Chapter 5
Rhett
It’s been three days since I brought Abby to Riko and Derek’s. And, finally, I have a solution.
“Abs,” I say when I enter Riko’s. “You ready?”
She’s sitting on the arm of the couch, perched like a cat, munching on an apple. “Yup.”
Beside her, on the floor, is her backpack. It’s the only thing she has to her name at the moment, but she doesn’t seem too peeved about not having more clothes or stuff.
When we step outside, Riko and the neighbor kids wave to us from their intense soccer game. I show Abby next door where there’s no longer a sign in the yard. The night I came here with her, I got really lucky because no one had rented out the unit and I know the landlord.
“What is this?” Abby asks when I hand her a key.
“This is me taking care of shit,” I grumble, unable to meet her intense gaze. “It’s not safe for our baby if you’re traipsing around the creepy parts of town running from cops.”
I step inside behind her after she unlocks the door. The unit is the exact replica of Riko and Derek’s except the floor plan is a mirror image of theirs. It took some scrambling to get it furnished, and a hit to my checking account, but it’s now livable.
Abby is strangely quiet as she takes in the sparsely furnished place. I figure she can decorate it however she wants.
I clear my throat and say, “Yeah, so there are a few dishes and things in the kitchen. Food in the fridge. Bed and dresser upstairs. If you need something, just borrow from Riko until I can grab it.”
She sets her backpack down on the coffee table and then crosses her arms over her chest. A frown mars her face as she studies the space.
“It’s not the Ritz Carlton,” I deadpan, “but it’ll have to do on such short notice.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Her eyes narrow. “Where’s the bathroom?”
“Upstairs like at Riko’s.”
I follow her up the stairs and she slips into the bathroom. When she comes out, she finds me standing in the empty guest room. Or, in our case, the nursery.
“I didn’t know what to get. Maybe we can figure that out together. We still have time.” I gesture to one corner. “Crib. Baby stuff. You know.”
She stiffens and then chews on her bottom lip. There’s an uneasiness about her that I’m unfamiliar with. Abby is typically spitting fire. She’s not usually so subdued.
“What’s wrong?” I demand.
She shrugs and her eyes water. “I don’t know.”
“That’s a fucking lie.”
“I’m not lying.” She scowls at me. “I’m just…overwhelmed.”
“That makes two of us,” I say with a grunt. “But we can be overwhelmed together.”
She nods slowly as if mulling over my words. “I get to have all this, and you’ll help with the baby?”
“I thought that was obvious.”
“But…”
I sigh heavily. “But no one can know, Abby. I’m serious. This is bad for me.”
She winces and I feel like an asshole.
“I just…” I curse under my breath and pace the space in front of her. “I’m with Angela. If she knew about what happened…about the baby…”
“She’d leave you in a heartbeat.” She laughs bitterly. “We must protect sweet Angela.”
“It’s not that simple and you know it.” I shake my head and point to the door. “I’m going to make us something to eat.”
I leave before we can get into an argument. As I start pulling out stuff to make grilled cheese sandwiches, my phone buzzes.
Angela: Where are you?
Me: Riko’s. Why?
Angela: Want to go to lunch?
I wait to respond and get the bread buttered. Once I have it cooking in the pan, I reply back.
Me: I’m busy. I can stop by later.
Angela: You’re busy a lot lately. Everything okay?
Nope. Nothing is okay. I’m making my secret baby momma a grilled cheese sandwich in the place I’m renting for her.
Me: It’s fine. Promise.
Liar.
“That actually smells really good,” Abby says from behind me. “Angela’s blowing up your phone?”
I shove my phone in my pocket, irritated that she knows that without having to see the texts. “Reid is the landlord. I put his card on the kitchen table. If you need him to fix something, call him.”
Abby doesn’t say anything as she peeks into cabinets. “I can’t believe you did all this.”
“I’m not an asshole, Abs.”
She laughs. “You have your moments. But this isn’t one of them.”
While I plate up the sandwiches, she opens the fridge. When I hear the tab of a beer being popped off, I whirl around in shock.
“What? Are these not for me?” Her eyes dance wickedly in the taunting way that got me in epic trouble once before.
“You’re hilarious,” I grumble. “I figured I should have some shit for me too since I’ll be checking in on you a lot.”
She nods and then grabs a bottle of water for herself. Once we’re seated at the kitchen table, I’m suddenly aware of how domestic the whole scene is.
“You’re going to go to my doctor’s appointments with me?” she asks, eyebrows furling together. “You don’t have to.”
“Someone has to pay for them.”
It’s a mean thing to say, but it comes out before I can stop it.
“You can just write the check, asshole,” she snaps. “You don’t have to put on all these special touches like you’re trying to impress me.”
A grilled cheese sandwich impresses her? The girl needs to get out more.
As soon as the thought of her going out with friends or guys plays through my head, I immediately retract it. Party time is over. She’s a mother now. Or so she says.
Would Abby lie about being pregnant?
No. She can be a menace, but that’s not something she would do. There’s no reason for it. In fact, there is a lot of hesitation on her part. As though she doesn’t like the idea of accepting anything from me.
When we finish up and the kitchen is clean, awkwardness settles over us. I clear my throat and then jut my thumb toward the door. “I should go.”
“Can you stay for a bit?” She shudders as if it physically pains her to ask me. “Please? I just…I don’t want to be alone right now. We can watch a movie or something.”
I told Angela I’d come by to see her, but that can wait for a little while.
“Sure,” I grunt.
We settle on the couch. I sit on one end and she lays across it, putting her feet on my lap.
Since I fixed up her blisters the other day, I figure this is a good opportunity to check on them.
She watches me intently as I untie her laces and pull off her shoes.
Her socks that say, “I love cats,” get discarded next.
I notice she’s painted her toenails since the last time.
They’re black and match her fingernails.
“Blisters healed up,” I say as I carefully inspect each foot.
“Guess I can go to work after all.”
“Where?”
“The bar near that diner,” she says with a shrug. “The guy keeps calling. I told him I didn’t have a ride. Today he said he’d come pick me up, but he’s kind of a creep so I don’t know if I feel comfortable with him knowing where I live.” Then she curses. “Ouch.”
I realize I’ve started absently massaging her foot and with vigor. “Sorry.” I gently push her feet out of my lap because this all feels too intimate. “Tell that guy you’re not working there. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
She fishes her phone out of her pocket and her fingers fly over the screen as she texts. For dramatic effect, she reads it aloud as she types. “Sorry, dude. My baby daddy says I can’t work. Thanks anyway.”
“Glad we got that sorted,” I grumble. “Find us something to watch, woman.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she hisses back, but snatches the remote. “Funny or scary?”
“I need to laugh,” I tell her honestly. “I’m a little stressed lately.”
“Same.” She pushes her feet back into my lap. “Make yourself useful.”
I wake with a pain in my neck and my phone buzzing. It’s dark outside. What the fuck? I’m slumped over on the couch on my side, arm slung over the tiny woman beside me.
When I shift, she makes a moaning sound that has my cock coming alive.
“Abby,” I grumble. “We fell asleep.”
“Stop moving,” she complains. “You’re going to make me puke.”
I’m going to puke because there’s no doubt in my mind Angela has been blasting my phone wondering where I’m at. When I pull out my phone, I’m met with several missed calls and texts.
Angela: I thought you were coming over.
Angela: Are you okay?
Angela: Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?
Angela: I’m starting to worry that you’ve been in an accident. Call me back please.
Angela: If you’re alive and still want to be with me, we should consider sharing our location because this is stressful, Rhett.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“I have to call her,” I rasp out to Abby. “Just…don’t say anything.”
I dial Angela and she answers on the first ring.
“Rhett! What’s going on? Where are you?”
I scrub my palm over my face and note that it smells like Abby’s soap or lotion or whatever it is that makes her smell like honey and almonds. “I’m fine. Fell asleep over at Riko’s. Sorry, babe.”
Abby’s lip curls up and then she bolts off the couch. Relief floods through me. At least now Angela won’t overhear her sister.
“I see,” Angela says, voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it. “Glad to see I’m a priority.”
Irritation churns in my gut. “You are. I just crashed. I said I’m sorry.”
She makes me wait for a long beat. “Okay. I forgive you.”
Whatever else she says gets ignored when I hear Abby retching upstairs. “I’ll come by tomorrow. Promise. I have to go now, though. Dad, uh, needs me.”
She buys the lie and then I end the call. Seconds later, I’m taking the stairs two at a time. I find Abby kneeling in front of the toilet and the room smells of stomach acid.
“You okay?” I ask, panic swelling up inside me. “It’s not morning. Why are you sick?”
She weakly raises an arm to flip me off. “I think I get more morning sickness at night than I do in the morning. Go away.”
I don’t listen and set to finding a washcloth in the cabinet. Once I have it wet with cold water and wrung out, I place it on the back of her neck just under her hair. Her skin is extra pale and another shot of worry zaps through me.
“What can I do?” I ask as I squat beside her. “Tell me how to help.”
“Riko has Sprite,” she mutters. “It helps when I feel gross.”
I make a note to have deliver her a case tomorrow. For now, I’ll go steal everything in Riko’s fridge.
“I’ll be right back.”
I’m there and back within three minutes. When I return, she’s no longer throwing up and is curled up on her bed. I take a cold Sprite bottle over to her and then disappear to put away the rest.
“Your color is returning,” I say when I make it back upstairs. “I’ll order more Sprite.” I walk over to the dresser where I’ve loaded clothes I bought in her approximate size and pull out some sleepwear. “Do you want me to run you a bath?”
Abby frowns as she watches me set the sleepwear on the end of the bed. “Why are you being so nice?”
“I don’t know,” I admit with a sigh. “I just want you to be okay.”
“Why?”
Since I don’t have the answer to that question, I leave the room to run a bath for her. Then, I slip out without even saying goodbye.
Today was weird. This whole thing with Abby is way out of my element. Now that she has a safe place to stay with food and Sprite, I can go back to regular life.
Will my life ever be regular again?
Or is it forever split in two?
That’s a question for another day.