What a fucking mess!
If I’d have just gone to the police when he first attacked me, none of this would matter. There’s no way he would get custody if they knew how this baby was conceived.
Conner comes through the door about five minutes later, carrying an overnight bag and another stuffed toy. The hospital doesn’t allow flowers so instead of a florist, my room looks like the Disney store.
The instant his eyes meet mine, he knows. “Meebs?”
I cry.
“Marcus was here. He knows I’m pregnant. He wants full custody, unless I leave you,” at least, that’s what I attempt to say.
“He was here? What the fuck. Why? Why was he here?”
He climbs onto the bed next to me, gently lifting me onto his lap. I’ve cut right back on the pain killers as they made me too sleepy, but now I can feel the pain in my back where I was kicked. He kisses the top of my head.
“Right, start from the beginning and tell me everything the fucker said.”
Before I’ve even finished, Conner is on the phone. “Get in touch with the legal team. I need the best divorce and child custody lawyers there are out there. Call me back when you’ve got someone lined up.” He ends the call.
“I need you to leave this to me, Meebs. I don’t want you stressing yourself out. I’ve got people on this.” He looks down at me. He has dark circles under his eyes and I can see that he’s lost weight, just in a few short days. Now, I’m going to give him more to worry about with these diaries and what they contain.
“Just concentrate on getting better. I’ve spoken to the doctor, you can come home tomorrow.”
I know what I need to do. As soon as we leave here, I need to go to my old house and get my diaries. I can’t give Marcus any more ammunition than he’s got to prove we’d make unfit parents.
“Con, there’s something I need to do tomorrow.” I shift on the bed so that I can see him.
“You know how I always used to keep a diary?”
He smiles, I used to let him read them when we were younger. He’d make me read out the bits where I’d written about him, the bits where I described how he made me feel.
“Of course, I remember. ‘He has the most amazing eyes. They see me, they really see me’.”
We sit and smile stupidly at each other for a few seconds.
“I’m amazed that you remember that. Blown away, in fact,” I admit.
“Of course, I remember. We may not have been together Meebs, but you were always up here.” He taps at his temple. “You were in my thoughts and my heart. Don’t ever doubt that.”
I let out a long sigh, debating whether to just say nothing about the diaries and going to collect them on my own in a few weeks, once I’m feeling better, and don’t look like I’ve been in the ring with Anderson Silva.
“What’s going on Meebs, what’s going through that beautiful brain of yours, apart from a dozen staples?”
“That’s evil. Talk about ruining the moment.”
“Well, talk to me. I know something’s bothering you.”
I both love and hate the fact that he knows me so well.
“After we weren’t together anymore, I still kept a diary, but my thoughts and feelings were a lot darker for a few years.”
He says nothing and I can’t get a read on what he’s thinking.
“I’ve still got all of those diaries. The ones from when we were together and the later ones. They’re at my old house. They’re hidden, but with all the threats that he’s made today, I’m worried.”
I need to confess my mental state after our separation.
“I was a mess, Con. Some of the things that were going through my head back then. They were seriously fucked up.”
“Like what?” he asks quietly.
I let out a long sigh.
“Like suicide. A lot of mentions of suicide.” I look down at my hands until I feel his fingers under my chin, lifting it till my eyes meet his.
“I thought about it too, for a few years. Even recently, before you I mean. Not now.”
We stare at each other in silence. We don’t need words. He gets what I was feeling and I have a pretty good idea what would’ve been going on in his head back then too.
“We need to get those diaries away from that vindictive bastard,” he says before kissing the top of my head.
“D’ya have keys?” I nod my head.
“Yeah, but they’re at Sophie’s.”
He rakes his fingers through his hair.
“I’ll go over there later and get them. Meanwhile, you need to eat the lunch Sandra made ya.”
By the time I’m seen by the doctors, discharged, and we get to my old house, it’s after eleven.