6. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Elsie
I t took me a half hour to gather myself up from Marshall’s couch before I realized that he wasn’t coming back. I could hear him in the other room, but I couldn’t bring myself to go and face him. Something kept me rooted to the spot.
When I finally managed to move, I found Selene on the back porch of their home. She tried to talk to me… tried to comfort me… but nothing got through. It was like she was talking through water. Everything sounded garbled and messy through the pain that was radiating through my body.
Finally, I peeled myself away from her, concern still painting her face, and got in my car to drive home.
All I could focus on was getting home, locking myself into my safe space, and never coming out.
I don’t remember the drive or taking the elevator up to my apartment and unlocking the door.
But now, ensconced in my bedroom, I undress and head into the bathroom for yet another comfort shower. Standing outside the shower, I lock down my thoughts while staring expressionless at the water falling from my shower head.
I can’t fall apart.
Not yet.
The steam building in the room helps me stay grounded enough to recognize when the shower is ready. Stepping in, I let the water cascade over my body, and my thoughts finally run free.
I don’t know what I expected when I drove over there and demanded Selene and Gunnar’s key to the pool house to confront Marshall.
Anger, maybe.
Confusion, sure.
Shock, absolutely.
But nothing?
Nothing almost hurts the most.
His expression went completely blank when I told him. There was absolutely no reaction, no emotion.
Then he left.
He left me sitting there, alone.
It took me thirty minutes to leave because I kept expecting him to come back and talk to me, to say something .
Instead, there was just a ruckus coming from his bedroom.
At that moment, I felt like the ice queen everyone accuses me of being. Everything in my body went cold and hard. Everything shut down.
There was no warm feeling of joy to share with him: no smiles or excitement.
He left .
He’s not ready for this.
I’m ruining his life.
Only, it feels like mine is just starting, and I don’t know how to handle the conflicting feelings.
Part of me is elated.
I’m going to be a mother!
But another portion of me is devastated at Marshall’s reception of the news.
He’s so much younger than me.
There’s no way he’s ready to be a dad.
This is so much responsibility, and I know him.
He’s a womanizer.
Personizer?
What do you even call a man who sleeps with anyone who’s interested?
Man whore?
If he wants to walk away from me and our baby, fine.
I don’t need him.
I don’t even want him.
I’ll do this on my own.
Reassured by my conviction, I force my pruned hands to turn off the water. I climb out of the shower and wrap myself in a fluffy towel before making myself go through my hair care and skincare routine. But exhaustion sets in, and I can’t bring myself to do anything more than dress in a nightgown before dragging myself into my bedroom to collapse, with wet hair and all, into my bed.
Laying there, sunlight shining through the windows, I start making plans in my head. The mental list of things to do and buy eventually gets long enough to where I start a list in the note app on my phone of everything I need to do.
Despite it being only noon, the task relaxes me enough that soon I’m drifting off to a deep, though restless, sleep.
When I wake up to the sound of banging, my bedroom is dark.
“The hell?” I mumble, dragging myself out of the comfort of my king-size bed.
Reaching under the bed, I pull out the gun safe, which I keep there, and press in the code. I pull out the small piece I keep there and check the empty barrel before clicking the magazine into place.
Maybe it’s excessive, but it’s not just me I’m protecting anymore.
So, I click off the safety and swipe the slide back to load the chamber.
When I open the bedroom door as quietly as I possibly can, I don’t expect all the lights to be on.
Keeping close to the wall with my gun at the ready, like I was taught in my gun safety training, I make my way down the hall but halt when I spot the front door wide open only a few feet away.
No one should be able to get up here without the front desk giving them access. I’ve given them a strict list of people who are allowed free access to the penthouse elevator, and I wasn’t expecting anyone today.
When I reach the end of the hall, I stop and take a deep breath, readying myself for whatever is around the corner.
As I turn the corner, I raise my gun and sweep the room quickly, looking for the intruder .
Only, instead of a burglar, I find Marshall surrounded by bags and boxes, looking delicious in a tight-fitting t-shirt, worn blue jeans, and his signature work boots.
His dark hair is messy around his face, highlighting the tight line of his jaw, covered in stubble. His brown eyes are alight with mirth at this whole bizarre situation.
“The hell?” I gasp, looking up at him.
“Oh, good!” Marshall says, turning in my direction. “You’re up!”
Quickly, I lower my gun and release the bullet from its chamber before flicking the safety back on.
“The actual fuck, Marshall?” I shout. “I could have killed you!”
“Well, thank you for not doing that.” He says, still smiling. “Now that you’re here. Where should I put my stuff?”
“Your what?” I ask, bewildered. “What are you even doing here, Marshall?”
He steps around one of the boxes and takes a few strides to me, gently taking the gun out of my hand and setting it down on a nearby side table.
“Okay, that’s better.” He says with a smirk. “I knew you were a Texas girl, but I didn’t realize you owned a gun.”
“Guns. With an S. I hunt too during the seasons.” I correct before shaking my head. “Stop changing the subject. Why are you here ?”
He looks around at the bags and boxes that are around the room as though they answer my question, but I refuse to believe my eyes.
“I’m moving in.” He says simply.
“The hell you are.” I snarl. “I did not invite you into my home, Marshall. Get the fuck out. ”
He takes a step toward me, but I’ve already snatched the gun off the side table and started my march back to my bedroom before he can reach me.
“Elsie.” He calls after me. “Come on. At least talk to me about this?”
I turn back to him. “Fuck no. Now get your shit out of my house.”
“I tried calling!” He shouts down the hall.
“Don’t care!” I shout back. “Get out!”
Shutting myself into my bedroom, I slump against the wall.
My heart is hammering in my chest. I am still in disbelief that Marshall not only managed to get into my apartment but also had the audacity to think he could just move in .
I lock the bedroom door, just in case, and crawl back into bed.
“Fucking, Marshall Law.”
March 10 — 10 Weeks 1 Day, Lime
T he next morning, I wake to a delicious smell wafting through the apartment.
Following my nose, I make my way to the kitchen to, once again, find Marshall Fucking Law standing there, making breakfast at six in the morning.
“MARSHALL!” I shout. “What the hell!”
He spins around, looking deliciously rumpled in his tight-fitting t-shirt, sweatpants, and bedhead.
“Morning!” He says cheerfully, ignoring my rage and returning to what he was doing at the stove .
“You’re still here,” I say in disbelief.
“Well, yeah. I found the guest room and slept there. Hope you don’t mind. I made myself at home.” He says, shrugging.
“I mind. I very much mind.” I snap, my frustration with this man increasing with every passing second.
“Well, I tried calling you yesterday, but you didn’t answer.” He continues.
“So, you broke into my apartment?” I squeak, pacing toward him.
“Just returning the favor, princess.” He jokes, making my scowl deepen. “The front desk person was really sweet and understanding. They helped me get everything up here last night.”
“How did you get in? They don’t keep keys to the individual units.” I ask, mentally composing the email to building management about letting uninvited guests into the building.
“Selene gave me her key.” He says simply.
Of course, she did.
I can’t help but stand there, frozen in place, as the whole scenario plays out in my mind. How he turned on his charm and pled his case to Selene and, true romantic that she is, she caved and gave in to his bizarre plan.
In fairness, she did the same thing for me, but it feels invasive, nonetheless.
At least she’s technically his landlord.
“Marshall. Be reasonable. You can’t just move in with me.” I say, shaking my head.
“I can, though.” He says simply. “I don’t have a lease to break. Moving is super easy for me. You have the space. What’s the problem?”
“The problem is…” I sigh, frustrated. “It’s…”
“Exactly.” He says with a massive grin on his face.
I close my eyes, searching for patience. “But why? Why the fuck would you move in with me?”
This time, there’s quiet before he responds, as though he’s genuinely thinking through his answer.
When I finally bring myself to face him once again, he’s standing there with a spatula in hand, looking down at me with the most deadpan expression I’ve ever witnessed him make.
“Because you’re having my baby, and I’m not letting one day pass without me being there to support my family.” He says, his voice completely serious.
“Your family ?” I screech in disbelief.
“Yes. My family.” He says, taking a few steps toward me and placing his hands on my shoulders. “Ahora eres mi familia, Elsie.” You are my family now, Elsie.
It takes a minute for my brain to translate his words with my rusty college-level Spanish skills, but when they settle in, my jaw drops.
“You’ve lost your mind. You’re not thinking clearly, Marshall.”
“No. I’ve never been more clear-headed.” He says, returning to the stove to check on whatever he’s making.
I march up to him and poke him in the side. “You are not moving in with me.”
His 6’5” frame towers over me, but I’m not afraid of him. If anything, I’m growing more impatient with each passing second.
“Yes. I am. You’re not doing this on your own.” He says softly with a glance down to my stomach.
My hands fly to cover my belly, protecting what I know is growing there .
“Fine. You want to be involved. Great!” I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. “But you don’t need to live with me.”
“You keep saying that, princess. But I’m already here. You’re not getting rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.” He says sweetly. “Now, sit. Breakfast is almost ready.”
This man has absolutely lost his mind.
There’s no way this is happening. There’s no way this is real. It must be a dream, right?
I close my eyes and pinch myself, hoping I’ll wake up from whatever the fuck this is, but when I open my eyes again, Marshall is still standing there.
“Sit,” he repeats, gesturing to the dining room table, which has already been set with silverware, napkins, and glasses of juice and water.
“Right,” I grumble, finally admitting defeat. “It smells delicious.”
“Huevos rancheros.” He smiles, turning from the stove back to the two plates he has laid out before plopping the fried eggs on top of the fried tortillas and refried beans. “I was going to deliver breakfast in bed, but you beat me to it.”
“Where’d you get the stuff for all of this?” I ask.
“Ah. Yeah. You don’t exactly keep a whole lot of fresh ingredients on hand,” He chuckles. “But a buddy of mine’s wife owns a local grocery and opened up for me early.”
“Marshall. You don’t even cook for yourself. What the hell are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m cooking for my family,” he says simply, bringing the plate to me as I sit at the dining room table.
“You keep using that word, ” I stress the last syllable .
“What? Family?” He asks as he sits down next to me.
“Yes! That! Stop saying that.” I scold.
“Elsie. You’re the one who showed up to my place yesterday and told me you’re pregnant. What did you expect was going to happen?” He says calmly. “You’re having my kid. We’re family now. That’s how this works.”
Panic rises in my chest every time he says that word. To me, it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means.
Family is an illusion—a facade with no substance.
It’s not something I want.
I just wanted a baby.
“It’s really not, though,” I say, picking up one of the tortillas laden with goodness and taking a bite. “Mhmm. Okay. That’s good.”
“I’m glad.” He beams beside me before digging into his own food and talking through a mouthful. “You’ll have to let me know what foods you’re craving, and I’ll make sure to keep those on hand.”
“You’ve been here all of, what, eight hours?” I laugh, covering my mouth when a few crumbs fall out. “And now you’re suddenly ‘Susie Homemaker’?”
“Why not? I’m home for the next three weeks before I have to go back to the rig. Might as well make the most of my time.” He says, leaning back and rubbing his hard stomach in satisfaction. “Good, right?”
“Yes. It’s really good.” I admit. “Normally, I can’t eat in the mornings, but, yeah, this is good.”
“Perfect. I’ll call mi mamá and ask her for more recipes. I think this kid’s gonna fit in just fine with the rest of the family. We’ll have to introduce you to them soon. Maybe tonight’s family dinner? I’ll ask if I can bring a guest.”
I nearly choke on my next bite at his words. “What?”
“I’ll call mamá and see who’s coming to dinner tonight. She should be up by now.” He says, reaching for his phone. “We’ll have to leave here by 4:30, though, to make it there before six and not be late.”
“Marshall. Stop.” I plead, placing my hand over his phone screen. “I am not meeting anyone today. Especially not your family.”
“You’ll have to meet them eventually. Might as well be now.” He shrugs, picking up his plate and going to the sink. “Mamá is going to be so excited to hear about the baby.”
“No!” I command, stopping him in his tracks. “We’re not telling anyone about this. Not until at least the 12 week mark. And not until I’m ready.”
He gives me a curious look before continuing slowly. “Okay… Then what do you want to do?”
“Right now, I just want to have a peaceful Sunday. Go to the farmers market, maybe. Get my nails done. Catch up on emails.” I sigh.
“Okay. I’ll put clothes on, and we can go.”
“Go? Go where?” I ask, wide-eyed.
“Farmers market. Nails. Then home.” He lists off, counting on his fingers as he goes.
“You’re coming with me?” I ask, bewildered.
“Princess, for the next three weeks, I’m going to be stuck to you like a barnacle. You’ll be sick of me by the time I leave for my next rotation.” He smiles, turning to head to the guest bedroom.
“I already am…” I grumble.