Chapter Twenty-Seven
BELLA
I stir awake, and for a second, forgetting Micaela isn’t here, I freak out when I can’t remember the last time I checked on her.
My breasts are sore and need to be relieved.
Then I feel a different kind of soreness between my legs and the memories of last night come flooding back to me.
After Marco made love to me, he asked if I wanted to shower, but I was too exhausted.
Between the two orgasms he gave me and the last six weeks of not getting a full night’s sleep, all I wanted to do was cuddle up to Marco and pass out, and that’s exactly what we did.
As soon as his arm came out and he pulled me into him, my head hit his chest and I was out.
Marco’s body might be hard, but it’s my new favorite pillow.
Speaking of which… I look next to me and see the bed is empty.
I listen for a second, and when I don’t hear anything, an uneasy feeling washes over me.
There’s no way after the night we shared, he would leave me.
I look over at the nightstand and see his cell phone is gone.
Scooping up the shirt he took off last night from the ground, I throw it on.
My mind is racing, and I can feel my body beginning to shake nervously.
I tell myself to calm down, he is probably just in the bathroom or kitchen, but I can’t stop myself from getting worked up.
I grab my phone and see it’s only five in the morning.
I start to search the house, the bedrooms, the bathrooms, but there’s no Marco.
When I get to the kitchen, I check the coffee maker to see if he made himself any coffee, since it’s the first thing he does every morning.
The pot is still cold. I step out into the garage and switch the light on.
My stomach plummets, the blood in my body draining downward.
I clutch my chest, suddenly struggling to catch my breath.
Marco’s car is gone.
Gone.
He left me. Again.
I turn the light back off and close the door, then I pull up his name in my contacts and hit send. It doesn’t even ring before it goes to voicemail. I hit end and then try again. Voicemail again. I do this several more times. Each time it goes directly to his voicemail.
I pull up our messages and send him a text. Waiting for it to go through, I hold my breath.
I am not this girl.
I am not this insecure girl, freaking out over a guy leaving.
But I am this girl. Marco repeatedly leaving has turned me into this girl.
And I hate this girl.
The text message turns green, which tells me his phone is off. Running back to the room, I look for a note. I search behind the bed, under the bed, on the counter in the bathroom. Nothing. He’s just fucking gone.
Needing to calm myself down, I jump into the shower. The hot water that would normally calm my nerves, does nothing for me right now. After I’m done rinsing off, I go back to my room to get dressed and head over to my parents’ house. Maybe Marco went to see our daughter.
I make it out of the garage when I stop and get out, running back inside to leave him a note in case this is all a misunderstanding and he comes home to find me gone.
Then I head to the next street over to my parents.
I could have just walked, but it’s still dark outside and I want to get there as fast as possible.
When I get to their house and don’t see Marco’s car, a large lump forms in my throat making it hard to swallow properly.
This is not good. I walk up to the front door and it’s locked, so I grab my keys, and with shaky hands—after missing the lock twice—unlock my parents’ front door, rushing to unarm the alarm.
I am immediately greeted by my dog, Elsa.
Her moves are slower, but her tail is wagging, ecstatic to see me.
I bend down and let her lick my face. She’s getting older and I know it’s only a matter of time before she’ll go to doggy heaven. The thought makes me sad.
“Hey there, girl.” I pet her for a minute before heading upstairs to find my baby girl. Before I make it to the stairs, though, I see my dad sitting on the couch with Micaela in his arms. He’s holding her in one arm while feeding her with the other.
“Dad.” The tears prick my eyes, and all I want in this moment is for my father to hold me.
I sit next to him, my head resting on his shoulder, while he feeds my little girl.
When she’s done, he lifts her over his shoulder and burps her.
I put my hands out and he hands her to me.
He hasn’t said a word to me yet, and I appreciate it.
“Hey, sweet girl.” I give her a soft kiss on her cheek, then extending my legs and putting my feet up on the coffee table, I lay her small body vertically on my thighs. She wiggles a little, her arms flaring up, and a small trace of a smile graces us.
“The last few days she’s started to smile a little,” I say.
When my dad doesn’t say anything back, I add, “Thank you for taking care of her.” The last word comes out higher as the tears begin to fall.
My dad puts his arm around me and says, “She reminds me so much of you as a baby. As you know, I didn’t get to see you when you were a baby, so when I finally met you, I was upset at having missed out on so much.
Your mom gave me a book of photos. I spent months staring at them, trying to memorize every moment, every memory I missed. She has your nose.”
Without being able to look at him, I say, “He left.”
My dad’s arm around me tightens and I know he’s trying hard to keep his temper in check. “You’re going to have to give me more than that, sweetie.”
“I don’t know, Dad. We, umm…we…last night.” I look at him to make sure he’s following along and he gives me a slight nod, his jaw clenching. “And this morning, I woke up and he was gone. His phone, his car. Gone. No note, nothing. I tried calling and texting, but his phone is turned off.”
My dad doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he says, “I’m going to kill him.” The words are spoken so soft and cold and without any emotion, they give me goose bumps.
“I thought this time would be different, Dad.” The tears are starting to drop faster. I swipe up a few but eventually stop trying. It’s pointless. “I thought this time he wouldn’t run.”
“Bella?” I look up and see my mom at the bottom of the stairs. “What happened, honey?”
“Marco left,” my dad answers for me.
“Oh no, did you two get into a fight?” She comes over and sits on the love seat across from my dad and me.
“No, but…” I dread saying the next part. “It’s not the first time he’s run.”
“What do you mean? He’s left you and Micaela? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“No, when we kissed for the first time, he left for California. Then when we were together the first time, he left again afterward. The night Micaela was created, he passed out afterward because he had been high. I didn’t know it at the time.
Umm… when I tried to tell him I was pregnant and saw him doing drugs I told Caleb, and when Marco found out, he burst into my apartment and told me I was dead to him. He ran from getting help and from me.”
I take a deep breath, trying to get control of my emotions. “It’s what he does; he runs.” I pick Micaela up and hold her close, inhaling her sweet baby scent.
“I’m going to call Hayley. Maybe something happened.” My mom stands and goes in search of her phone. A few minutes later she comes back, shaking her head. “Neither of them have heard from him. They said if they do, they’ll let us know.”
Seeing that Micaela has fallen asleep, I place her in the rolling bassinet, giving her a soft kiss to her temple. “Could you guys watch her a little longer? I’m going to go for a run.”
“Why don’t you come to the gym with me after breakfast?” my dad suggests. I told him yesterday I have been cleared to train again.
“Okay.”
After breakfast—one that I’m sure tasted delicious but I could barely taste, let alone enjoy—I breastfeed Micaela and pump what’s left, bottling it up for later in case I’m not back from the gym in time for her to eat.
When I insist on taking my car to the gym, my dad follows me to my house so I can get changed.
I think he was hoping to see Marco so he could lay into him for leaving.
I, on the other hand, was hoping to see Marco so I know he’s okay and could explain why he left.
I change into a pair of yoga pants, a sports bra, and a loose tank top.
I’m determined to work off what’s left of the baby weight I’ve put on and more importantly gain my muscle and strength back.
I worked out my entire pregnancy, but not like I would have had I not been pregnant.
We walk into the gym at seven and the training center is already hopping.
The music is blaring and you can hear the sounds of grunts from the guys.
God, I’ve missed this place. I’ve only been here once since I’ve been back to show the guys Micaela.
Marco didn’t want to come, saying my dad wouldn’t be happy with him going into the gym.
“I’m going to warm up and go for a run.”
“Okay, sweetie. Then maybe we can get some training in.”
“Sounds good, Dad.”
I turn the treadmill on and put my headphones in, clicking on my favorite playlist. Eminem’s ‘Till I collapse fills my ears. It was my dad’s intro when he was a fighter and it’s one of my favorite songs.
Every single time I hear it, I get pumped up.
I set the song to repeat and turn the speed up higher and higher until I’m at a steady running speed.
Then I get lost in the song, in the moment, in the run, and let everything else fade around me.
“Bella!” I hear my name being called, so I remove an earbud from one of my ears and see my dad standing next to me. When I struggle to catch my breath, I click the down button to slow down. The screen reads five-point-two miles.
“Hey, sorry! I didn’t even realize I was running for so long.”