say to Mick and Janette without looking at them, standing and getting out of the restaurant before she gets back to the table.
I don’t turn around as I swing open the door. My fucking heart is about to stop given the intense rate at which it’s trying to leave my chest. With every step I take, I wonder what the fuck I’m doing. Janette could have this all wrong. Mollie could just be sick. But, could she already know? Is she too scared to tell me, given how she assumed I’d react? Like, how I am fucking reacting right now.
What have I done? I’ve made her fearful to tell me the truth. Made her doubt herself and what we have. I’m a bastard. A complete and utter, cunt.
Unless she knew? Everyone knows antibiotics mess with the pill.
Did Mollie know? She can’t have. She wouldn’t.
Would she?
I can’t use it as an excuse, but my thoughts aren’t my own. My actions are purely being fuelled by stress and panic.
It’s dark out now, the air, cold. Even with the change of temperature, the image of my parents floods my vision. I can’t shake it. Can’t unsee them leaving again. Can’t unsee their backs being turned. Pressing my hand to my head, I will the unwanted thoughts to go the fuck away as I stomp my way to my bike. Jesus fucking Christ. What is the matter with me? Anyone would think I’d just been told someone was dying.
The usual Saturday night crowds start to emerge on the streets, but I don’t look at anyone passing by. I swing my leg over the saddle and grab my helmet, watching the woman I love inside, make her way back to the table where my aunt and uncle are still sitting.
She looks alarmed when Janette obviously tells her I left, and her head swings around the restaurant, checking.
I start the engine and turn on the lights, looking back up as I twist the throttle a few times.
She swings back to look through the glass, her eyes squinting as she searches for me.
I don’t know if she can see my face, but I can see hers. Watching it turn grey tears me apart, but I need to get the fuck out of here. Right fucking now. And I know by the way hers drops, the sombre way in which she suddenly looks so defeated and confused, that I should go back inside.
But all rationale has shot out the fucking window. So I don’t.