“You lie,” Wyatt says. Again, his voice takes on a low whisper that couldn’t sound more deadly if he tried. “I see the way he looks at you.”
“Seriously?” I snap and try to push him off me. It does no good but to irritate me. Wyatt’s pulled this bullshit before, but he’s usually over it once the high wears off. “Clear head, baby. I need you to have a clear head.”
“Oh, my head’s clear, bitch.” The words fly out of his mouth like razorblades.
I flinch.
The boy I fell in love with would back off when he saw he was hurting me. But this is the man he’s become, and he’s not nearly as kind or gentle. No, the man before me sees weakness and he exploits it. It doesn’t matter that he promised to love me and to protect me. It doesn’t matter that when we conceived our son that it was in the bed we share, and that he told me I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever been able to touch. And it doesn’t matter that, like the stupid kid I was, I believed him.
“You’ve been fucking around behind my back.”
I want to tell him he’s crazy and that I’d never betray him, but I can’t get the words to form in my mouth. It wouldn’t matter anyway.
None of it matters because he’s a predator and I’m his prey. This is what we’ve become. Veritable strangers, ready to claw at each other every chance we get. He’s always bitching that I’m not the same person I used to be—that I used to be fun and I used to actually like him. Nothing he says is untrue, and so I can’t even deny it.
And I can’t do it again.
I can’t fight about the drugs or the whores or money. Because babies cost money and they need things that I can’t afford on my own, but I know damn well that Wyatt can. I can’t fight for his affection or attention anymore. This has got to end. My parents were seriously fucked in a bunch of different ways, but even they fought less than we do. If it’s like this now, then what is it going to be like when my baby is here?
He places his hands on my ass cheeks and squeezes before sliding them up to my lower back and around to the sides of my belly. I take a deep breath and relax into his touch—but just a little—because he’s always calmer after he reminds himself of the power of our love. This baby that kicks at my ribs and pushes on my bladder only exists because we dared fall in love despite everything. Baby Z is made up of the absolute best of who Wyatt and I are, and nothing and no one can ever change that.
“This baby is a fucking lifesaver,” he says quietly. His eyes are fixed on our baby. His hands roam from the sides of my stomach up to the top and then down to the bottom. He traces the stretch marks beneath my shirt with his index finger. He can’t see them from here, but he’s done this so many times, he just knows where they are. Deep inside, behind the confusion and the anger that overtakes him when he gets high, he knows me. He knows me well enough to know the lines on my stomach like they’ve always been there, even though they’re fairly new.
“Yeah, he is.” He’s calmer now, and we’re finally moving past this. I lean up and brush the back of my hand over his cheek. I love this man. Sometimes I just have to remind myself of that.
“Otherwise,” Wyatt says slowly and pauses, his voice dropping so low I barely even hear him, “I’d kill you for betraying me.”
It takes me a minute to realize what he’s said, but by then it’s too late. His hands travel up my belly and over my breasts to my neck where he squeezes at my tender flesh. It only hurts a little. Not as much as I thought it would, but enough for me to come to terms with what’s happening here. Enough to know that this is it. I can’t stay here no matter how much I love him. I can’t let this be my baby’s future.
“He’s not mine,” he says. “I still love him too much to hurt you, so I’m going to let you leave.”
I stand there motionless and watch as Wyatt releases me and steps back. His eyes are dead and his shoulders are slumped. He’s a million miles away.
“Baby, he’s yours. I never fucking cheated.” It’s a plea. A pathetic, desperate, sad-as-fuck appeal to a man I barely know anymore but love anyway.
“Tell me the truth.”
Something snaps in me, and I make a choice I can’t take back.
And I lie.
“He’s not yours.” The words come out so slowly and broken that I barely recognize my own voice. It’s ridiculous. They’re just words, but they mean so much. I don’t let myself feel the weight of them, nor do I let myself look Wyatt in the eye. I just stand there and lie like it’s the easiest thing to do in the world. It’s easier than breathing. It’s easier than thinking. I don’t like liars, but in this moment I’ve become one of them. And I don’t let myself feel it, because I think if I do, my knees will buckle and I won’t be able to leave. And I really need to leave now.
“I’m going to get my dick wet. When I’m done, you better be fucking gone.”
He turns and leaves.