41. Chelsea
CHELSEA
“Oh my God, is that a hickey on your neck?” Jenna’s voice is a mixture of loud humor and rampant disgust. I blush and self-consciously attempt to conceal the aforementioned offense with my hand, but she cackles anyway, clapping her hands in drunken delight, “It is a hickey. What are we in high school?”
“Shut up,” I mumble even though I’m smiling too. I’m not drunk like she is, but we’ve both been giggling the entire night as we eat popcorn and I catch her up on my crazy life.
The last few weeks have been a whirlwind, and she is only privy to some of it. It feels like we haven’t talked to each other in forever, mostly because I’ve been dealing with the pregnancy and work, and she's been working and travelling a lot too.
Now that we're finally together, I tell her all about the doctor's visits, the dates we've been on, and how James found out about us and nearly had an aneurysm.
She doesn't stop laughing throughout the entire retelling.
"I would kill to see your brother's face on Monday when he sees that giant hickey," she chuckles.
"He's not going to see it, because of this wonderful invention called makeup."
“Right. So which of your boyfriends gave that to you, huh?’ she says the word with as much juvenile emphasis as she can muster. “I bet it’s Jake. He seems like the type to do some shit like that. Although Sam gives me pretty possessive vibes also.”
“Well, you’re wrong on both counts,” I say. “It was Adam, actually.” At least I assume it was him, because he’s the one who spent most of the time sucking on my neck two nights ago.
“Really?” she says. “Well, I guess people can surprise you after all. I would have pegged him as being too mature to give hickeys. He also didn’t seem like the lovey-dovey type.”
“They’re all the lovey-dovey type,” I tell her. Though I understand how she can make that mistake.
Adam always seems pretty level-headed and uptight at first glance, and he doesn’t seem like the type who would give little kisses and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.
Oh, but he is the type.
With every day we spend together, he opens up even more and shows his real self. And his real self is so openly affectionate and nurturing; I know he’ll be a great dad.
Speaking of which...
We finally had the conversation I'd been dreading for some time.
I always wanted to know how Adam truly felt about us having a child.
Though he's never complained, I can't forget how he reacted to the news about this pregnancy.
It certainly wasn't a happy one. While that might have just been shock, a part of me is worried that he's just playing along because he doesn't have a choice, and that he feels trapped.
That's the last thing I want.
I would rather raise the baby alone than force anyone to be its father.
I was trying to figure out how to bring up my concerns to Adam, but it turned out that I didn’t need to.
He came to me two nights ago and picked me up, placing me in his lap and murmuring in my hair, “You know I love you, right?”
At first, I stiffened. He was the second of the men to tell me he loved me. Well, third, if you count Sam murmuring it against my pussy while he ate me out.
I love them too. I know I love them, but every time I think of saying it, the words get frozen in my mouth.
“It’s okay, you don't have to say it back," he says gently. "That was just a prelude to something else I wanted to say.”
Even though he told me I didn’t have to say it, I still struggle with the guilt of not saying it. I swallow it and ask, “Which is?”
“I want you to know that I love you, and I love this baby that you’re carrying." His thumb traces circles on my cheek, his gaze strong but soft. "No matter whose DNA it has, I will consider them my son or daughter. They'll be mine, just like you are.”
My throat got tight, emotion rising thickly and swiftly.
I nearly started sobbing on the spot, a combination of pregnancy hormones and the sheer depth of the words sweeping me away.
“You don’t have to, you know?" I tell him. "I know you didn’t want kids at the beginning of this.”
“I didn’t think I was ready for a kid,” he said.
“Especially a kid with someone I didn't know all that well.
That was never the plan, and I don't necessarily respond well when things don't go according to plan.
" He gives me a wry smile. "But I want to let you know that that baby has never felt like a burden to me.
Once I worked through my fear of inadequacy and of being unprepared, I realized what I truly want.
Every single day I dream about a little girl or boy with your eyes, or your hair.
One that I can pamper, and love...just like I do to their mommy. "
His smile was dreamy, making me even more emotional as he dropped the first of many kisses on my neck. “I can’t lie, darling. The thought makes me all warm inside."
“Yeah, but the fantasy and reality are completely different.”
“Yes. And the reality is that I love you. I love our child. And I’m going to do my damnedest to make sure that I’m the type of father they deserve.”
I couldn’t say anything else about that. Just the honesty shining from him, the sheer passion. I couldn't do anything else but kiss him.
“Ugh, I can tell I’ve lost you, and you’re thinking about them right now," Jenna's voice drags me back to reality. "You are such a goner for them, aren't you. And on girls' night? For shame, Chelsea.”
I shake my head. “No, sorry. I’m back. No thinking about men on girls' night.”
Jenna shakes her head, but then her face softens. “No, but really, dude. I’m so happy for you. And I’m happy that you’ve found your people. I see how much they care about you and how much you care about them.”
“You’ve barely talked to them.” They have met here and there, for example, when Sam dropped me off earlier today, they had a short conversation. But they've never fully sat down and talked to each other, although I have told my men so many things about her and told her so many things about them.
“I don’t have to," Jenna said. "Everything I’ve seen about just the way they look at you and the way they treat you tells me how much they love you. You're glowing, babe."
"It's the hormones," I say.
"It's more than just the hormones. Trust me. They have the reverse Eric effect on you. Speaking, and which, I heard through the grapevine that he and the girl are having...problems."
"Of course." I snort. “I don’t know what I was thinking dating that guy; I really don’t.”
“Well, I’m just glad you got out of it,” she says with a wink. "We'll chuck it up to temporary insanity."
I laugh, and she pours herself another glass of wine.
We try to focus on the movie for the next few minutes, but eventually, Jenna starts dozing off.
I let the film continue to play out, wanting to get to the end before I leave.
However, we're interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Coming," I call out lightly, careful not to wake Jenna as I rise and head to the door.
My biggest mistake is that I don't look through the peephole before I open it. I assume it's my landlord whom I'm expecting to hear from because I just informed him I won't be renewing my lease at the end of the year.
But instead, it's Eric.
He looks terrible. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair a tangled mess, and eye bags sit heavy in his face. Eric is the type of guy who's very sensitive about his appearance, so to see him like this is a shock.
“Hey," he whispers. "Can we talk?"
"Jenna's asleep."
"Oh." He looks so forlorn that some stray pity pricks at my chest.
"We can talk outside."
Hope lights in his face, and he nods. I step out, closing the door behind me.
I don't manage to get a word out before he blurts out: "I’m sorry, Chelsea. So fucking sorry. I just want to say that first and foremost, I never should have taken you for granted and cheated on you."
I raise an eyebrow. "Let me guess, things are not going too well with her."
"No. I broke up with her."
"You did?" Not that I’m surprised. I figured that they wouldn’t last. She's way too smart to put up with his bullshit for as long as I did. But I didn't think it would be him breaking up, though.
"Yeah," he says. "She’s crazy."
"And you’re so sane."
He sighs. "I know I fucked up. But baby, I want–"
"Okay, let's go back. First off, I'm not your baby, and second, we're not getting back together. Ever. So let me just help you take that off the table right now."
His eyes spark. "Why? Because of your boyfriends?"
I raise an eyebrow. "No, not just because of my boyfriends. Also, because you're an asshole and an abusive piece of shit."
"I know. And I know that I wronged you, badly, but baby...I'm in therapy now."
I laugh. I can't help it. He says it like it's a trump card that should erase everything else we've been through.
"I'm happy for you. Now leave."
"Wait, Chels–"
"I'm serious," I say. "I'm not mad or pissed at you anymore, believe it or not. I just want you to leave."
He bites his lip and says, "Shit."
I don't know what else to say, so I just shrug and say, "Yeah."
"Is there anything I can do to–"
"No," I tell him.
To my surprise, he swallows and nods, not putting up much of a fight. Not that I think he's genuinely in love with me or anything, but usually he would fight out of sheer stubbornness.
Something in him seems genuinely broken.
He starts walking away. When he's halfway down the stairs, he glances back at me again. "I'm sorry, Chelsea."
"I know," I tell him.
I watch him get into his car and drive away, close my eyes.
Well, that was heavy. Totally killed my happy vibe.
The cool evening breeze blows across my face, and I decide to take a walk to clear my head. A part of me is kinda worried about him, despite everything. He really did not look good.
I decide to take the trail by the palm trees, expecting this walk to last maybe five minutes at most.
That is until I hear running footsteps, and turn around to find a gun pointed straight at me.