Marital Bitch (Men with Badges)

Chapter TWENTY TWO

(Brad)

Of course, I love you.

“AH, COME ON, stink. Don’t hide from me. You know he was only joking!” I shout, rushing up the stairs. As I walk into the bedroom, I find Colleen curled up underneath the covers. I crawl in behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. Her head is beneath her pillow. She refuses to move it.

“Why are you hiding from me?” I ask, somewhat afraid of what the answer might be.

“I’m not hiding from you. I’m hiding from the world. I stink,” she whines, clutching tightly to her pillow. I know that’s not the real reason, but I’ll accept this answer for now.

“Yeah, well, you just stay right there,” I say, curling around her and getting comfortable. “We have a few hours before we have to go. Let’s nap.” She doesn’t speak, but she does remove the pillow from her face and toss it across the bed opting instead, to lay her head on my arm. We lay like this for a while before she dozes off. Sometime later she stirs and her body stiffens in my arms.

"Brad?" My pretty girl's voice breaks my thoughts. She shifts in my arms and turns to face me. Only, her head is cast down and she's refusing to meet my eyes. "I'm not on anything," she whispers.

I'm a detective. I should be perceptive enough to know what she means. At the very least I understand that this statement has significance.

"I never said you were," I defend myself, thinking she thinks I'm accusing her of something. Colleen likes to fight with me, so there's a very good chance she's just throwing this out there to see how pissed off she can make me. She knows I hate it when she puts words in my mouth.

"Do you get what I'm saying?" her voice gets small, almost indistinguishable from the low whizzing of the heater as it pushes warm air through the house. The thing is, I don't get what she's saying. Though, in the back of my skull, I wonder if I really do get it and I'm just playing dumb.

I lift up her chin, forcing her to look at me. She stubbornly refusing to look me in the eyes; instead opting for staring at my ear. I use my other hand to lightly flick her nose. Immediately, she shoots me a glare.

"The hell?" She grumbles.

"Eyes front and center, pretty girl," I demand. Okay, so it's not much of a demand. If she didn't do it, what could I really do about it? Nothing. But she does look at me. Just when I think she'll never listen, she does. And that's part of what I love about this insufferable woman-- she keeps me guessing.

"I don't know what you're talking about, but it sounds important," I say. Being straightforward is probably the best option at this point. I think.

"Brad," she whines and tries to cover her face, but I block her. Without turning away she from me she says, "I'm not ON anything." It takes only a split second before her meaning seeps through my thick skull. She's not ON anything. No birth control. We've never used a condom, and it’s been great.

Not for a single moment have I ever considered birth control. It just wasn't a concern. With every other woman, I've been Captain Careful; but this is Colleen. Who cares if we have a kid? I guess that's what I was thinking at least, because the fear of pregnancy never struck me.

"Please say something," she whispers, her eyes filled with unshed tears. I smile at her as best I can. It's not that I'm annoyed with her, I'm just in shock. I don't know what to say or do right now. I can't place the responsibility on her because I never brought it up. And even if I could, I'm not pissed about the possibility. Maybe I sound lame for saying it, but I want to be a dad. I like kids. They're fun and entertaining, and damn if James and Darla's daughter, Lilly, doesn't have me wrapped around her little finger.

I look at James and see the way his entire demeanor changes when he sees his kids and I envy the bastard. The day Lilly was born, he actually cried. Bawled like a bitch in front of all the boys in the middle of the hospital. A few of the guys there thought he looked like a tool, but most of them "got it." Meanwhile, I stood there wishing I'd "gotten it."

"So?" I manage to say because my brain hasn't caught up to my mouth just yet. And that does it. She starts with the goddamn crying. I want to tell her that it's alright. I want to tell her that I'll be here for her no matter what. I want to tell her that I love her and that if I have or do knock her up, that I'll be the happiest man on the planet. But I'm an idiot so I don't.

"Ah, come on," I say. I wipe the tears from her eyes and kiss her forehead. "Why are you crying?" I ask, trying to sound gentle because I don't want to see anymore f*cking tears.

"You're an a*shole!" she shouts in my face. I pull back, my ears ringing, annoyed. What the hell is with the shouting now?

"What's your damn problem?" I snap back.

"MY problem!" She snorts. When she's pissed, like now, her accent is really strong and it's hot. "I tell you that we've been having sex without any protection and you stare at me like I'm speaking a foreign goddamn language!" The truth is, sometimes I do think she's speaking a foreign goddamn language.

"I'm trying to be comforting here!" I growl, because I'm really trying and she's not making it easy. Once again, I go from wanting to kiss her to wanting to choke her.

"Ha!" She laughs, but not a trace of humor is to be found in her features.

"Do you want a baby or not!" I yell. I can feel my veins pumping with adrenaline. All I wanted was a nice nap and she's pulling the theatrics.

"What?" Her eyes go wide and she stares at me blankly.

"You heard me! Do you want a baby or not, because if you do, just say it and I'll knock you up!"

"What?" She asks. She's paled and she looks almost sick.

"Would you knock that off?" I lower my voice. "You want a baby?"

"Um," her voice waivers and she starts crying again. Oh hell. I can't win for losing here. "With you?" She asks through the tears. I can't tell if she's hopeful or disgusted. In order to spare my ego, I decide to go with the former.

"No," I smile, trying to stop the damn waterworks, "with the mail man." She laughs. A real f*cking laugh; and I know we're going to be okay.

"We have a mail lady," Colleen quips. I roll my eyes. Hot and cold all the time; Colleen can't pick a mood and stick with it

"Come on, pretty girl," I whine, "quit bustin' my balls, will ya?" She giggles and buries her face in my chest. So she's shy all of a sudden? Hm.

"You're not mad at me?" she asks.

"For what?" I stare at her dumbly. Again, I'm slow on the uptake. "Oh, no actually, this was part of my plan," I laugh, trying to make her feel better. "I think I'll keep you," I smirk.

"You want to keep me?" her head pops up. She's looking at me like I just invented chocolate or something else she'd really like. Hm, for once it seems I've said the right thing.

"Of course, I love you," I blurt out without thinking. She looks like she's been shot in the butt with a pellet gun. This isn't good. This isn't how this was supposed to happen.

"Uh," she says. She's stopped breathing and hasn't moved her eyes from mine.

"Colleen,” I ask.

"Huh?" she says, looking appropriately stunned. Of course she doesn't know what to say. I'm her best friend. I'm not REALLY a husband, I guess. I feel like a fool. These past few weeks I'd allowed myself to believe that there was more to our relationship than just friendship.

"You... love... me?" she mutters. I wish she knew how much I love her. I wish I could tell her. My mouth keeps opening and closing of its own volition, but nothing comes out.

"Yeah," I say, staring into her eyes, imploring some kind of sign that she could possibly love me, too. Even if it's a little bit, I'll take it. I feel a moment of hope before my world shatters.

"Oh," she whispers. Her mouth opens and then closes and opens again. She doesn't know what to say. I don't blame her. She can't help it if she doesn't feel the same way. I feel like throwing up. If I don't do something, I'll have completely ruined what little bit I have with her.

Her mouth opens and in a moment of panic, I rush to talk over her.

"As a friend," I lie and laugh lightly. Through my own voice, I hear hers.

"I love you, too," she says and then laughs. There's a moment where I think she's serious. Or maybe I'm hearing things. And then it passes and it's gone so quickly that I think it never happened.

"As a friend," she clarifies. I laugh a little more, forcing myself not to fall apart. I've loved this woman my entire life; and this is what's come of it. A lifetime's worth of disappointments fester in my gut, threatening to spill out. The laughter that comes from her sends my lunch to my throat and I rush from the bed to the bathroom where I expel my breakfast.