“I had a change of heart.” Or death of heart.
“Sorry. Spot’s been taken.”
“Right.” I turn left to hop on the freeway. “I want it back.”
“Fuck,” he mumbles. “When did you get so fucking stubborn?”
“Just give me a time, Cam, and I’ll be there.”
“You get a passport?”
“I did.”
He blows out a breath and, after a couple beats of silence, says, “United. Flight leaves at seven twenty tomorrow morning.”
“Tell Rex I’ll meet him at the gate.”
I hit “end” and toss my phone to the passenger seat.
Still, I feel nothing.
Twenty
Axelle
Drawing a figure-eight pattern in my Cocoa Puffs doesn’t make it taste any less like glue. My mom’s been trying to induce my appetite all morning, but it’s all been for nothing.
We both pretend it’s the pregnancy, but the sad smiles and sporadic hugs she’s been giving me make me think I’m not as good at covering up my true feelings as I’d like to think I am.
I didn’t go back to my place after Killian left yesterday. There’s no way I’m ready to face Mindy—admitting my stupidity to three people was enough for one day—and my mom insisted I shouldn’t be alone. I wanted to scream that she was wrong and people needed to stop telling me what to do, but I was too emotionally exhausted to fight. I slept most of the remainder of the day away, and considering how much I slept, I was surprised I was able to sleep well last night. It was almost as if my body forced my brain to abandon ship in order to protect it from going down alongside my heart.
The bad part of sleeping for thirteen straight hours through is waking up rested at five o’clock in the morning. The moment my eyes opened all systems were back online and replaying the last twenty-four hours in vivid detail. How quickly life can go from unlimited possibilities to being stripped of all possibilities. No matter how many times I replay yesterday’s events, I can’t bring myself to regret the decision I made.
I had to let him go.
Taking him up on what he was offering would’ve been the most selfish thing I could’ve done. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of being selfish.
I’m tired of the guilt, tired of feeling like shit all the time.
Because behind all this heartbreak and sadness there’s a flicker of good; for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m actually proud of myself because I did the opposite of what felt good. I did what was right.
Even if it meant crushing my soul.
“You really need to eat something.” My mom slides a plate of fresh cut cantaloupe beside my uneaten bowl of cereal. “It’s not good for you or the baby.” She bites her lip and her eyes fill with tears.
I cover her hand with mine, my eyes filling right along with hers. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
She shakes her head and pulls herself together with a shaky smile. “Don’t be sorry. Some of our biggest mistakes end up being our greatest blessings.” She kisses my forehead and moves to the kitchen sink to wash dishes.
I suck a few pieces of fruit into my mouth, and the sweet juice bursts on my tongue. Finally, something I can eat. I make my way through a few more pieces when Blake comes in and drops into the seat next to me. “How’re you doing today?”
I shrug. “Good, I guess.”
He seems conflicted about something, but gets over it quickly. “What’s the plan?”
“Ha, like there’s a plan.”
My mom sips her coffee. “One day at a time.”
“I think I need to go talk to Clifford.” My stomach bottoms out at the thought of telling him I’m pregnant. I can’t even imagine how he’ll respond to the news. I’ll give him the option to be involved and pray he accepts responsibility. This baby deserves to know his or her father—deserves better than I had.
Mom purses her lips. “I don’t know if you’re ready for that.”
Blake nods his agreement. “Take some time. You need to—”
“Stop!”
Their eyes widen and dart to each other as if to say what did we do?
“I’m sorry. I…” I rub my forehead and try to relax. “I appreciate your support, but you guys have got to stop trying to tell me what to do, okay? Your hearts are in the right place, but I have to make these decisions on my own. I’m going to talk to Clifford today.”
My mom flashes a thin smile as if she’s holding back what she wants to say, which I know has to be hard, but I appreciate her respecting my wishes.
Blake makes a sound like he’s sucking on his teeth. “What time you wanna head over there?”
It’s Sunday. Chances are he’ll be home, most likely sleeping in. “The earlier the better. If I wake him up, I’ll be able to catch him while he’s still sober.”
Blake groans but receives a sharp look from my mom that shuts him up. “Alright.” He claps his hands. “Get showered and we’ll head over to Cliff’s place to wake his ass up.”
I whirl around to face him. “No way. I’m doing this alone.”