I gulp and am about to snap out another retort, but then decide to keep it to myself. After all, it’s not like saying anything is going to make a difference. Meredith’s caught the dream train, and she’s not getting off until she’s forcibly thrown off.
Meanwhile, my mom giggles again.
“Anyway, I’ve got to go Katie Kat. Tony’s calling me, and ooooh, dinner looks delicious. Talk to you soon, sweetheart.”
Click. That’s how fast my own mother is done with me. She never even heard the sorrow in my voice, much less paused to ask me what’s wrong.
And now, I’m all alone. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes once more, and I hide my head in my pillow, wishing I could disappear. Sobs wrack through my body. This isn’t fair.
“Why?” I groan. “Why is this happening to me? What did I do to deserve this?”
As I lie there, I think back to every moment I spent with Bruce. At the time, everything seemed perfect. The way he looked at me, I was sure – so sure – that he felt the same way I felt. Well, I guess I was wrong because he didn’t feel a damn thing, did he? It was all just a game to him. Use ‘em and lose ‘em, which is his go-to MO.
Frustrated, I throw a pillow at the wall. Instead of bouncing off harmlessly, it crashes into a nearby lamp, knocking it over. The bulb pops and shatters, plunging the room into darkness.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to go back in time.
What the hell did I do?
Even as I run through every last memory I have, I can’t come up with an answer to the turmoil. It’s like something just snapped inside of Bruce, and he turned into a totally different man. Maybe he’s psychotic? Or no, what is it called? Bi-polar? Schizophrenia? Could that be it?
I shake my head with defeat. And to think, I thought I was on the cusp of a successful relationship. What bullshit. Clearly, I was completely off-base and reading the situation wrong.
I should have known better.
Suddenly, my stomach tightens, and I fly out of my bed and into the bathroom. I hold my stomach as I vomit into the toilet. My body shakes as I cling to the porcelain bowl, throwing up everything I had for breakfast. My hair gets covered with it.
I groan and close my eyes, crying even harder. It’s too early to be pregnant, right? I mean, no one knows so soon after going unprotected. Right? Right?
Why is this happening to me?
16
Bruce
It’s been a couple of weeks now, and I haven’t seen or heard hide nor hair of Katie since our little, ahem, squabble. I don’t even know what to call it at this point. I’ve replayed that damned day so many times in my mind that I’ve become numb.
A month.
She would know if she was pregnant by now, right? And she would tell me?
“Maybe I didn’t get her pregnant with my little stunt after all,” I say while standing in front of my mirror and straightening out my tie.
My face looks haggard, and I seem pale despite my dark tan. For the past few weeks, I haven’t allowed myself to think about her. If I had, I surely would have gone insane. I’ve worked myself half to death just so I wouldn’t lie awake at night with her face haunting my thoughts. And when there wasn’t any work to be done, I’d hit the gym, doing anything I could to keep my head clear.
So I guess you could say that I’ve been busy as hell. But still, the stress shows. My shoulders slump a bit, and I don’t have a glow of happiness and vitality.
Who am I kidding? Now that my mind’s on it, I allow myself to wonder. Maybe I haven’t fucked up as badly as I thought I did. Maybe I haven’t spoiled everything. Is that even possible?
Taking the risk, I shoot her a text. My fingers fly like the wind, and I don’t even let myself think about what I’m doing until after it’s sent. The message is cute and a little flirty, even if out of the blue.
So, do you have something to tell me? Am I going to become daddy to a baby?
I look at it, thinking it’s a lighthearted way to break the ice that’s built up between us. It’s not just ice – it’s a fucking glacier, come to think about it.
I’m ready to wait, but them my heart jumps when a ping sounds. Katie’s texted me back almost immediately.
No, you won’t be a father by me.
That’s it. That’s what I was looking for, right? And yet, I want to bawl and cry because the ice is almost palpable. She hasn’t stopped to tease or even sass me. Instead, it’s all business, and she’s moved on.
