“Have you told him about the miscarriage?”
The words are a bucket of ice cold water. Which would be perfect in this crazy heat, but still shocks me. I blink a few times and shake my head. Dr. Sunita makes another note and I sigh heavily. I’ve been trying to bury it for a while. She won’t let me.
“This is important, Tamara. It doesn’t change your relationship or the situation you’re in, but he should know.”
“Why?”
“So he understands where you’re coming from and why this pregnancy and this baby are important to you.”
“He…” I trail off. He does deserve to know, but talking about it makes me feel worse for some reason and I don’t like that. Sighing heavily, I nod at Dr. Sunita’s inquisitive look. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”
Thirty. Feral
Patrick
Much to my chagrin, the IHA didn’t cancel the tournament. Or at least they hadn’t come to a decision by the time I boarded my flight. Every attempt at suggesting a pause until we knew more about the young player in a coma was ignored. Shocking. I gave up when it was clear the more we pushed, the longer it would take. And my only goal was to get home to Tamara.
After the video call last night, I lay awake for hours and stared at photos of her. Of course I’d stalked her on Instagram and saved the ones I love, including one of her kissing the camera. I’d also taken pictures of her over the last few weeks when she was doing mundane things like drinking her morning tea or washing dishes while listening to an audiobook. I have pictures of her from the cake tasting and the days that followed. I wanted to get a screenshot of her last night, but watching her was so distracting, I forgot. I know how she looks when she comes and that’s enough.
While waiting for my flight to leave, I wandered the Delhi airport and stumbled across a baby store. The staff member was most unhelpful, but I did manage to buy two grand worth of things I don’t even know if our kid needs. I realise we still haven’t talked about anything related to our baby. We need to build a nursery, buy toys, clothes and whatever else Tamara might need. Then again, maybe she’s already thought about it and we haven’t had the time to talk about it yet. I set a reminder on my phone so over the next few days, we can figure all of it out together.
Kuriakose was at the airport to pick me up despite my insistence that I could get a cab. We spent the whole hour talking while he drove me to Tamara’s place.
Even though I knew she was at work, a part of me hoped she’d be waiting for me. Instead I find a box of homemade brownies and a note. I check the calendar and note she also had a therapy session today and we’ve got a doctor’s appointment in a few days.
Tamara claims to be a terrible cook and it’s not too far from the truth, but she’s a lot better than I expected. She’s a really good baker and if she has a recipe to follow, my girl can make almost anything. I’ve also learned she’s a perfectionist and for someone like that, the preciseness of baking is ideal. We’ve been experimenting and she’s mastered all kinds of brownies.
When I open the box, the delicious scent of chocolate wraps around me. I bite into one and read her neatly written note:
I so badly wanted to be there to welcome you home, but adulting. :( I have a day full of meetings, but finish at 5. I know you haven’t been sleeping well on this trip, so I need you to nap. My bed’s available and bonus, it smells like me. Then wear your most comfortable clothes and come to this address at 6pm.
Wear your dancing shoes, Daddy.
xo Lotus
I’m nothing if not a good and obedient partner, so I do what I’m told. I don’t bother to unpack, but I crawl into her bed. Tossing and turning for a bit, I pull open all the drawers in her nightstand and find the one filled with her toys. Smirking, I finally fall asleep with memories of the night before and wake up two hours later when my alarm blares.
Following more of her instructions, I shower and slip into baggy trousers and a white T-shirt with a hand-painted lotus on the left side of my chest. The location she left takes me past the city limits, which allows me to drive faster down the highway. When the map alerts me that I’ve arrived, I frown at the sketchy-looking building. The only reason I know it’s not some place she can kill me are the cars parked and people milling about. I leave the helmets hooked to the side of the bike, lock the saddle bag and head inside.
There’s a queue at the entrance and guys wearing masks marking wrists and tapping on iPads. I give them my name, let them stamp me with what looks like a neon tube light and follow the people through the front door. While it looks like a rundown warehouse on the outside, the inside is a whole other thing. The walls are covered in murals and the high ceilings have weird looking chandeliers. It also boasts multiple stories and spacious balconies looking into the main area. There’s no music; the only sounds are feet scuffing across the cement floor and muffled conversation, so I’m even more confused about where I am until I step through tall black doors.
The bright lights are turned off, but fluorescent colours dance across the walls. There’s a raised platform at one end with two DJs and everyone’s wearing headphones while dancing. They’re moving at their own beat and I frown, dancing is not my thing. With my hands shoved into my pockets, I move further into the room and pause.
And there she is.
I’m so attuned to Tamara that even if she was clothed from head to toe, I’d recognise her. Seeing her curly hair and tattoos—the two on the back of her arms—is a dead giveaway. Tilting my head, I drink in the rest of her. Her top is a black thing with thin straps tucked in a pinkish-orange skirt that flutters around her ankles, and her feet are adorned in worn Converse sneakers. Then I notice the two douchebags drooling over her as they talk.
“Mine,” I growl and walk over, flexing my hand so I don’t punch either of them.
They see me before she does and I don’t give them a chance to react before my hand wraps around her neck. She squeaks as I turn her to me and her expression transforms into joy. Daddy’s home, baby. I grin and dip my head, covering her mouth with mine. Tamara moans and I shudder at the sound, her fingers clutch at the front of my shirt. She tugs me in and we’re pressed against each other. Our tongues swipe and tangle, then I’m sucking it before she sinks her teeth into my bottom lip. My fingers twist in her hair and tug, drawing a gasp out of her. I grunt and lick into her mouth, making her melt against me. We pull away from the kiss slowly, pecks and nips as our lips part. The assholes stare, but I don’t give a shit. I have my girl and nothing else matters.
“Hey, Lotus.”
She beams and tip-toes to bump her nose to mine. “Hi, Daddy.”
The urge to claim her again shoots through me, but I resist. I untangle my fingers from her curls slowly as she turns to the men still standing there. Their eyes are wide and mouths are flapping open and closed. Either they recognise me or they’re scandalised by the way I thoroughly fucked Tamara’s mouth.
“Oh, boys. This is Patrick, my baby daddy. Trick, this is…oh no, I forgot your names. I’m so sorry.”
