7. Lainey
Lainey
My eyes were locked on my phone as Greg’s breakfast cooked on the stove in front of me. Bacon grease popped, landing on my arm. The searing pain jolting me out of my trance.
“Ouch! Shoot.” I turned, my ridiculous belly pressing into the counter as I flipped on the tap. Cool water poured over my arm, and the pain faded.
“Smells like you’re burning the bacon in here,” Greg grumbled as he walked into the kitchen. Shit! My phone was still turned on. I could see the light illuminating the counter, even though the screen was turned down. All Greg had to do was flip it over, and he’d lose it.
He was a bottled up pressure cooker lately, and I knew what was coming. Seeing the text messages from Lachlan would only send him over the edge.
Lachlan: How’s the cool air holding up?
It’s been amazing. I don’t think there’s a leak, the temp has been great all week.
Lachlan: It might take some time, so just don’t be surprised if it happens. I’ve got the stuff here, so I can charge it for you whenever.
Thanks.
Lachlan: I got in a fuse that I think will clear the alarm on your dash. And the oil for an oil change. Do you have deliveries today? Could you stop out after?
I hadn’t responded after that. Not yet. Greg’s breakfast needed to be made, and I had to see where he would be today.
If he stayed home, I would need to do the same.
My eyes flicked to the top of the fridge where I’d been storing my emergency money.
In case Greg snapped before I could get my feet under me.
In case I had to run in the middle of the night.
“Are you fucking listening to me?” My face snapped to his, and I could feel the blood draining from my head as he turned toward the fridge.
“Sorry,” I forced myself to say. “Go sit at the table, and I’ll bring breakfast to you.”
“I don’t want any of that shit if it’s burned, Lainey. You make all this delicious food for your ‘clients’, while I have to suffer with slop.”
“You’re welcome to make your own food if what I make for you isn’t up to your standards.
” My molars ground together as I forced myself to pull a plate out of the cupboard.
I scooped a serving of eggs onto his plate before adding a few pieces of bacon.
I’d already made toast, and I added that to the edge along with a scoop of fruit salad.
The plate rattled on the table in front of Greg as I set it down with more force than was necessary.
I don’t know why I had to provoke him. Why I continuously invited him to have a reason to hurt me, but couldn’t get my shit together enough to leave.
I hated being trapped here, but the guilt of putting myself in this situation was overwhelming.
I turned to walk away, but not before his hand grasped my wrist.
“You’re lucky my baby is in your belly right now. That shit won’t fly once he’s here.”
His grip tightened, waiting for me to say the words that would make me feel like vomiting. But I’d say them anyway.
“I’m sorry, Greg. Your mom did try to warn you about the hormones, didn’t she? They’re just all over the place, and I forget—”
He yanked my arm, his other hand coming to rest against my belly as it bumped into him.
“All those hormones, and it’s just turned you into a bigger bitch than you normally are. Pregnant women are supposed to be horny. You shouldn’t be able to keep your hands off of me. But all I get is nagged.”
“Maybe you should work on being the type of man I’d want to fuck, instead of someone who makes me sick to be around,” I snapped.
“Maybe you should work on being the type of woman who is worth loving,” he seethed. My mouth stayed shut after that. Because what was there to say when I knew he was right?
When Greg finally released my arm, I busied myself in the kitchen; cleaning up from the mess I’d made making his breakfast, packing his lunch. I kept a careful watch on how fast he was eating, trying to figure out if he was eager to leave or lingering like he’d stay.
Greg stood, brought his plate into the kitchen, and threw it into the sink. Shards of ceramic shot out, covering the counter and falling to the floor.
“Don’t wait up for me tonight,” he sneered as he flicked his eyes over me before storming out of the house.
My breaths were painfully shallow as I waited for my adrenaline to crash. I felt frozen in place, unable to move until I heard the roar of his truck leave the driveway and head down the road. But even then, it was hard to breathe.
I moved around in a haze, picking up and setting things how I knew he’d want them to be if he came home.
And when I’d finally gotten that all taken care of, I dragged the chair from the table to the fridge, climbed up, and grabbed the old flour tin from its home.
Popping the top off, I sighed in relief as the money I’d been storing there each week since I started Lainey’s Kitchen stared back at me.
I know it was cliché to hide money like this, but I never knew what Greg would do.
I had to be smart and cover my ass in a million different ways.
Just a couple more weeks. Before the baby came. I’d be out on my own, and we’d be okay.
I picked up my phone, finally ready to respond to Lachlan.
I’m free today. Do you think you could work on it?
Lachlan: I’m not going anywhere. Come out whenever you want. I’ll see what I can do.