“Why do you want me to come back?” I repeated the question.
“Be careful,” he threatened. I don’t know if it was because I was past the point of being exhausted or I was just happy to be rid of him, but I let out a laugh. “This isn’t funny, Lexi.”
“It is, actually,” I replied. “It’s funny that it took me this long, don’t you think?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “I should have left you the first time I found out you cheated on me.”
“Is this what this is all about,” he huffed out, “because you found out I spent the night with Tatum?” I wish it would have hurt hearing that, but deep down I knew he never stopped being unfaithful. “I ended things with her this morning. I want to focus on us.”
“You want to focus on us?” I said, hoping he could hear the venom in my voice. “You’re a little too late for that, don’t you think?”
“It’s not too late. We can do the couples counseling you wanted to do. Then we can finally try for a baby. It’s about time, don’t you think? It’s been ten years.”
“I’m not going to couples counseling with you.” The bitter taste hung in my mouth. “And I am definitely never having a child with you.” I sighed deeply. “I’ll have my lawyer contact you in the next couple of days.”
“Don’t do this, Lexi,” he said, his voice back to being tight. “I would hate for you to do something and then regret it. Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”
“I do,” I agreed with him, “way too long. Goodbye, Trent.” I hung up the phone and blocked his number.
A lone tear escapes from the side of my eye and rolls onto the pillow. The confusion about leaving him always hits me at night when the quietness comes. He’s made me feel so reliant on him and his thoughts that I second-guess myself. It’s at these times I have to think about what my therapist has said from the beginning. You are rebuilding your life starting at step one. Step one is me not second-guessing myself because there are no wrong ways to live my life. Her words repeat in my head as I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
The sun hits me smack in the face when I turn over on my other side, and I groan before holding my hand up to stop it from blinding me. I turn over again and snuggle back into the covers for a full second before I throw them off me and get out of bed. The bedside table clock shows it’s almost ten in the morning. I stretch my arms over my head before making my way over to the bathroom, starting the shower before brushing my teeth. I take a shower and then brush out my hair before walking to my closet and grabbing a pair of sage-green linen pants with an elastic waist and a white sleeveless button-down shirt that has a scoop neckline, something Trent would never approve of. I tuck the front of the shirt in before I walk over and make the bed and open my door.
I look over at the nursery and see the door is open, and so are the shades, before walking down the steps to the kitchen. I walk in, finding Ariella sitting on one of the stools at the island with the highchair beside her.
“Good morning,” I say cheerfully, walking in and starting my coffee before going over to the highchair.
Jagger has his hands up and is moving them excitedly in a circle. “Good morning, sweet boy.” I bend to kiss his blondish-brown hair. “How did we sleep?” I look over at Ariella, who picks up her cup of coffee and brings it to her mouth.
“After you put him down, he just woke up,” she tells me and I smile. “I call that a good stretch, don’t you?”
“He wore himself out.” I walk back to the coffee machine and grab my cup while I walk over to the fridge to grab the milk. Not almond milk for me, straight-up cow’s milk. “Do you want me to make you something for breakfast?” I ask her as I pour the milk into the cup.
“You have to stop acting like you are my personal chef,” she hisses. “You don’t have to always cook for me.”
I snort as I grab my cup of coffee and take a sip. “How about I make some sausage and eggs on English muffins?”
“I want to say no, but I have literally no energy to get up and cook.”
“Can you at least let me do this?” I ask, walking over to the fridge and opening it, grabbing the white plastic egg container from the shelf before opening the freezer and taking out the frozen sausage patties. “I already feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.”
“What?” Jaxon says, coming into the kitchen dressed in a T-shirt with the LA Warriors team logo in the middle of it and basketball shorts. His hair is wet from the shower and pushed back with his hands. “Why would you even think that?” He walks over to Ariella, leaning down and kissing her lips. “Morning, baby,” he murmurs softly before he turns to Jagger, “and you, little pain in the—” He unsnaps him from the highchair and picks him up, Jagger slapping his chest. “Neck.” He kisses his neck. “I’m going to need you to go back to sleeping through the night, please.” He puts his cheek on the top of his son’s head before turning his face back to me. “Why do you feel like you are overstaying your welcome?” he asks as I turn to the stove, placing a pan on top of it, and then adding water and two of the sausage patties.
“It’s just that you already have a little baby to get used to, and then all of a sudden a roommate.” I shrug. “It’s just, it’s a lot.”
“We love having you here,” Ariella declares, “and Jagger especially loves having an extra set of arms to hold him.” I laugh at her as Jaxon hoists him in the air.
“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,” Ariella warns. “Remember yesterday when he threw up in your mouth?”
“Don’t remind me. I have to get going,” he says. “I have off-ice practice with Kirby in twenty.”
The minute he says his name, I turn toward the stove where he can’t see my face. My eyes close as my heart speeds up to the point where it’s hard to breathe. The sound of my heart beating echoes in my ears, along with Jaxon saying goodbye in the distance. I swallow past the lump in my throat before looking over my shoulder. “Bye,” I say softly, listening to him walk out of the house.
It’s been three months since I’ve seen him or spoken to him. The only thing I have of him, besides the memories of those two months, is the white card I keep folded in my wallet—a reminder of how Trent constantly dulled my light and why I should never go back.
I keep my mind busy by making us breakfast. Toasting the English muffins before placing the scrambled eggs on the top of half of it, followed with a slice of cheddar, and then a golden fried sausage patty, before topping it with the other half of the muffin.
“Here you go.” I hand her the plate as she grabs a fussing Jagger and places him on her breast. “You both get to eat,” I make a joke as I pull out the stool and sit down.
“What do you have planned for today?” she asks me, taking a bite of the hot sandwich and then huffing out the heat.
