Conflicted Love
Page 3

“What?” she sighed slipping her black stiletto boots off and leaning against the wall across the room from me.
“Hurt a dude like that. I didn’t know you could.” I nodded down to my lap for emphasis.
“I had to learn. Look, Trip, I know you want to do the right thing here, but I told you it’s not your problem. I’ll take care of it myself, so you should just go,” Teeny rushed her words out looking down at the floor.
“I’m not leavin’ till we talk, Princess.” The cold seeping through my pants was helping to numb the pain still lingering in my favorite place.
“I just want a hot shower and to fall into bed. I’ve had a long day. My feet hurt and there isn’t anything to say to each other. We had a thing; it was one night, and I knew that; you knew that. We were drunk. It was stupid so forget it ever happened.” She closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around herself. She sounded exhausted.
“Few things wrong with that little speech. First of all, I won’t forget about it. Second, if I have my way, it won’t be a ‘one night’ thing, and lastly, we’re havin’ a kid together. I’m gonna be around a lot. In fact, I think we should try this,” I indicated between the two of us, “us thing. I don’t know how it’s done, but it’d be best for the kid,” I blurted, not even thinking before the words left my mouth.
Apparently, I had said something stupid because her tired face went hard. Her eyes flared and she pushed off the wall taking a few steps toward me before opening her mouth, “First of all, you don’t get to walk into my damn life and tell me how it’s going to go. We are never going to be in the same room together unless it is for a death, a wedding or hell freezing over.” She ticked each one off on her fingers. “Even then, I might push you out in the storm. Second of all, don’t be a cocky prick, and lastly, I’m not even sure I’m keeping it!” she yelled the last right in my face. My stomach dropped and blood roared in my ears. I balled my fists up at my sides and stared.
“Say again?” I asked in a deathly calm voice that was anything but how I was feeling.
Chapter Two
Teeny
I knew I’d pushed too far the moment he went solid as a statue. I took a step back as his face went from confused to furious in the space of a breath. He stood up from the couch, his eyes boring into me.
“Say that again,” he spat out. “Do not fuck with me, Teeny.”
Oh, he was mad, really mad. Just before I went to speak up and apologize, I gave myself a mental slap around the head. This was not up to him. He did not get to be mad at me. Screw him.
“I don’t know the first thing about kids. Look around; you think a kid should live in a tiny apartment like this? With somebody like me?” I pointed to my chest emphasizing my rant. “I never planned on having any, and especially not with somebody like you,” I explained.
He took a big step forward right into my personal space and hissed, “That’s my kid too. I didn’t really get that before, but that’s my kid too. I get a say in this. I might not be a stand-up role model, but for the right reason, I can fucking change that.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Shaking his head, his tone softened, “Princess, there ain’t a God damn thing wrong with you, never has been. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life, despite your temper and smart mouth.”
Yeah right, all I’d ever been was a one-night stand. He could sprout his bullshit elsewhere. “Can you just leave? I’m too tired for this shit. I haven’t decided anything. I’ll let you know when I make my mind up.”
“No.” His eyes flared again, his gorgeous face hard with anger. “I’m as much a part of this as you. When do you go to the doctor or whatever it is you gotta do?”
“I’ll let you know. Just let me be, Trip. I didn’t ask for you to be here for me. I don’t need your help and I don’t want it,” I breathed out exasperated.
“Don’t be like that, Teeny. I just wanna do what’s right,” he said, his body still radiating waves of ‘pissed way the hell off’.
Fuck him. I was no charity case. “You know where the door is. I’ll let you know one way or the other,” I dismissed him as I started for the bathroom. My feet hurt from the twelve-hour shift I’d just finished. I was hungry, tired and just flat out fed up.
I didn’t bother to look back at him, and by the time I made it to my bedroom to get my pajamas, I heard the front door slam shut rattling the pictures on the walls. Sliding down the wall to sit on my ass, I waited until I heard the roar of his bike taking off before I pulled my knees up to my chest and broke down into big ugly-girl sobs. If this was what hormones did, I didn’t want a part of it. I cried at the drop of a hat; I was tired all the freaking time and I was being a grade-A bitch. But Trip, he couldn’t come round demanding rights and all that bullshit. He didn’t want me; he wanted something for a kid that didn’t even really exist yet. He was doing the ‘noble thing’ and sacrificing his happiness and mine, for what? A lie. That’s all we would ever be, a lie. I didn’t think I would be able to live a life where I was the chick he knocked up and stayed with because it was the right thing to do. Besides, Trip was the least of my worries. I had a big decision to make.
I never planned to have children. Depression ran in my family. My mother overdosed when I was eight-years-old. She’d somehow managed to survive the overdose. However, as an eight-year-old child walking into their parents’ room to ask for breakfast only to find mommy on the floor choking on her own vomit, was enough to damage anybody for life. She was diagnosed with postpartum depression right after I was born. My father decided it was too hard to deal with so he turned tail and ran, right into the beds of half-the-states’ female population. He was a slut, no other way to put it. I had at last count nine brothers and sisters, all of whom I had nothing to do with. So as a whole, I came from a screwed-up family that I no longer saw, spoke to or acknowledged. As far as I was concerned, they were dead to me. My family now was Scarlett, just Scarlett. I worked long, late hours at a bar; I lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment with peeling paint and shitty worn-out carpet. I drove a death trap of a car. I spent a stupid amount of money on designer clothes I found at bargain prices hoping to feel special or something like it, and I was left with the hard choice of whether I could bring a child into this kind of life; a life I didn’t even like. A life where I might be a mother like mine was.
Deep breath in, deep breath out, in and out, I repeated my mantra calming my shaking body as I wiped away the tears streaming down my face. Standing on trembling legs, I made it into the bathroom and ran a hot shower. Pushing down the urge to puke again, I thought about how much longer I would have to deal with this. Am I going to be one of those women who upchucks every day for forty freaking weeks, or is there some sort of cutoff date? Whoever the moron was who said pregnancy was beautiful, lied through his ass, because all I’d done was vomit, sleep and cry. None of which resembled anything close to fun.
After a short and mostly warm shower, my nightly routine of vomit, teeth brushing, rinse and repeat, I choked down a few dry crackers and half a glass of ginger ale. I crawled into bed tossing and turning before falling into a fitful sleep full of dreams about the perfect American life that I convinced myself I didn’t want or need.
Not ever.
I’d made my decision and it was the right one for me. I knew it was.
“You weren’t planning on telling me about this, were you?“ Startled, I looked up to see a set of stone-cold blue eyes. “You were just going to leave me out of it. I want to be here, Teeny. You should have told me this was what you decided on.” The strong smell of antiseptic assaulted me as another woman was called in from the waiting area. I ran my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans before looking up at where he stood in front of me. He looked gorgeous dressed in scuffed black boots, faded black jeans and a blue cotton t-shirt. His full-arm sleeve tattoos were on show and his hair was covered by one of the beanies he’d taken to wearing lately. I bit the inside of my mouth to stop myself from blurting something inappropriate considering we were in the middle of a clinic waiting room, and well, it was Trip. He didn’t need to know what he did to my libido. The fact he wasn’t supposed to know I was there registered, so I pulled him down into the hard plastic chair beside me and asked barely above a whisper, “How did you know I was here? Did you follow me?” Avoiding eye contact, I cleared my throat.
“No, I didn’t fucking follow you. I’m not some creeper,” he hissed quietly. “You should have told me you were coming here today. Why won’t you let me help? I can hold your hand or some shit.” I made the mistake of looking up at him; a look of hurt crossed his face before I could put my walls up and tell him to leave. Reaching over, I put my hand lightly on his arm; the contrast of his colorful skin under my pale hand did nothing to help my resolve.
The story inked into his skin had always piqued my interest. While I’d always wanted to, I’d never had the opportunity to really look at them. They meant something to him, every single one of them marked a point in his life where something significant enough had happened for him to permanently put that moment under his skin with ink and needles. It was a photo album of sorts, just out there for the world to see. His stormy blue eyes met mine. For a moment, I lost all ability to breathe; he’d always had that effect on me, but right then, it was like he was looking at me instead of through me. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes dropping to my mouth. A shudder wracked through my body at the thought of his lips on mine. He raked his teeth over the twin pieces of metal that hooked through the bottom corner of his lip making up the snakebite piercings. Goosebumps broke out across my skin as he leaned in a little closer. My eyes drifted shut and my breath hitched, my body suddenly on fire. The smell of his cologne shut down all brain function as it invaded my senses. The heat radiating off his mouth, just inches from mine, was driving me wild, my chest rising and falling with each fast breath giving away my instant reaction. I leaned in to close the gap.
“Ms. Garret?” the male voice broke through the haze. Trip and I jolted back from one another. Realizing what had almost happened; I mentally chided myself and moved my shaking hand to pick up my purse as Trip stood. Following the doctor, I slowed when I realized he was on my heels. “What are you doing?” I asked putting a hand on his chest to stop his progress.
“I’m coming in with you,” he told me matter-of-factly. Before I could argue, he took my hand in his much larger one and pulled me in the direction of the doctor.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Garret. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Stanza and I’m going to be taking care of you today.” The doctor handed me a folded piece of blue fabric. “Now, I’ll just step out while you change into this gown and hop yourself up on the bed over there. When you’re ready, we can get this underway.”