Brad scoffs, “I don't think most of the guys are going to want to have them around after last night either, love.”
“They'll still be invited to things, though. Girls like that always are. I mean, I heard how reluctant Torbyn was to get rid of them, how even he assumed that you must have led Keeley on, somehow.”
“I swear to you, I didn't. I haven’t given her the time of day since…” he trails off as his eyes flick away, clearly not wanting to insert the image in my mind again. Too bad it lives thererent-free now. “I don't even understand what she was trying to achieve with that manipulative shit!”
I still can't stop picturing it, though. Her lithe body wrapped around him, their lips fused together. He might not want her now, but he at least fancied her enough to sleep with her as a fresher. And there will always be more Keeleys, I just don't have it in me to withstand them all.
As I look back up at him, I lose the battle with my tears and twin rivulets spill down my cheeks. “I don't think I can do this,” my voice is barely a whisper.
His face flits between concern and dread, and his frustration with me is palpable as I watch his jaw pulse. “You can't do this? This, what...as in us?”
My nod is so slight I wonder if he even noticed, but his attention is honed into my every move.
“Why? You said you believed me that I didn't kiss her, that Iwouldn'tkiss her.”
“I know,” I croak. “And I do believe you, but it doesn't change the fact that it happened. It may even happen again! Maybe not with Keeley specifically, but some other young hottie will come along wanting your attention and she'll make a move and...what if you're attracted to the next one?”
“You have to be kidding me. Right? It's like you're making up excuses to reject me now. I just don't understand why you won't give us a chance to try and be a real family, Shari. Am I so awful that the thought of being with me sends you running? Because that's what it feels like!”
To say I'm shocked at his vulnerability would be completely inadequate.
“What?” I finally find my voice. “You think I actually don't want this? With you?”
He turns to stare out of the kitchen window, his knuckles turning white from how hard he's gripping the worktop. Thetension in his shoulders is obvious, and it hurts to know I'm the one causing him this level of stress. But better for us to suffer now than further down the line when our hearts are involved. Right?
Your heart is already involved, moron.
“I really thought you were going to come around. I thought we'd finally reached a turning point yesterday. And I understand that seeing Keeley all over me like that is going to take time to forget, but it feels like you just keep finding reasons to push me away.”
He's not wrong, yesterday was a turning point for me until Keeleygate happened. But as much as it sucked, it really just opened my eyes.
“Brad, being a real family with you and this baby is the dream! But let's be real, here. That's all it is. A dream. A mere fantasy.” Surely he can see that I'm right about this?
“You're right,” he murmurs. Ok, he gets it. Good. Great, even.So why does that sting?He's agreeing with me.
“It is the dream.” His beautiful eyes are a mix of anger and sadness. Blue and green, swirling together in pain. “A dream we can have if you'd justtry! Why won't you even consider it?” He's almost yelling that last question, which only ratchets up my own ire.
“Because! I'm basically old enough to be your mother, Brad. And I'm holding you back from living your life! Maybe the next Keeley would catch your eye, and you’d try to resist at first because you’re a good guy, but then some time would pass and you’d start noticing how wrinkly and saggy I’m getting, and you’d wonder why you were so interested in me in the first place, and I'd be forgotten in the dust of your exit!” I shout back.
He takes slow steps towards me. “But you aren't my mother, are you.” It's a statement. One that makes me panic just as much as it placates my spiralling thoughts.
He’s so close now that I can smell the hint of sunscreen that seems to be permanently embedded in his skin. Squatting in front of me so he can look me directly in the eye, he murmurs, “You're not my mother, Shari. You're a gorgeous woman that I can't get enough of, who makes me laugh, a beautifully caring soul who sets my own on fire, and the mother of my unborn child. But no matter how many times I say it, you'll never really believe that I don't want to be with anyone else. That I don't want to be with you only out of a sense of obligation. And until you get out of your own head. I'm fighting a losing battle here. You're not holding me back from anything. You're holdingyourselfback from happiness.”
With that earth-shattering bomb, he brushes a tender kiss to my temple and walks out of my house, closing the door gently behind him.
I'm still staring at the frosted glass panel inset into the door as I listen to his car drive away. Even Pickles whimpers at his exit.
Am I making a mistake?
NOW
“I'd rather regret the things I've done than regret the things I haven't done.”
— LUCILLE BALL
18
PLASTIC PSYCHO
