What If

“What?” she exclaimed.

I told her what Arrow’s reasons were for still living under the same roof as her and how he swore they weren’t sleeping together.

“If she weren’t pregnant, I would demand him to throw her out on her ass.”

“I know, but I feel horrible for being upset about this, especially when he’s being a good guy by not doing that, you know? But I wanted to order him to find somewhere else for her to live. But I couldn’t do it.” I ground my teeth together. “This is all a mess.”

“Like I said, The Life of Briar would be a killer show.” She chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s a glorious life,” I said sarcastically. “Listen, I’m going to get off of here.”

We hung up as I walked into my apartment where I poured myself a drink and collapsed onto the couch. When would life get easier?





Finally, Briar stopped pushing me away... well, for the most part. She answered my calls and sent me texts throughout the day. She even met up with me a few different times for a drink or for dinner, but she still kept her distance enough to show me that we weren’t taking things any further until she saw Lacey’s name scribbled across those documents. She let me hold her hand sometimes and place chaste kisses around her face, hair, on her hand. Anything else was quickly stopped by her narrowing eyes and stiffening body. The woman displayed a crazy amount of restraint. However, I struggled keeping my hands to myself. This only served to earn me the cold shoulder and a bitter reminder that I was “still married.”

Lacey was getting close to her due date. Every day that went by felt like the mixture of a ticking time bomb and a get out of jail free card. Once this baby was born, I’d either be the father, or I wouldn’t. It seemed the answer to that big question was going to determine which way my life would go.

To be fair, if the kid was mine, I would love him. Yes, we found out the baby was boy. Lacey cried when she held the picture with the arrow pointing to his male parts. I smiled, congratulated her, but I truly felt that child wasn’t mine.

I didn’t want to stress Lacey out, though. It’s wouldn’t be healthy for the baby. So I didn’t bring up the divorce very often because when I did, she either ignored me or went all hormonal-lunatic on me. Swear, I thought she was going to murder me in my sleep one night after a particularly extreme argument between the two of us.



One breezy evening I heard Lacey hollering my name from the bathroom. Typically, I would be annoyed thinking that she was going to go off on me again for talking to Briar all night. She really thought she had the power to stop me. She didn’t. But this time there was an urgency to her voice. I stood quickly from my place on the couch and ran to the door of the bathroom and opened it slowly.

“Are you okay?” I asked as the door made the creaking noise.

She stood in front of the mirror with a pair of gray yoga pants on that were drenched in the front, making it look like she pissed her pants. My eyes widened. No way.

“My water just broke!” she said frantically. Her large belly pressed against the fabric of her shirt. “Ah!” she screamed, wrapping her hand around her hardened stomach.

I froze immobilized, completely stuck in place, not knowing what to do. I knew she was having contractions, but there wasn’t really anything I could do about that. So I stood there like a complete invalid and waited for her instructions.

“Call the hospital,” she begged through clenched teeth.

I dialed the number and gave them all of Lacey’s information. They asked some questions and then told me to bring her in as soon as possible. Finally - instructions.

“I have a bag packed in the closet.” Lacey wobbled into the front room breathing in a deep, rhythmic way.

I rushed into the room, grabbed the expensive looking bag and took it out into the truck. Then, I grabbed Lacey’s arms and helped her out to the vehicle. This was the first time I wished I had a car instead of a truck. Getting a pregnant woman in and out of this monster was a feat.

Once we arrived at the hospital they sat her down in a wheelchair and pushed her into a room. I waited outside the door, not knowing what to do. I didn’t want her to be alone while she went through what sounded like unbearable pain, but at the same time I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about us. This didn’t change anything. But what if the baby was mine? I didn’t want to miss out on the birth of my own kid.

I sent a quick text to Briar, letting her know what was going on with Lacey and that I was at the hospital. She wished me luck but other than that was quiet. I knew her thoughts mirrored mine. She was worried, nervous, and scared that the kid would be mine. But at the same time I knew Briar would never hate my baby, if he were mine. My emotions were so conflicted. I wanted to be excited and happy if he was mine, and I’m sure I would be. But what would Briar feel?

The hospital room’s sterile odor smelled like a typical doctors office. I spent more than my fair share of time in a hospital back in Afghanistan. The room brought an onslaught of those memories back to me. Rapidly, over and over the horrible details played in my head. But I reminded myself it was over now. I survived. We all survived. I hadn’t realized my eyes were clenched and I was leaning against the wall in Lacey’s room. I forced myself to relax and blinked open my eyes and looked around the room.

A nurse was hooking up an IV to Lacey’s arm and looking up at me with trepidation. “I’m alright,” I commented and walked over to the bed.

“You okay?” I asked Lacey.

Her jaw was working back and forth, her hands flexing and squeezing the rails at her sides. “It hurts.”

“The doctor will be in to check on you in a minute. He’ll see how far you’re dilated and talk about the epidural.”

Lacey nodded stiffly; I thanked the nurse.

The doctor came in soon after and told us that she was already four centimeters dilated. “Oh, this baby is going to be here soon. Did you want an epidural? If so, we need to get that done right away.”

Lacey said she needed one. Not too long later, she had the epidural put in and was calming down as the medicine numbed most of her pain.

I stayed to the side and listened for what the doctor or nurses would say and waited.

Two hours later the doctor came back in the room and said the words that made sweat break out across my forehead. “It’s time to push.”



Inconsistent: that’s how I would describe my thoughts after the text from Arrow informing me that Lacey was in labor. One minute I would fidget constantly with nerves, next I was eager for all of this to be put behind us, whatever the answer was. At least we would know instead of being stuck in this constant state of what if. The worst feeling was when my stomach would cramp up with sharp pain. I would rush to the bathroom, thinking I was going to get sick. I didn’t though. Instead I ended up sitting on the tiled floor in front of the toilet, arms applying pressure to my stomach and grimacing.

Waiting to hear a word from him was more difficult than the entire past six months. This was it! He was either the father or he wasn’t. We both did research and found out that it would take around twenty-four hours to get the results from the paternity test. Add that time to however long it took for Lacey to actually give birth to the baby and we could be waiting a very long time for any news.