Ava Reynolds
I was officially out of Saint and Zahra’s house.
Thankfully, I had the finances to get what little I had accumulated in Saint and Zahra’s spare bedroom and hire movers quickly.
I had only been in my new place a few days, but I already felt more at peace.
The first night I slept there, I kept waking up halfway expecting to hear Zahra laughing down the hall or Saint’s heavy footsteps outside the bedroom door, but all I heard was the sounds outside of my window and my own breathing.
That kind of silence was freeing. But it was lonely too.
I missed being able to go upstairs and sit on Zahra’s bed whenever I felt like it.
I missed hearing somebody else moving around the house and knowing I wasn’t alone.
But I was still proud of myself. My hair business was doing exactly what I had prayed it would do.
The money was great. More and more content creators were posting about my brand.
A few stores in the city were carrying it as well.
Orders kept coming in. Because of that, I could afford to be in a luxury condo that was fully furnished.
That independence made me feel stronger. Bu it also made me feel the loneliness of being fully responsible for myself in a way I hadn’t before.
Still, settling into my own place was helping.
Every box I unpacked and every little thing I put where I wanted it made me feel more in control.
For the first time in a while, I started having small, private moments with my pregnancy that weren’t tied to shame, panic, or Reek’s anger.
Some mornings, I stood in the mirror after my shower and actually looked at my stomach instead of trying to hide it.
Some nights, I sat on the couch with my hand resting there and let myself think of the baby as something beautiful instead of just stressful.
That day, I was putting the nursery together. The room was still half done, with boxes in the corner, a drawer still in its box, and a half-assembled crib, but I often sat in there anyway. It made everything feel more real in a way that didn’t scare me as much as it used to.
I needed a break from assembling the crib, so I sat in the rocking chair. I was nearly six months along now, and I was starting to feel the aches and exhaustion.
While sitting there, I decided to Facetime Ploy, the owner of my favorite restaurant in Thailand. The second she answered and saw my face, she screamed my name so loud I had to laugh.
“Ava! You call me finally! You haven’t called in so long!”
“I know,” I said, smiling into the phone. “I’m sorry. Life been life-ing.”
“Let me see baby.”
“You're so nosy.”
“Yes,” she said without shame. “Show me.”
Still laughing, I pushed the rocking chair back a little, lifted my shirt enough to show my belly, and held the camera there. “See? It’s gotten so big.”
Ploy gasped so loud it made me grin wider. “Ohhh, baby big now! So beautiful.”
“I felt it moving the other day,” I gushed.
Ploy gasped. “Oh, it move now?! So exciting!”
Then her whole face softened, and before I could say anything else, she started singing a native song to my belly through the phone.
Her voice came through sweet and soothing.
My eyes started stinging before I could stop it.
For a few seconds, with her singing to my baby from the other side of the world, it felt like Thailand was right there in that nursery with me.
Suddenly, there was a knock on my front door, and I frowned. Nobody had told me they were coming by, and packages for this building got left downstairs, not brought up to my unit.
“Ploy, let me call you back. Someone is at my door.”
“Okay. Bye! Bye, little baby!”
I giggled. “Bye, Ploy.”
Hanging up, I felt warm in a way I hadn’t all day. It reminded me that even though I was back in Chicago, that part of my life still belonged to me. Thailand hadn’t just been an escape; it had changed me.
I pushed myself up from the rocking chair and went to the door.
The second I looked through the peephole and saw Reek standing on the other side, all of the peace of mind I’d had for the last week vanished.
It had been so peaceful for me to be at Saint and Zahra’s without worrying if Reek would pop up. He had gone out of town, and I, honestly, wished he would stay there.
Between the security he had apparently been keeping on me since Thailand and the fact that my family had no respect for my business when it came to him, there was no point wondering how he knew where I lived. Of course, he knew.
We hadn’t spoken since the doctor’s appointment, and he hadn’t seen me since because every time he came to Saint and Zahra’s, I stayed in my room on purpose.
I blew a heavy breath and tore the door open. I looked at him and let all my annoyance show. “Why are you at my house?”
He stepped further in, looking around my place like he was taking inventory.
The harmony I previously felt in my home was gone, and now I felt like I was standing in a war zone.
He looked too damn good for me to literally hate his presence.
A fitted cap rode low over his eyes, shadowing that hard expression of his just enough to make him look even more like trouble.
His hoodie fit his broad frame right, and his jeans hugged him just enough to show off his thick legs.
The Timbs only added to it, making him look sexy in that rough, street way that always got under my skin.
Everything about him looked too sexy and so unfair.
I hated that my body still did that weak, traitorous shit around him when my mind was already telling me to be disgusted and shut the door in his face.
I turned away from him in frustration and walked back into the apartment without inviting him in. I heard him shut the door and follow me down the hall toward the nursery.
The second he stepped into the room, his eyes went straight to the parts spread across the floor.
I had the box open, screws in little piles, one side panel already put together, and the mattress frame leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I looked at him and crossed my arms. “Obviously, I’m putting the crib together.”
“By yourself?”
“Yes.”
His jaw tightened. “Why would you do this alone?”
That question irritated me instantly. “Because it needs to get done.”
I had enough money to pay somebody to put the furniture together, but I was on this kick of teaching myself independence, so I wanted to do it myself.
He stepped farther into the nursery, looking from me to the crib pieces like I had lost my mind. “You don’t need to be building furniture while you’re pregnant.”
I let out a wry laugh. “I’m pregnant, Reek, not handicapped.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” I shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, this is real interesting coming from the man who doesn’t even want me to be pregnant at all.
” I could see his anger rising, but I was already heated, so I kept going.
“You don’t get to show up and start barking orders.
I’m sick of your inconsistency. I’m sick of your mixed signals.
I’m sick of you caring one minute and acting like this baby ruined your life the next.
You don’t get to keep swinging back and forth whenever it’s convenient for you.
I’m the one carrying this baby. I’m the one having to live with every word you say.
So, if I need a crib built, I’m going to build the fucking crib.
You don’t get to talk down to me, pop up whenever you feel like it, and then police what I do in my own home. ”
His eyes got harder. “I’m not policing you. I’m saying stop doing shit you don’t need to be doing while you’re pregnant.”
“And who exactly is supposed to do it? My baby's father, who made it clear he doesn’t want anything to do with this pregnancy?”
He angrily bit his bottom lip. “You always gotta do that? Throw little shots like my initial feelings wasn’t valid. What the fuck did you expect me to say when you came back from Thailand, after not saying a word to me for four fucking months and told me you were pregnant?!”
“You know what, Reek? I expected you to respond exactly how you did. But what I did not expect was for you to torture me with your inconsistency. You clearly care about me, because you had security on me in Thailand, and you’re standing in my condo, despite me never even telling you the address.
But instead of dealing with your trauma like a grown man, you keep acting like a moody child and taking it out on me. ”
He came toward me fast enough to make my heart skip a beat. “What the fuck you know about my trauma?”
“Enough to know you use it as an excuse,” I hissed.
His nostrils flared. “You talk real big for somebody whose running from her own shit.”
“And you talk real reckless for somebody who keeps wanting the woman you swear trapped you.”
The silence after that was suffocating and hot.
His eyes dropped to my mouth, and mine dropped to his before I could stop them. I hated that the same man making this pregnancy harder than it had to be, was still the one man my body knew too well.
He stepped closer, close enough that I smelled him, that I felt that old tug trying to drag me right back into something I had promised myself was over.
His hand lifted like he was about to touch me, and I already knew where this was going. He was angry. I was angry. But we were both still attracted to each other in ways that made no sense anymore.
He leaned in.
And I shoved him back. “No.”
His eyes flashed with shock and offense.
I took a step back and folded my arms over myself. “You are not about to keep fucking me and being a father whenever you feel like it. That’s not happening.”
He just stared at me, and I stared right back, hating how much being in his eyesight made me feel so whole.
Even angry, stubborn, and making this whole pregnancy harder than it had to be, he still had a hold on me I resented.
Part of me still longed for him and needed him in ways I wished I didn’t, still wished, against all good sense that we could do this right and be the kind of man and woman who knew how to love each other without turning everything into a fight.
But we weren’t that and knowing that while still wanting him made me feel weak and furious at the same time.
My heart was beating hard, but for once I didn’t fold.
“I need boundaries. Real ones. And that starts now. You don’t get to come in here and throw me off because you feel like it.
You don’t get to fuck me whenever you want to.
You don’t get to have access to me while you’re still acting like our baby is something being done to you. ”
He continued glaring at me, as if I frustrated him to no end, as if he hated my existence.
“This is my home,” I pressed. “You don’t get to do with it whatever the fuck you want.
So, you don’t need to come by, unless you’re here for your child, and it’s not here yet.
I don’t need you to be around. Families assemble cribs together.
You’ve made it perfectly clear that that’s not us, so I don’t need your help. ”
Reek didn’t say anything for a second. He just looked at me, and I could tell he wasn’t used to me drawing a line with him like that.
But I was done allowing chemistry to make me a fool.