We drive to the hospital in silence. The enormity of our situation is hitting me full-on. This would have been a happy time, something we’d prayed for, something we were excited to share. It’s meant to be a joyous occasion, but that was before I went and fucked it all up.
As we head inside, I stuff my hands in my pockets to avoid reaching for her. The need to place my hand at the bottom of her back is overwhelming. I’ve never been so close to her yet felt so distant.
And I know deep down she doesn’t want me here. I can feel it. And I totally understand why.
She hands over her notes to the receptionist, smiling broadly.I miss that smile.I never get to witness it anymore. Instead, I get pain.
The receptionist leads us to another waiting area, and they chat animatedly, as if I’m not even here. I focus on Hell and how beautiful she looks carrying our child. Her body is hot. It always was, but now that she’s growing my child . . .fuck.She walks in front of me, her body taunting me as her hips sway.
I lower myself into the seat next to her.
“Some ground rules,” she whispers, and I glance at her. Her smile is gone now. Instead, irritation is back. “You don’t touch me,” she says, her tone laced with venom. “I don’t even want to hear you in there. You are purely here to see our child, nothing more.”
I nod, but it’s like a knife twisting in my heart. Every time I think we’re making progress, she reminds me where I stand.On the outside looking in.
I remind myself that I need to take every moment she offers, and if I’m only to be here to see my child and nothing more, then so be it. She needs to see that I mean it, that I’m here no matter what.
I make a silent vow to keep putting this right, no matter how many times she reminds me I can’t. I’d already stopped drinking, though I doubt she’s noticed. And I refuse to sleep with anyone else. After all, that’s how I got into this mess.
We might not be together, but there’s no one else for me on this earth. And if she never takes me back, I’ll be alone forever.It’s what I deserve.
My phone pings, and I remove it from my pocket. I feel her looking over my shoulder.
Gears: Want me to get the bike down the garage whilst you got the car and make the repairs?
I can almost feel her grin even though I’m not looking at her.
Me: No, it doesn’t get repaired until Hell says it does.
She laughs beside me. “You’re lucky I didn’t torch the fucker.”
But I’m serious. I won’t get the bike sorted until she says so. And if it stays a mess forever, then it will serve as a good reminder of all the ways I’ve hurt her.
“Rochelle Mitchell?”
My head snaps up as the nurse looks around the room and Hell pushes to her feet.
“You used your maiden name?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She glances back, a smirk pulling on her lips. “You honestly thought I should use my married one?”
My heart twists again as I follow her into the dimly-lit room.
“Pop up onto the bed for me,” the sonographer says.
Hell heaves herself onto the bed, rolling up her top to expose the neatest little bump I’ve ever seen.
“You can take a seat here, sir,” the sonographer says, pointing to a chair next to the bed. “Are you the father?” she asks.
I nod, opening my mouth to reply, but Hell interrupts.
“Yes, but we aren’t together,” she spits, and the lady looks around the room sheepishly.
“Okay, let’s get started,” she rushes out, tucking tissue in Hell’s waistband. “So, today is just to check the baby’s growth?” Hell nods. “Are you feeling any movements yet?”
“Yeah,” Hell replies, smiling from ear to ear.
I hate that I didn’t know this information, that she didn’t share it.
