28. October 4th
Rafael
Angie’s been keeping busy between work and the Chestnut street 1house. Every day this week, she either gets out of work and goes straight there, or she’s video chatting with Ivy in her room all evening. She only goes to the fixer-upper when she knows I can’t. Like when I have practice after work.
When I went there a few days ago and saw the red and black walls in the living room and hot pink in the bathroom, I knew without even asking that this was her doing. I’m not going to question it. If this is what makes her happy and makes her want to live there with me, then I’ll let her paint the outside in glitter for all I care.
I’d love to talk to her about it, but my gut is telling me she’s intentionally avoiding me. Of course I scoured the internet looking for evidence, hoping that this behavior is normal for pregnant people. I easily found a reassuring answer, but I’m no less convinced this isn’t my fault.
Tonight, I’m going to sit her down and talk to her. We’ve always had great communication, so what’s going on now?
“Hey, I’m heading home early today,” I tell my staff as we wrap up the next year’s budget meeting. “Feel free to do the same.”
“Cool,” my controller, Michelle, nods. “How’s Angie doing?”
It’s not uncommon for me to field questions like this. I actually love it. Before she was pregnant, I only got them from family who know how close we are. But now that she’s carrying our babies, anyone who knows me even a little bit asks about her.
“She’s doing great,” I say, the half-truth eating away at me. “Babies are measuring on track. They’re kicking relentlessly now,” I smile, packing my laptop up. At least Angie has let me touch her belly this last week in a few fleeting moments. Nothing else though, and no sleepovers either.
I fucking hate my bed now. My room might be the same temperature as hers, but it’s cold and lonely.
But I don’t let that image stop me from my mission tonight. I’m going to head home early, make all her favorite foods, and talk to her. I’ve already canceled my plans with a couple of my teammates that we made a while ago. They’re both dads, so I didn’t have to explain myself to them. They get it.
I didn’t tell Angie I canceled my plans though, and when I glance at my messages as I walk out of the office, I read the last text from her sent yesterday.
Angie: Are you still planning on hanging out with Small Fry and Wheels tomorrow?
Raf: Yeah. Why? Do you need me to cancel?
Angie: No. Just wanted to confirm.
Angie: Thanks.
Thanks, period.Like it was an after-thought.
I take my time grabbing every grocery needed and extras just in case. As I check out from the bougie store, I see a phenomenal display of fresh flowers and grab a large bouquet. I’ve only bought her flowers on her birthday before. The weather is always so cruddy on February 20th, so I always get the brightest, summer-like flowers I can find. But based on the outfits she’s been wearing lately, I know she’s loving the fall season, so I make sure to pluck an autumn arrangement.
As soon as I get home and give Razz some quick loving, I put the flowers in a vase and get to work. I don’t even change out of my work clothes—I just get to work on the random assortment of dishes. Veggie tostadas, enchiladas, rice, beans, fresh fruit, a meatless meatloaf, garlic-mashed potatoes, broccoli with butter and a heavy dusting of Tajin. I even have several chocolate mousse tarts she’s been inhaling lately from the bakery. I have no idea what she’s in the mood for, but something here must be it.
As I take out the enchiladas from the oven and place them on the table with everything else, I hear the door open and my heart pounds in my ears. Suddenly I’m incredibly aware of our playlist filling the room. It’s a sexy little salsa number we love dancing to, and even though it’s one of our favorites for years, at this very moment it’s wholly wrong for what I want to convey. I don’t want her thinking I’m doing this as some grand gesture to get back into her panties or her bed. I simply want us to go back to what we’ve always been, but I need her to talk to me.
Angie’s rightfully shocked to see me here as she hovers in the threshold, hand still on the doorknob and wearing that cute olive-green dress I like. “What’s going on?” She looks at the flowers in the center of the table and back at me. “What is all this?”
Eagerly, I take a few steps toward her and smile before taking her into a hug. “I thought we could eat together and talk about what’s going on. How you’re feeling.”
She pushes me out of the hug gently and looks up at me with soft eyes and a confused look. “Raf, I’m sorry, but I made plans tonight,” she says and my heart sinks. “I wish you would have—” she cuts herself off from saying anymore.
I tug at the back of my neck. “I thought this was a nice surprise. Look,” I say and gesture to the table. “I made all the things you’ve been craving lately.”
Angie’s pained expression cuts my chest open. “I… I’m sorry but I made plans with someone tonight and I don’t want to cancel on them, Raf.”
“With who?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Did she really just say don’t worry about it to me? That might be the most bothersome thing she’s said to me yet. Reaching over to the console behind the couch, I turn the music way down so it’s not distracting.
She closes the door, and tries to take a few steps away, but I juke to make up the distance. “What’s going on with you, Angel?”
“Don’t call me that anymore,” she mutters.
“Why not? Hey, wait.” I urge and place my hands gently but firmly on her shoulders to stare her in the eyes. “Talk to me. You’ve always been my An—”
“Don’t,” she cuts me off from saying her nickname. “Don’t do this to me, Raf.”
“Don’t do what?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“No, I don’t. Enlighten me.”
She sighs and looks at the table before turning to meet my eyes. “You know by calling me Angel, I’ll crumble for you. I’ll do whatever you want me to. It’s the button you push when you want me to be soft for you. And I… I can’t do that anymore. I can’t keep pretending all the innocent touches and smiles and nicknames don’t affect me. I can’t keep letting you use me!”
“Angie, when have I ever—”
“Emotionally, Rafael! You use me emotionally. I’ve always been here for you to let your guard down and be your true self; and I love your true self—”
“I love you too, Ang,” I say softly.
Her huff of frustration forms into a single tear falling from her beautiful blue eyes. “You love me like a friend, Raf. I don”t have any qualifiers. I love you.”
All at once, the air is sucked out of the room and everything in me stills except the thunderstorm in my heart. A tightness pulls across every inch of my skin and the hairs raise on the back of my neck.
She loves me?
“Since when?” I manage to ask. But before she can answer, there’s a knock at the door. I’m too stunned to move or care who’s there.
“Does it matter?” she says defeatedly, then opens the door like she already knows who’s waiting.
There stands Jared Holloway, just as shocked to see me as I am to see him. My mind reels back to that night freshman year when she left me at that party to lose her virginity to Jared—and all the nights following when she’d leave me to hook up with him.
“What’s Rafael doing here?” he asks her.
“I live here, asshole,” I seethe.
“You live with Angie?”
“Were you going on a date with him?” I accuse her and she rubs her forehead with a sigh.
“Ang, are you okay?” Jared asks, reaching for her arm and stroking it gently. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
“Don’t touch her,” I snarl.
“That’s enough!” Angie barks. “Jared, could you please give us a moment. I’ll be right there.”
He looks at me warily but nods to her. “Sure. I’ll just…be out here.”
When the door closes, so does my resolve. “Were you going to fuck him?” She crosses her arms and stares at me in response. “Were you?”
“I don’t know.”
To my surprise, my throat locks up and tears start to form. “I thought we had an agreement. Why would you fuck him when I’m right here?”
“BECAUSE HE DOESN’T MEAN EVERYTHING TO ME!” she shouts, but I’m too pissed and stunned and miserable to say anything back. “I can’t be casual with you, Raf,” she cries. “My heart demands more. I want, I need commitment. I want to be so thoroughly loved and committed to and labeled as yo—someone’s partner. Not a fuck buddy. Not a baby mama. I am wife material, Rafael. You can’t keep pretending I’m your wife just because you can’t let anyone else in. I’m sorry, but I need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop with all the affection. As platonic as it may seem to you… I can’t do it anymore. My brain—my heart—can’t separate platonic from romantic with you. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other for the rest of our lives,” she says through more broken sobs, touching her belly. “And I can’t keep doing this to myself, Raf. I think this is the only way I can keep you in my life.”
Has she been considering cutting me out of it? The thought cuts me deep—deep in a place I didn’t know existed. How can she possibly consider that?
When she opens the door again, Jared is standing on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. He looks up at us, swiftly climbs the stoop and reaches for her hand.
With every ounce of desperate pleading, I choke out, “Please don’t leave, Angel.”
She’s already one foot out the door when she turns back with a serious set to her brow as she tries to push through the tears. “Why, Raf?”
She crosses her arms and gives me a moment to speak, but nothing comes out.
“I don’t see how this can keep going the way it is,” she continues. “Tell me you love me like I love you. Tell me this isn’t hopeless. Because I either need all of you, or I need to find someone else who can.”
Everything inside me begs for me to respond, to say something—anything—to get her to stay, but I’m frozen. Why can’t I say anything? I love her so much. I care for her deeply, but there’s an internal force blocking me from telling her more. I do love her as a friend, but it’s not enough. Somehow, it’s both not enough and too much.
You’re never enough,I think to myself.
Angie wipes at the tear streaking down her face and sighs. “That’s what I thought.”
And just like that, she leaves me silent and crying as she climbs into the car of Jared fucking Holloway.
1.Shaky Hands by VACAY