26
Christian
I forgot how much I missed her. I forgot the way that she tasted like sweet cherries. I forgot the way that her smile just lit up an entire room. Fuck, I even forgot the way that I absolutely was enamored with the way she yelled at me.
But I also knew that there was so much left unsaid between us. I had so much to tell her, to apologize for, but it felt like I was also racing against a clock.
“Pancakes are ready!” she called to the girls, and they came running down the stairs.
“Christian!” They gave me hugs. I also missed them. I missed this. The feeling of family. It was something that I really worked on this week. I had been running away from people welcoming me with open arms because I was…scared.
I was selfish for taking that break, especially leaving Maeve with no backup, no way to contact me, and just nothing. So whatever groveling I would have to do to make up for it, I was willing to give. I would do anything right now.
“Okay, girls. Hurry and eat so we can get ready for the baby shower.” Maeve was behind the counter wiping batter off her face. After her confession, she pulled away from me completely.
“Wait, where are you going?” I asked, then she started to laugh. It was not the kind of laugh that was like ha-ha funny, more like something that was hurt.
“Like you finally care? I’m supposed to tell you where I’m going?” She was whisper-yelling at me, and I walked toward her so the girls weren’t in earshot of us.
“I want to talk to you,” I begged.
“I don’t.”
She threw the rag on the countertop and told the girls she was going upstairs to change before storming up the steps. I followed her like the lost puppy dog that I admittedly was.
“I swear I didn’t fuck anyone else.” She was mid-staircase before she whipped around painfully fast. Her eyes filled with dread and an anger I had never seen before.
“You think that’s what I care about? That you, a single man, would fuck another woman?” She leaned in still in a hushed tone but seething externally. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a flying fuck about who you bring to your bedroom. I care about how you disrespected me, jumped out on responsibilities you had promised, and ran away when I was opening up to you.”
She had stormed to her room, and I was still trailing her, listening. “Fuck. You.”
I leaned up against her door, half tempted to pound on it or break it down, but I knew she was right. She had the right to be upset with me too.
I could feel the weight of my mistakes bearing down on me. I slumped against her door, a mixture of frustration and self-disgust welling up inside me. I knew I had messed up, and there was no one to blame but myself.
Minutes stretched into an agonizing eternity as I listened to the sound of her rummaging through her dresser. Each passing second was a painful reminder of the growing rift between us, the consequences of my actions unraveling before me.
Finally, the door opened, forcing me to fall backward from surprise. I was now lying on the floor looking up at her, and if she moved anywhere in front of me, I would have a bird’s-eye shot of her pretty little pussy. I shook my head and focused on her as she finally came out in a mauve ribbed midi-dress that hugged every curve. The way the color of her dress matched her pink nipples was going to make me hard. That was, until she literally stepped over me. I hurried to get up on my feet and followed her down the stairs.
“Are you just following me around today?” She didn’t bother to turn her head.
“Yup,” I said, popping the p.
“So annoying.” She threw her hair over her shoulders.
“You look good,” I offered, bumping right into her back when I realized she had stopped moving. I slid my hands around the small of her waist and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “You smell good, too.” I pressed my mouth to her supple skin, drinking in her smell.
For a second, she didn’t pull away. It was like we were in the kitchen again with batter dripping down our faces. It was mere moments of just us.
Then in a flash, she pulled away and grabbed Kelsie and Kinsley’s shoes before walking over toward them.
“You’re going to the shower?” I asked, still on the tail of her heels, following her around. She shot me a look before shooing me away.
“Yes, Christian.” She huffed out. “My mom was supposed to come over to watch them while I set up, but I’m bringing them with me now.”
“I can—” I attempted to interrupt.
“Do. Not. Finish that sentence.”
“Why?”
“Because, Christian, I’m taking them with me.” I nodded, feeling dejected.
I knew this would happen when I came back. The therapist I saw for the past week told me to expect her to be upset, but I didn’t expect her to practically cut me out. I didn’t expect to feel the same rush of emotions I did every time I was around her. I was doing my fucking best at controlling my own feelings about being rejected while also trying what I learned at therapy.
Going to the house in the foothills and through those intense therapy sessions for days made me realize I need to step up my communication game with the people I care about. I need to let them in, share parts of myself, and be vulnerable so they can understand where I'm coming from and the shit I've been through.
Stephen was fucking right about facing what went down that day. Opening up about it, actually saying the words out loud, weirdly made me feel somewhat lighter. It was hard to put into words, but I knew I was ready to confront her and make things right. I just didn't expect it to be this tough.
As she grabbed the girls’ stuff and a couple of boxes, I attempted to help her with them, but she quickly rejected me, lifting them herself. I stood in the doorway and waved as they drove up the block.