22
Penny
“Stop sulking, woman,” Beckett says as he carries me through the front door of his house. “I know you can walk. You’re a big, bad, independent woman. I get it. But it hurts you, so why fight me on it? Just let me take care of your salty ass.”
I scoff. “No one says salty anymore.”
“I do.”
“Because you’re old?”
He nods, unphased. “Because I’m old.”
I roll my eyes, but the wide grin spread across his smug face assures me he isn’t affected by my attitude in the least. Why would he be? He won. I’m moving in. For now, at least.
My ‘please save me’ phone call to my best friends on the way to my place didn’t help either. While they were both glad that I was okay, and the baby was still happily bouncing around in my uterus, Molly and Evie both out voted me, agreeing with Beckett’s logic; that if I was left to my own devices, I wouldn’t do as I was told, and that until they could sort out the staffing at Coffee Leaf , this was the best option.
Traitors.
The lot of them.
Evie was even waiting at the damn house when we got there to help pack my stuff.
“I think my room is the best option because it’s got the ensuite,” Beckett says as he continues walking through his house toward the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Easier for you to go to the toilet and shower, yeah?”
I would rather die than be in that bed right now.
“No,” I say, much louder than intended. Beckett pauses mid stride and looks down at me in his arms. “I mean, no, that’s okay,” I continue, lowering my voice. “The spare room is fine. I won’t be here long, and I don’t want to throw you out of your own room.”
The look he gives me lets me know he doesn’t believe the excuse, and I can tell he wants to argue, but after searching my face for an uncomfortable amount of time, he lets out an exasperated sigh and nods. “Fine, but I’ll be carrying you to and from the bathroom, and I don’t want to hear a peep from you about it.”
Small price to pay for not being surrounded by the memories we made in his room for an entire week straight, if you ask me.
“Fine.”
He shifts me in his arms, and I feel the vibration of his chuckle through his chest. “Stubborn bloody woman,” he mutters as he manoeuvres us through the doorway of the spare room.
Carefully, he stops at the edge of the freshly made king sized bed, and places me down on the ridiculously soft, chocolate brown doona.
The movement causes more than a little pain, and my sharp intake of breath has Beckett’s eyes widening and his hands hovering over my stomach. “Shit, sorry, Love. You okay?”
I hold my breath until the pain subsides, and then nod, causing him to visibly relax. “I’m fine.”
Silently, he fusses with the pillows behind me, fluffing them up a little and repositioning them to prop me up further, and I take a moment to look around the room, realising that I’ve never actually been in here before. I’ve only ever glanced inside when passing by. There was never any reason to explore further than that.
Not that there’s really much to see. It’s pretty bare, as a spare bedroom normally is, I suppose.
“Alright, hold tight,” he says, standing to his full height once he’s satisfied with his work on the pillows. “I’ll grab the rest of your stuff.”
He waits until I nod again, wordlessly promising that I won’t try to get up without him, and then, after almost tripping over the cream rug lining the floor, he rushes from the room and down the hall.
“There’s no way all my shit’s going to fit in here,” I say to myself, noting the small tallboy sitting opposite the bed and the two single drawer bedside tables, all made from the same, deep, rich wood.
It takes Beckett all of thirty seconds to re-emerge, carrying my silky green robe, two overly stuffed sage green Coffee Leaf Café tote bags, and my extra-large, black corduroy duffle.
His boyish smile rubs me the wrong way, because if he hadn’t done what he did, if we hadn’t fucked everything up to this extent, he’d be moving my stuff in for real, in the other room, and this wouldn’t be so goddamn hard.
Feeling snippy, I nod over at the tallboy as Beckett places my stuff on the floor, and ask, “No TV?”
He straightens, grins from ear to ear, and winks at me. “Ryan’s dropping one off in about half an hour. I put in a click and collect order earlier while Evie was packing your stuff. He’s grabbing it for me, so I don’t have to leave you here alone.”
“I’m only going to be here for a week , Beckett,” I say, reiterating that this is not a permanent arrangement. “Why would you buy a TV?”
He shrugs. “Don’t have one in here, and you can’t watch your shows without one, so...”
Without an adequate comeback for that excellent answer, I simply turn my head and mumble, “Better be a big one.”
He chuckles in response, still unbothered by my attitude, which irritates me even more, and bends to grab one of my bags. “I also ordered you a couple silk pillowcases ‘cos I remember you saying they’re better for your hair, but those won’t be here ‘til tomorrow.”
Fuck him and his nice gestures and understanding smiles.
I feel so out of control.
I don’t want this.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be in pain. I don’t want things to change.
What’s going to happen now? Am I just going to be phased out of my own café because I’m pregnant? I’ve heard of women working until the day they go into labour. Why can’t I do that?
“Just,” I begin, sighing loudly as he starts unpacking the tote bag in his hand. “Don’t. I’ll do it later.”
He pauses with a pair of my pink pyjamas in his hand and rolls his lips together. “Oh-kay . I’ll do it later.”
“I can-”
“Don’t bother arguing with me. I’ll leave you be, but you better not get that pretty ass out of that bed without me standing right here. Understood?”
“Fine,” I say, staring at the blank, cream coloured wall across the room, a lump forming in my throat.
Why do I want to cry right now?
Jesus Christ.
“You need to go to the bathroom or anything?” he asks, placing the bag back down and then wiping his hands on the front of his jeans.
“Nope.”
“You hungry?”
“Nope.”
“Thirsty?”
“Nope.”
“Penny, look at me.”
“No-pe,” I reply, popping the P.
“Love,” he coos. “Don’t be mad. We all just want what’s best for you and the baby. This is that .”
I know he’s right. This is for the best. Clearly my body isn’t my friend right now and Beckett being here to wait on me hand a foot, in theory, sounds perfect.
It doesn’t feel perfect, though.
It feels a whole lot like, ‘ this is what your life could have looked like, if… ’
“I know,” I reply, doing my best to keep my tone even. “It’s fine.”
He sighs, and I watch from the corner of my eye as he rubs the back of his neck, a sign that he’s a getting frustrated. “Alright, well, how about you have a lie down? Maybe a nap will do you some good. You can have some more Panadol in an hour or so.”
Another glorious part of pregnancy?
No good drugs.
“Sure.” I wriggle down the bed a little, and wince in pain.
Beckett clicks his tongue at me and reaches forward to help, but I bat his hand away and I shuffle myself down so that I’m lying on my side with my back to him.
“Stubborn,” he mutters, pulling the neatly folded, large, brown throw blanket from the end of the bed, up and over me.
I glare at him over my shoulder as he fusses with it, ensuring my feet and legs are covered, but he doesn’t even notice, so I give up after a few seconds and close my eyes, deciding maybe a nap will do me some good.
“Your phone’s on the bedside table. You call out if you need anything , okay? Or message me. Whatever you want. I’m just going to go into the lounge room and answer some emails and shit, and I’ll have my ringer on loud.”
“Okay.”
“ Do not get up without me here, Penny. I mean it.”
“Mhmm,” I mumble, eyes still closed.
“Penny,” he repeats, as the bed dips beside me.
“Yes,” I snap, opening my eyes, turning my head and staring right into his as he leans over me. “I won’t get up without your help, okay?”
I’m acting like a child. I know I am, but I can’t help it. I don’t want to be here. I want to be home, in my bed, in my space, without him, because the feeling I get when I’m here, when I remember everything… It sucks.
For a moment, Becketts eyes search mine, as if trying to figure out what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, but soon enough, he nods, clearly satisfied with my response, and leaves me in peace.
Just as he exits the room, and I tuck my arm under the blanket and place a hand on the side of my stomach, baby boy decides to kick. Actually, kick, as in, I felt him boot me in the stomach, with my hand …
“Beckett!”
The thundering sound of his heavy footsteps follows, and within seconds, he’s at my bedside. “What’s wrong?”
I look over my shoulder at him and roll my eyes at his panicked tone before tossing the blanket off and reaching behind me for one of his hands. Grasping his wrist, I pull it to my stomach, and he complies without hesitation, leaning over me.
“What are we doing?” he whispers as I lift my shirt a little and place his hand on my bare skin.
“Shhhh,” I reply, trying to focus. “Why are you whispering?”
“I don’t know,” he replies quietly. “Why are you whispering?”
I glare at him, just as our baby decides to make his presence known. He kicks his daddy’s hand, and Becketts eyes widen in surprise, but remain on mine.
“There! Did you feel that? Tell me you felt that!”
“Holy shit…” he whispers, looking down at my bump. “Was that-”
“You felt it?”
He nods. “Well, shit…” Carefully, he removes his hand, clumsily stumbles around the bed, and then he lays down beside me. After shuffling as far down as his giant frame will allow, he places his hand back on my stomach and leans in close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my sensitive skin as he whispers, “Hey there, little mate. I’m your daddy…”
Oh, fuck me. Why does he have to be like this?
Our son continues to move around for his father for another ten minutes, but after a while, my need for sleep takes over my want to witness them bonding, and I fall asleep to the sound of Becketts hushed voice, and the feel of his warm body beside me.
I wake, God knows how long later, to the sound of Molly’s whispers coming from down the hall and sigh into my pillow. “I’m awake, Judice,” I call out, peering through my heavy eyelids at the open door, waiting for her to appear.
Within seconds, she does, and Beckett is right behind her.
The look of worry on her face has me groaning. “I’m not dying, woman. Jesus.”
“How are you feeling?” she asks, rushing to my bedside as I try to sit up.
“Fine.”
And I am, until I try to move.
Clearly, the pain shooting through my body is displayed, clear as day on my face, because both her and Beckett lurch forward.
“I’ve got you,” Beckett says, pushing past Molly to get to me. Carefully, he slides his hands under my arms and lifts me with next to no effort, into a seated position, and I sigh in relief as the pain vanishes into thin air. “I told you not to-”
“I wasn’t trying to get up!” I snap, annoyed with both him and my traitorous body. “I just wanted to sit.”
Molly’s lips pull into a tight, thin line at my tone, but Beckett just smiles down at me. “I know. But you need a little help right now. And that’s okay .” I turn my head from him, a little embarrassed at how incredibly nice he’s being despite my attitude. “I’ll leave you girls to it,” he whispers, leaning down and placing a kiss on the top of my head. “Call out if you need anything.”
When I once again don’t respond, he turns to Molly, and she gives him a wide, grateful smile. “We will. Thank you, again.”
He winks at her, and then quickly exits the room.
“Room for one more in there?” Molly asks.
Immediately, my body relaxes, and I pat the huge empty space beside me that Beckett was occupying when I fell asleep. “Please.”
As she climbs onto the bed, she lowers her voice and whispers, “You know there’s a bunch of your stuff like… spread around the house, right?”
“Mhmm,” I hum in response, because I don’t know what else to say. My succulents, my cactus, my throw rugs, my candles, along with every other personal touch I added to this place, still being in the exact same position it was in months ago, was the first thing I noticed when Beckett and I entered the house.
But I don’t want to talk about that, because that would mean thinking about it.
“Okie dokie, then,” she says far too cheerily, snuggling up to my side. “As long as you’re aware.”
Somehow, Beckett managed to sneak his brand new, humongous television into the room and onto the tallboy opposite the bed, while I was sleeping without waking me, so for a good forty minutes, Molly and I sit and watch Gilmore Girls in silence, huddled together under the large brown throw blanket Beckett tucked around me, earlier.
“So,” Molly says, as the credits to episode two roll. “You want to talk about it?”
“Talk about what?” I say, keeping my eyes on the TV.
“Talk about the fact that you’re feeling like we betrayed you by siding with Beckett.”
“I don’t feel like you betrayed me,” I say, even though it’s not an entirely true statement. “I’m just… I’m sad , you know?” She looks shocked by my admission, but recovers quickly and nods. “This wasn’t the way I expected anything to go, and being here…”
“Hey,” she says softly, placing her hand on my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I get it. Evie and I were talking about increasing Izzy and Alex’s hours, if they’re up for it. That way one of us can be home with you, and-”
“No, no,” I say, shaking my head. “Izzy is already working full-time hours, basically, and Alex, well, Alex, spends more time flirting with the cougars of Mawson Lakes than working as it is. This is where I need to be right now, and I get that.”
Look at me, being all mature and shit.
“Okay,” she says, “But you know we’re going to have to bring someone else on board, right? Someone that can cover for you…”
“I know,” I say, raising my hand to make her stop.
That is the last thing I feel like talking about right now, and she knows it.
Molly deflates a little, and nods, but within seconds, a lightbulb goes off in her pretty little head and she’s jumping to her feet. “Ohhh! I know what’ll make you feel better.” She grins as rounds the bed, collects my phone from the bedside table, and then returns to her place beside me. “Let’s do some shopping!”
Ah, the real way to my heart.
She turns the screen so that I can see, as she opens the Amazon App on my home screen and types ‘Baby Must Haves’ into the search bar. Immediately, hundreds of products pop up, and we mindlessly scroll through them together as our TV show continues to play in the background.
“Oh, I like that!” I say, pointing to a light blue muslin swaddle covered in realistic green and brown ducks.
“Adorable,” she says, tapping the screen to add yet another item to my now overflowing cart. “Should I add two? You know… one for here, and one for home ?”
The question takes me by surprise.
Holy shit, are we going to have to buy two of everything? One for Beckett and one for me?
Where’s the nursery going to go? I mean, I guess for the first few months of his life, little man will sleep in my room with me, but then, after that…
Evie and I do have a third bedroom, but it’s Emma’s. All her toys are in there. Her bed. Her books…
Ugh. How have I not thought about any of this yet?
“Hey,” Molly says softly. “I shouldn’t have asked. That’s not something we need to think about yet. We’re just picking out things we like, and later, we’ll figure out where it’s all going to go, okay?”
I nod, even though my mind continues to spin out of control. “Beckett and I haven’t really spoken about it…”
“Spoken about what?” His deep voice takes us both by surprise.
We both turn our heads at the same time, to find him standing in the doorway, balancing a white folding bed-tray on one hand, and holding two bottles of pink vitamin water in the other.
My favourite.
“Oh, nothing,” Molly says, quickly climbing to her feet to help him. She takes the tray from his hands, returns to my side and flips the legs out before placing it over my lap.
Laid out in front of me, are four ham and cheese toasted sandwiches, cut into triangles, a large blue, ceramic bowl filled to the brim with fresh green grapes, and a jar of Nutella with two spoons, presented as if it came straight out of a damn Pinterest board, with freshly picked flowers and herbs.
He’s been paying attention to my cravings…
Immediately, tears spring to my eyes, which isn’t unusual when I’m presented with food that looks and smells this good lately, but still.
I do my best to hide my emotional reaction from him, by turning my head as he leans down to place the bottles on my bedside table, but in doing so, I give Molly a perfect view of my glassy eyes, and she pouts silently in response.
“Alright, that should sort you both for a while. You need to go to the bathroom or anything, Love?”
“Nope, I’m good,” I say, still avoiding looking at him.
His responding chuckle has my stomach fluttering, but thankfully, he takes the hint, and leaves, without saying another word.
Molly raises her eyebrows at me and snatches a grape from the bowl in my lap.
“You don’t have to say it,” I whisper, reaching for one of the sandwiches.
“Say what?”
“That I’m being a bitch to him.”
“I wasn’t even thinking-”
“Yes, you were. And I get it. I just don’t know how else to act around him. I’m working on it, though...”
She shrugs and reaches for one of the spoons coming out of the Nutella jar. “Well, maybe you staying here for a while is a blessing in disguise. Maybe it’ll give you guys a chance to figure out how to coexist in peace and lean on each other a little…”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing over at the empty doorway to my right. “Maybe…”
Or maybe I’m just setting myself up to get hurt all over again.