Chapter 10 Abby
Abby
I’m trying to put distance between us, but it’s as if Rhett can sense it and clings on harder. And, when he does that, it’s difficult for me to push him away.
“Why is Daddy so confusing, Buck?” I ask my belly as I rub it.
A door closes behind me, and I whirl around to see a young woman around my age entering the laundry room. She has an infant strapped to her chest in some sort of sling. I make a mental note to tell Rhett we need one.
“Hi,” I say, wriggling my fingers at her. “Don’t mind me. Just the weirdo in the laundry room talking to herself.”
The woman smiles at me and gestures at my stomach. “I used to talk to mine when she was in the womb. It’s normal.”
“I’m Abby. Just moved in a few months ago.”
She nods. “I know. News travels fast in this small community.”
Unease trickles through me. Rhett doesn’t want news traveling at all. Since I don’t know this woman, it’s safe to say there’s no way it would get back to do any damage to Rhett, but I still feel weird about it.
“I’m Savvy,” she says, offering me a slender hand to shake. “I’ve seen Rhett going into your place a lot.”
The way she so casually says his name as if she knows him intimately makes my hackles raise. It’s then I recall a past conversation I had with Riko where he told me all about how Rhett used to be obsessed with Savvy.
Rather than give him away by divulging anything, I flash Savvy an icy smile, not returning the handshake. The buzzer on my dryer goes off and I’m awarded an opportunity to escape.
“Nice to meet you, Savvy. See you around.”
Her baby starts to fuss so I snatch all my clothes from the dryer and hurry out of the laundry room before she can say anything else.
Once back inside my townhouse, I let loose a sigh of relief.
My back aches as I carry the basket upstairs.
When I deposit it on the bed, I feel the small movements in my belly and grin.
“You’re never awake when Daddy is here,” I tease as I stroke my stomach.
It’s surreal having the life growing inside of you move and actually be able to feel it. Sometimes I can even see my stomach move, but never when Rhett is around.
My phone rings in my pocket. I jerk it out, expecting it to be Rhett since he’s the only one who ever calls me, and freeze when I see the name across the screen.
Dad.
I’m not sure how long it rings before I muster up the courage to answer it.
“Abigail,” Dad grunts after I say hello. “Where on God’s green earth have you been?”
I haven’t stepped foot into my childhood home since I slept with Angela’s boyfriend. Dad is just now wondering where I’m at? Too little too late.
“Living my life, Dad.”
He exhales heavily. “Always dramatic with you.”
Tears flood my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I’m tired of being portrayed as the dramatic one in our family. Despite having done nothing wrong—until Rhett—I wore the scarlet letter of shame anyway. It gets old. I’m grateful Buck will have two parents who will love him unconditionally.
“What do you want?” I say, voice ragged and tired.
Dad makes me wait an agonizingly long several beats. It’s his thing he does if he thinks you’re being rude. I’m not a child anymore, though. I won’t squirm uncomfortably until he speaks again. I’m onto his controlling, superior games.
“I have it on good authority that your sister’s boyfriend will be proposing soon.”
His words shake me to my core for some reason.
This isn’t news to me but hearing it from someone besides Rhett is jarring.
When it’s just me and him, it feels like we have a relationship.
It feels domestic and happy and real. I know he’s with Angela, but when he’s with me, I can sort of pretend it’s not real.
“Oh yeah?” I croak out. “Cool.”
“I know you don’t give two shits,” Dad grumbles, “but it’s in your best interest to start showing concern.”
A burst of hot anger surges through me. “Why’s that?”
He ignores my clipped tone. “You want your money, don’t you?”
The heat from moments before is doused as ice freezes my bones.
“Your mother thinks it’ll look good for you to stand beside your sister on her wedding day as the maid-of-honor.
Naturally, Angela has her qualms about this, but your mother insists.
She should know weddings aren’t just about the couple.
It’s about the family and what they want.
” He laughs. “We’re paying for it, so what we say goes anyway. ”
I don’t join in on his humor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t be silly.”
“Angela hates me,” I say through gritted teeth. Plus, there’s no way I could watch the man I’m falling for marry my witchy sister.
“It’s just a phase,” Dad states, bulldozing past my concerns. “She’ll be happy one day once the two of you smooth things over.”
“She called me a whore.” My voice cracks. “After the Beau situation—”
“Just words, Abigail. Learn not to be so fragile. My God.”
I breathe deeply so I don’t say something hateful to my father. “The answer is no. I’m not doing it.”
“You will do it,” he grits out. “If you want the two million dollars, you’ll do as I say, child.”
My mind reels at his words. A shudder ripples through me. I realize now my rape was worth two million dollars. That didn’t even make a dent in Beau’s checking account. But, to Dad, it seemed sufficient to keep his silence.
“That’s blood money,” I hiss. “I don’t want it.”
“For fuck’s sake, Abigail. Don’t be such a toddler.
I know you attempted to use my card at that diner months ago which meant you ran out of money and were hungry.
You’ve thrown your tantrum long enough. Come back home.
We’ll get you into rehab, give you your car back, you’ll be two million dollars richer. Where shall I pick you up?”
“Don’t call me again,” I rasp out before ending the call.
It only takes Dad thirty-seven minutes to have my phone disconnected.
Asshole.
Boom!
I sit up in bed, terror clawing at my chest. Slowly, I ease out of bed and stumble for the door. Heavy footsteps thud up the steps, and for a second, I don’t recognize them. Too heavy. Too angry. Too fast.
Turning on my heel, I hurry past my bed to the closet where I’ve stashed my mace. I’m not sure I can get to it in time, but I have to try. I scramble in the dark, knocking things off shelves until I grasp the cool metal. Someone grabs me from behind, though, and I drop the mace at my feet.
A bloodcurdling scream escapes me until a deep familiar voice rumbles through my veins.
“Calm down, honey, it’s me.”
I twist around in his arms and fling myself into them. He grabs my ass, picking me up. My legs hook around his waist and I squeeze his neck.
“I didn’t expect this reaction,” he grumbles. “I came here expecting a fight.”
A laugh bursts out of me. One of the cats meows his displeasure.
“A fight? In the middle of the night? I’m crazy but not that crazy.”
One of his hands slides up my back and into my hair. His fingers tangle in the strands. He tugs just hard enough to tilt my head back. When his lips ghost over my neck, I let out a shameful moan.
“You don’t make any sense.” He kisses my neck and then sighs. “Why were you avoiding me then?”
“Avoiding you? I’ve been here the whole time.”
“I texted you like thirty times, Abs. Called you almost as many. What the fuck? I thought you or the baby were hurt.”
I relax in his arms, toying with his hair in the dark, wishing I could see his handsome face. “Dad called. When I said I wouldn’t be the maid-of-honor at your wedding, he took me off his phone plan, apparently.”
“Asshole,” Rhett murmurs. “I’ll get you on my plan ASAP.”
“Don’t you get tired of taking care of me?”
“Never.”
He carries me over to the bed and gently places me on the mattress.
I can hear him shuffling as he removes his clothes.
Then, he slides into bed with me. Too much of our bare skin touches to be normal, but I don’t care.
I love every sensation—how he smells, how he feels, how he sounds, how he tastes.
“How’s my son?” he asks, palming my stomach. “Is he moving?”
“Nope. He’s asleep like a normal person should be in the middle of the night.”
Rhett’s palm caresses my stomach and then he moves it back up to cup my breast like it’s the most natural thing to do. I love having him this way, but it also upsets me.
Why can’t we have this all the time?
What’s so special about Angela that he chooses her over and over again over me?
Hot tears prickle my eyes, and I try my best not to cry. Never in my life have I cried so much as I have being pregnant with Buck. It’s ridiculous.
“Don’t cry, honey.” Rhett runs his palm over every inch of my skin he can touch. “Why are you crying?”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“I know you better than anyone and I can tell when you’re crying.”
I hate that he knows every detail about me. The foods I love and hate. How I like my pillows situated. Which pants are my coziest. The shows I want to binge next.
“Why are you still planning on marrying her?” I ask in a tiny whisper. “I don’t understand.”
He’s silent for a long time, but not in an intimidating way like Dad. It’s as if he’s wondering the same thing. His palm has settled on my stomach again, stroking it reverently.
“You don’t even love her,” I accuse tearfully.
You love me.
The thought comes out of nowhere but the second it enters my brain, I know it to be true. What’s frustrating is he can’t seem to see it. He’s still obsessed with his stupid perfect life.
Angela fits the mold.
I broke it.
“Honey,” he murmurs, like he might say more and confess what we both know to be true.
But the words never come.
“You should go. Your girlfriend wouldn’t like this.”
“Fuck off, Abby.”
I bark out a laugh. “Truth hurts.”
His mouth finds my ear and he whispers, “I’m trying to make sense of all this. Please don’t shut me out.”
“What’s there to figure out?”
You love me. I love you. We have a baby together.
Since he doesn’t answer my question, I do my best to fall back asleep which is difficult with him glued to me like he’s afraid I’ll vanish in his sleep. When I’m finally dozing off, I feel his lips press against mine.
“I don’t know anything except how happy I am when I’m here with you.”
The words are whispered and not meant for me to hear since he thinks I’m asleep, but I hear them anyway. Unfortunately, they’re not enough. They’re not a confession of love or that he’s going to leave my sister to be with me and Buck.
As his breaths even out, realization settles in the pit of my belly.
I’m going to have to be the one to put up the walls.
Rhett will go on to marry Angela and I’m only making things harder on him.
If I put an end to the sleepovers, the cuddling, the almost kisses, then maybe my heart can stop bleeding so damn much.
It’s going to hurt either way. Might as well choose the least painful.