My mind races, recalling all his text messages.
Blaming me for Ryan breaking up with him.
How I got in the way of him being happy.
“How could I what?”
I lean my head back on the padded rest to stretch out the kink in my neck, which has become stiffer than a stripper’s pole during dollar hour.
“I never stood a chance, did I? How could I hold a candle toyou, Christopher fucking Foster.” His venom starts to pour through my phone.
“That’s not fair,” I say, switching the phone to my other ear. A ball of anger rises in my chest.
“Do you know what’s not fair?” Stephen’s voice is becoming hysterical. “That Ryan’s still in love with you. That he never stopped loving you. That he was only going out with me to get back at you.”
I don’t know who to be angrier at: At Ryan for what he told Stephen. For the messages Ryan sent me when this was all going down. Or Stephen, for putting us in this situation in the first place.
I take two deep breaths as darkness falls across the London sky as we drive through Regents Park.
“That’s not my fault.”
“It’s all your fault.” The petulance in his voice, like that of a teenager throwing a strop, pushes my patience beyond its limit. Even my stress ball, which I don’t have right now anyway, could stop me now.
“Actually Stephen, it is all your fault,” I snap at him like a dog owner tightening the leash.
“How dare you?” Stephen yells back at me.
“How dare I? How dare I? How dareyou,” I say, completely losing my shit. “How dare you blame me when you were the one who broke our code by going out with my ex-boyfriend. It’s not my fault that Ryan broke up with you. That Ryan is still in love with me. If you’d actually stopped for a minute and thought with your head rather than your penis, then we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Up until now, I’ve always been supportive of Stephen when he’s gone through a breakup. But I’ve had enough of him always playing the victim, of always placating the narrative he spins in his head to make things easier for him.
Maybe hearing a few home truths will do him the world of good.
“We’re here,” the taxi driver says, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
The taxi stops right outside the main entrance of the hospital. I tap my card on the reader and exit the car. Stephen finally breaks his silence as I enter the reception area.
“You were the one who gave us your blessing. You were the one who said you were okay with me and Ryan going out together.”
“That’s it. Cast me as the martyr while you play the victim. You know what, Stephen, if that’s what it takes to make you sleep better tonight, then fine, make me the martyr. I don’t care. I’ve got more important things to worry about right now than getting upset over something I didn’t do.”
I hang up the phone and immediately block his number before he has a chance to respond or call back. At some point I am going to have to deal with Ryan, too, but right now isn’t the time. I block his number too, and head toward the maternity unit, where I see Daniel turning into the convenience store.
I call out and he stops. We hug and exchange pleasantries before entering the shop.
“How is she?” I ask. The weariness in Daniel’s face surpasses mine, even if he looks more comfortable in his baggy hoodie and sweatpants.
“She’s holding up. The little man isn’t quite ready to come out yet. The midwife said there’s nothing to worry about, and you know Kelly. She’s determined to give birth naturally, despite any pain she might be in.”
I roll my eyes and nod as Daniel grabs a double shot espresso from the fridge.
“Here let me get that for you,” I say, grabbing a Red Bull for myself. “How about you? How are you doing with all of this? It’s been what, fourteen hours now since you got here?”
“Sixteen,” Daniel says with a yawn. “It’s hard, man. Just standing there not able to do anything other than support Kelly while she goes through this.”
I pay for the drinks and we head past the chapel, down the corridors, and through to the maternity ward, where my mum sits alongside Kelly in the second room.
“What took you so long?” she says when she sees me.
