“Sleep well. Message me in the morning?”
“You got it. Night,” I choke out, managing to hold my tears in as I wave her off and turn toward my building.
But as I let myself in and the putrid scent of the building's hallway hits my nose, my stomach turns, and my tears spill over.
I try to hold my breath as I race up the stairs, but it’s hopeless, and I’m forced to breathe through my mouth.
I can’t even describe the smell. Urine mixed with body odor, rotting food, and a whole host of other awful things I don’t want to think about.
All I know is that this isn’t a place I ever want to bring a baby up in.
I press my hand against my stomach as I make a promise to my child that I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to keep. Or at least, I won’t if I don’t take Everett up on this offer and get what I’m owed.
As much as I think I might have options, deep down, I know I don’t. I might want to protect my heart, but at the end of the day,my baby’s wellbeing and future are way more important than a little heartbreak.
The moment I step foot in my apartment, I kick my shoes off and pad toward my bedroom.
“Oh my god,” I breathe as I release my zipper and then undo my bra.
I abandon it all on the floor before taking a quick shower and pulling on a tank and a pair of sleep shorts, which are also getting a little snug.
I grab a bottle of water before flopping onto my bed with my cell in my hand.
I unlock it and instantly cringe when it opens to my conversation with Rett.
I want to say I’m surprised that Sienna sent him a photo of me, but really, I’m not.
Bea: I’m sorry about Sienna. She can’t be controlled.
Baby Daddy: Good. I’d have hated to miss out on how hot you look tonight.
My cheeks burn.
Bea: I didn’t feel hot. I felt claustrophobic. And I had to drink virgin cocktails all night
Baby Daddy: Nothing good about a virgin
I splutter, almost choking on my own saliva.
“Jesus,” I mutter once I’ve recovered.
Baby Daddy: Speaking of things that aren’t virgin…apparently I was looking pretty fly tonight myself.
I frown, wondering where this is going, but only a couple of seconds later, a photo pops up.
“Oh Christ,” I grunt.
Shamelessly, I tap on the image, making it fill the entire screen before I scan every bit of it.
It’s a selfie of Everett in a fancy, fitted black suit. Only his tie has been loosened, his collar undone, revealing the ink that disappears beneath.
Bea: I assume that by apparently, you mean you got hit on all night?
Baby Daddy: There may have been one or two women who showed interest…
Bea: And one or two women you took out the back and fucked into next week?
I regret the message the second I send it. But it’s too late to take it back. He’s already read it.
