21. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Elsie
May 31 — 22 Weeks, Papaya
M onday, Marshall left for work again, and the past five days have been brutal.
The two weeks before, though? Absolute heaven.
Something changed between us during our vacation at The Playground. Maybe it was meeting his family, or it could be all the sex. The part that stands out the most is our night at the club and me riding Marshall’s cock until I passed out, literally.
I woke up the next morning surrounded by his warmth and had never felt so peaceful. So good .
He makes me feel good.
Marshall, despite my best attempts, has become a place of comfort for me.
For the past two weeks before he left, I’ve lived in a state of genuine contentment and happiness. Even Oliver has made comments, much to my chagrin.
All good things come to an end, though, and Marshall left once more.
Since then, my anxiety has been sky-high, right alongside my blood pressure.
Evidently, the solution to my woes, though, is brunch, according to my friends who’ve dragged me out of the office on a Friday morning.
The audacity of taking a pregnant woman to a bar that serves brunch with bottomless mimosas should, quite frankly, be a crime.
Nonetheless, Selene, Naomi, Zuri, and Ivy somehow convinced me to leave the safety of my home office and ditch my responsibilities in exchange for a few hours with girlfriends, breakfast food, and water .
The bar we frequent for brunch is nice enough, with excellent food and drinks.
I’m sipping on my water that was dropped off at our table when our usual waiter comes over to greet us.
“Good morning, ladies. Welcome back. How are we this afternoon?” They ask.
The look around the table is less than cheery.
“I think we need food and drinks.” Selene chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.
“Of course.” The waiter says, shifting on their feet. “The usuals for the table?”
Everyone else nods their heads in confirmation.
“Um… Can I do breakfast tacos instead?” I request .
“And a bottle of hot sauce on the side.” Zuri chuckles at me. “What? Like we all haven’t noticed, your cravings lean toward a particular spice level during this pregnancy.”
“Of course.” The waiter replies with a glance down at my now heavily protruding stomach.
“I get that you’re white, but like, babe, you down spicy food like it’s vanilla ice cream these days,” Zuri says with a broad smile. “I think it has something to do with a certain someone who’s been cooking for you for the past few months.”
I shake my head and reach to unfold my silverware from its cloth napkin.
Selene eyes me suspiciously but lets me avoid commenting by changing the subject.
“Alright. Y’all bitches catch me up.” She says, clapping her hands. “Zuri, I wanna hear about the new line. Elsie, I know how work is. I want baby updates. Nay gets a pass today, but I expect participation at a minimum. Got it?”
“Yes, captain,” Nay says with a mock salute, her face not moving from its delicately held-together neutral expression.
I’ve heard from Selene that the woman has been going through trouble in paradise with the couple she’s dating, and it’s been brutal on her.
“Zuri. Kick us off. Work update, please, and thank you.” Selene commands with a smile.
With a sigh, Zuri starts telling us about the security threats her company has been receiving and how she’s now working with the security firm owned by Gunnar and Emir. Emir is also on my Board of Directors and a mentor. Gunnar and Emir are working on increasing security at the building and upping safety protocols for their internal systems as well .
“I met his husband, Derek, the other day when I was leaving their offices,” Zuri mentions with what I think is a blush under her deep umber skin.
“Oh?” I ask, curious as to what would make our Zuri smile like that.
“It was a classic rom-com run-in. Spilled coffee and everything.” She explains with a chuckle. “He was sweet about it, though.”
“Based on that blush blooming in your cheeks, it was far more than just a run-in.” Selene jokes, but Zuri’s expression only seems to confirm Selene’s suspicions.
“He’s cute,” Zuri admits. “They’re a cute couple.”
“Cute?” Selene questions. “Cute doesn’t cut it, babe. They’re hot as hell.”
“Fine. They’re hot.” Zuri acquiesces.
“Who is this?” Naomi asks. She is the newest addition to our friend group since she moved to the city after quitting her doctorate program in Dallas.
“Emir and Derek Bonner. Emir is the other founder of the security company Gunnar works for.” Selene explains, turning to engage Naomi in the conversation more. “Derek is...”
“Oh my god. He’s the bisexual linebacker, right?” Naomi gasps. “He’s an icon.”
“Yes. That he is.” Selene smiles at her friend, likely just pleased to see her friend excited over something once again.
“That’s so cool,” Naomi says with a little more light in her eyes.
“You should see Derek shirtless, though. I’ve seen him working out with Emir in their corporate gym. Phew.” Selene says, fanning her face. “I don’t understand why they had him in all those clothes for the magazine article he was in. ”
Zuri laughs alongside Selene, and they have both me and Naomi grinning.
“The two of them together though?” Selene continues. “Oh, would that be a marriage bed I’d like to be a part of. Don’t tell Gunnar.”
“Selene!” Zuri scoffs with a deepening blush.
“What? They’re hot.” Selene shrugs.
“Yeah. But they’re not even in the lifestyle. They’re Gunnar’s business partners. They’re not kinky.” Zuri pushes back.
“Oh, Zuri. Everyone’s a little bit kinky.” Selene says offhandedly. “They’ve never batted an eye at any of the shit that Gunnar tells them. I doubt they’re as vanilla as you think.”
“Then why haven’t they come to the club? I’m sure Gunnar has invited them.” I question. “The Playground is run by a queer polycule. If anyone’s going to create a space where two gay men feel comfortable, it should be the Morgans, right?”
“Bisexual and queer.” Zuri corrects.
“What?” I ask, turning to her.
“Bi and queer. Emir is queer, and Derek is bisexual. They’re not gay.” She explains further. “Well… they are, but they aren’t.”
“Okay, fine. We’re all a little bit fruity.” I chuckle. “My own bisexual ass included in that.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Selene says with a smile.
“Okay. They’re hot.” Zuri admits. “Nothing’s going to happen though.”
“But you’re interested,” Selene says with a raised eyebrow.
“That doesn’t mean they’re interested in me.” Zuri protests.
“That doesn’t mean they’re not interested in you either, Zuri.” I point out. “Polyamory is becoming more and more popular. You have no idea what their relationship dynamic is. ”
“And what about you and Marshall?” Selene says, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation in a direction that fulfills her curiosity. “What’s y’all’s relationship dynamic like these days?”
I look away from her piercing stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, you are an absolute fibber. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” Selene insists. “Something’s changed between y’all. Spill.”
When I look up at the girls, each of them has an entirely too eager and focused expression on their faces. They look like they need a good tea-spilling session almost just as much as I have this gnawing feeling that I need to word-vomit all my thoughts and feelings to them.
“Fine.” I sigh halfheartedly. “Marshall and I are... figuring things out.”
I spend the next hour filling in the trio on everything that’s gone down between Marshall and me. All of the moments of joy and tension and everything in between. They ask questions as I go and interject freely with their thoughts and opinions.
By the time I’ve sufficiently caught them up, I’m breathless from talking so much, and after drinking so much water to keep my mouth from going dry while I spilled, I desperately need to pee with how the baby is pressing down on my bladder.
“You’re squirming like you need to escape.” Selene chuckles.
“I just need to use the ladies’ room,” I say, already pushing myself up from the table. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you. Girls go in pairs. Buddy system.” Naomi jokes, her demeanor much more cheerful now than when she first sat down at the table an hour ago .
“You know we’re fully going to scheme shit while you’re gone, right?” Zuri asks with a smile as we both leave the table.
“I expect nothing less,” I say, returning her grin.
Naomi and I make our way through the bar to the restroom, and she kindly waits for me when it takes me longer to finish up in the bathroom than her.
Walking back to our table, we pass the bar, and something catches my eye on one of the TVs placed above the shelves of alcohol, making me stop in my tracks.
brEAKING NEWS: Texas Supreme Court rejects challenge to state’s abortion law over medical exceptions
But it’s the man on the screen that truly has my attention.
When the banner scrolls to its next caption and confirms my fear, my heart drops out of my chest.
NOW: NewsNow LIVE with Texas Attorney General Charles Snow on the court ruling.
My father .
I knew I’d never be able to avoid him completely.
But still... that fucking man. His presence is everywhere.
Waddling up to the bar with Naomi close behind, I get the attention of the bartender.
“Can you turn up the volume on that TV?” I ask them, and they give me a nod.
It’s busy despite it being a weekday, but when the TV is loud enough to hear the sound, it’s like all the noise falls away, and all I can hear is my father’s voice .
“Joining us now is the man behind this monumental decision, Texas Attorney General Charles Snow.” The news anchor says, turning to address the other man on screen. “Attorney General Snow, thank you for joining us.”
“Thank you for having me.” My father says with a smile that would look genuine and charming to anyone but me.
I should walk away. I don’t need to listen to his lies. He’s not here. I’m not trapped. I can leave.
But something keeps me rooted to the spot.
“Elsie?” I feel Naomi addressed me more than I hear her. “You, okay?”
I want to reassure her that I’m good, but I can’t bring myself to speak. Breathing is hard enough as it is, and the world feels like it caves in as I watch my father casually talk on screen with the news anchor about the most recent ruling on the state abortion ban.
“This is a case that hits close to home, isn’t it Attorney General?” The anchor asks.
“Yes. Very much so.” My father says, his face dropping into a mask of false sorrow. “My wife, God rest her soul, passed shortly after giving birth to our daughter.”
The anchor gives him a sympathetic look that sends rage through me.
I know how calculating my father is and how every word and expression is carefully measured to get the desired response from his audience. I can see straight through him, but everyone else falls for his performance every time.
“There were medical complications toward the end of her pregnancy. The doctor let us know there was a high likelihood that the complications would impact her during labor and delivery, and there was a high risk for loss of life, either hers or our daughter’s. The medical team we worked with at that time strongly encouraged terminating the pregnancy. But...” He has fake tears in his eyes, and his voice is choked. “My wife told me and the doctors that if anything happened, the only priority would be to save our daughter. She wanted our baby girl to live.”
“What do you say to those people who argue that a woman should be able to make that choice for herself? Like your wife did?” The anchor asks, thinking they’re going to get my father to admit he’s pro-choice after that experience.
But no.
The asshole stays true to his controlling ways.
“I would say the same thing my wife said to me before she passed away. That bringing life into this world is the most important thing a woman can ever hope to do.” Father says, seemingly gathering his composure again and returning from whatever sad distant memory he conjures anytime he needs to emote.
“So, you maintain your goals align with the anti-abortion movement.” The anchor prompts.
“While the sacrifice is significant, our future depends on our children, on the next generation.” My father says. “My daughter is the most important person in my life. I love her more than anything. My wife’s sacrifice only solidifies that belief for me.”
“Fuck you,” I say, my voice growing louder with each phrase. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! You fucking asshole!”
“Elsie!” Naomi says in shock before turning to where our friends sit a few tables away.
I’m drawing attention now, with my heaving sobs and tears streaking down my face.
Logically, I know there are so many false narratives that he’s spinning right now, but the hurt is just the same .
My hands go to my belly, cupping where my baby grows protectively.
“Selene…” Naomi says frantically, causing Selene to shoot up from her chair and come over.
One glance from her up to the screen to the tragedy I’m witnessing is all she needs to understand the situation.
“Zuri,” Selene says to the woman who’s joined us at the bar. “Can you cover the bill? We’re gonna take Elsie home.”
“Yeah, of course,” Zuri says as Selene wraps an arm around my shoulder to lead me out of the building.
“I’ll grab our bags and meet you at the car,” Naomi says, rushing back to the table.
My whole body is shaking as Selene walks me through the bar, the whole way feeling like my own personal funeral march.
Naomi has already re-joined us by the time we make it to my car, and she automatically hops in the driver’s seat.
“I’m fine. I can drive.” I protest.
“No.” She says calmly. “You’re not fine. You shouldn’t be driving, and Gunnar would kill us if we let Selene drive.”
“One little wreck, and suddenly, you’re not trusted to drive by anyone,” Selene grumbles, drawing a watery smile out of me. “Now, let’s get you home and into comfy clothes.”
Shame flows through me, knowing my friends have seen me at my absolute worst.
“Don’t do that,” Naomi says, intuitively sensing how I’m feeling. “Wipe that look off your face. There’s nothing to be ashamed of here. You’re allowed to experience your emotions and process them any way you see fit. We will sit with you through them. Then, you get to decide what to do next. Okay? ”
I chuckle through my tears. “You’re gonna be a great therapist, Naomi.”
“And you’re going to be an incredible mother, Elsie,” Selene says reassuringly.
I attempt to smile at her. Thankful for my friends. For the fact that they know me well enough to know my fears and assuage them, even if just a little.
The whole drive home, though, there’s an unidentifiable tightness in my chest.
A longing.
It’s not until I’m dressed in pajamas and laying in my king-sized bed, cuddled by my closest friends, that I realize why.
It’s him.
Marshall.
He’s the one I want here right now.
I want his comfort and reassurance.
I need him to tell me everything is going to be okay.
But he’s not here.
And even as I’m surrounded by people I logically know love me, I still feel alone.
Because, ultimately, that’s what we all are.
On our own.
I need to get used to that.
Again.