What a bitch!
“I’dliterallyrather be an incubator than a reject, you plastic psycho!” Ehhh, so maturity isn't my strong suit.
She lets out a frustrated scream, clenching her fists and stamping her foot – more like a toddler than the one in my arms – and turns to stomp away again.
Brad finally turns back to me, and I'm struggling to figure out the look in his eyes. Remorse? Embarrassment? Irritation? Just plain old hangover pains?
His lips are pressed into a thin line, and yet they're trembling as he finally takes Lizzie off me to greet her properly. After peppering her face and neck with kisses, he eventually returns his attention to me and can no longer hold himself together. “Plastic psycho?” he howls with laughter.
Ohhh, so that look was amusement. Got it.
“Literally,” I reply with a laugh of my own.
“Oh my god, Shari. The things that come out of your mouth sometimes.”
You're the only good thing that's ever comeinit.
“What?”
My eyes widen. “What?” Shit,I’ve gotta stop mumbling my thoughts out loud!
I bark the most fake laugh that has ever been laughed and decide to just launch into my schedule. “So, like I said, I'm going to Cobham before the office, but I should still be home at my normal time. Am I good to just come over to say goodnight on my way through, as usual? I don't want to interrupt any other...shenanigans.” I say pointedly.
Brad groans as he places Elizabeth down to toddle between us, still firmly holding one of his fingers. She's been walking for a while, but she just doesn't have the confidence to completely let go yet. “No. No shenanigans. That one shouldn't have happened and you really should never have even seen her.” He eyes me as he pauses, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“What's there to talk about? I've been telling you to sow your wild oats since the beginning, so I'm...glad,” that word tastes a whole lot like a sour lie, “that you're finally listening to me.”
“Blaze—”
“I’m serious. Good for you! Just maybe, raise the bar a little higher next time, yeah? You should have learned that Barbies are bad by now.”
I can tell he doesn't believe me, but he does crack a smile at my dig.
“My bar for a girlfriend is in the stratosphere, I promise. And only one woman could ever reach it.”
Is he staring into my soul right now? It sure fucking feels like it with how intently he's looking at me.
“Brad—” I start, but I have no idea where to go with it. We've had this conversation too many times over the last two years, and I don't want him to feel obligated to try and give Lizzie a cookie cutter family. He should be with someone he loves just because he can't possibly stop himself. Not just someone who grew his accidental baby.
His shoulders deflate as he reads my expression and picks Lizzie back up.
“Let me know when you get to Cobham. And then when you get to the office. Lizzie say bye to mama.”
“Bye babygirl,” I coo as I inhale her baby powder scent and kiss the top of her head repeatedly. “I’ll see you for nightnights ok? I love you.”
A high pitched “Ma, Ma, Ma! Voo,” is all I get in return but that's ok. She's only seventeen months old. I can hardly expect a sonnet.
I get in my white SUV and wind down the window to say a last goodbye, and drive off with my entire world in the rearview mirror and a sick feeling in my stomach.
17th July2025
Work has beena whirlwind these last six weeks, but even with the busyness, I couldn't stop myself from picturing Brad with Deana every damn day. I know it was just a one-night stand. And I really have been encouraging him to live his life. And I witnessed just how much Deana won't be invited back for seconds.
And yet...it's not even about Deana specifically. I'm woman enough to admit that I'm jealous. I can't have him, but I don'treally want to see him with someone else either. I know it's coming, though. One day he'll meet someone wonderful and I'll have to swallow my pride. For Lizzie. But the thought of that day makes me feel truly sick.
I leave the office to pick Lizzie up from daycare. Brad will be over soon, so we can put Lizzie to bed together. It's something we try to do every night regardless of who has her. And if we can't do bedtime, we try to do breakfast. Our girl is so loved, neither of us wants to miss seeing her for even a day.
Once I have her buckled in the car and gabbing incoherently about her day, I'm on autopilot, lost in my thoughts, and mindlessly answering my baby every now and again. Watching absently as the cityscape changes from tall office buildings and shops, to two- and three-storey houses with driveways and gardens. Listening to the low thrum of the tires rolling on the tarmac. I’m so deep in my own mind that I don't even notice the unfamiliar car parked in front of my house until I pull into the driveway.
