Chapter 19
Bennett
"I'm going to wait outside," I say before turning and walking out of the room. The whole time, my body and my head tell me to go to her. The whole time, I had to fight with my eyes not to look at her.
When I walked out of the room the first time, I took two steps down the hallway and had to stop and put my hand against the wall to help hold me up. Walking away from her has to be the hardest thing I've ever done in my whole life. Telling her I love her, knowing that it might be the end of us. Standing in that room after going crazy looking for her and finding out that our baby may be lost and her not even bothering to call me was too much. I should have taken a second to think about it. I should have just walked away and gathered my thoughts. I sat in that waiting room with my heart broken from walking away from her, yet full from learning that the baby was okay.
I don't even know how long I sat there. It was as if I was in a daze. As if the world around me was going full force in a circle like a tornado, yet I sat in the middle of it just watching the destruction and devastation around me. When Clarabella came out to get me, I thought she was going to tell me that Presley wanted me. I had this little glimmer of hope in me that she did love me, but once I got inside, she told me the doctor was there. The light from the candle of hope that I had going on was blown out.
Now I'm sitting in that chair again, my whole body feeling like it got run over by a Mack truck. Front and back. I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees, and just hang my head. How did this day go from one of the best days of my life to the absolute worst day of my life in a blink of an eye?
I hear footsteps and turn my head to look up and see them walking toward me. Presley has her head looking down as Clarabella says something to her. When she looks up, I make the mistake of looking into her eyes, and it just shatters me again. She doesn't want you, my head screams, and I exhale a deep breath before getting up. "Hey," I say, looking at Clarabella, afraid to look over at Presley. “Everything okay?"
"Peachy keen,” Clarabella replies.
"Okay, I'm going to head out." I point with my thumb toward the door. “Let me know if—" I stop talking. “Just, I guess, keep me informed."
"Of course." Presley’s voice comes out so soft if I wasn't paying attention, I would think I made it up. Everything in me wants to take her home and make sure she's well taken care of. I want to take her home and put her to bed. I want to take her home just to take her home, but instead, I nod my head at them and turn to walk out of the hospital.
I sit in my car and watch them come out, neither of them talking. I think about following them to make sure she gets home okay, but I don't. Instead, I make my way back to my house, walking in and the smell of flowers hits me right away.
"Fuck." I walk into the kitchen and get a huge black garbage bag. I walk around the room, taking the flowers and tossing them away. After cleaning up, I turn off the lights and walk up the stairs. The phone in my hand is almost as if it's a cement brick, getting heavier and heavier as the minutes tick by.
No matter what I do, I can't shut off my mind. Stepping into the shower, all I can see is her sitting in the hospital bed staring at me. Lying in the bed on my pillow, the only thing I can smell is her beside me. I watch the hours tick by like years, and finally, when the sun comes up, I get up and walk downstairs to make coffee. I pick up the phone for what is the millionth time since I got home to see if she texted me, but she hasn't. "I guess no news is good news."
When I walk into the office, I put my things down on my desk and walk down the hallway to see one of the partners. Knocking on the open door, I stick my head in to see Damian. “Hey there," I say, and he looks up. "Mind if I come in?"
"Please," he says, taking his glasses off and putting them on the papers in front of him. “Come in."
"Thank you. If you have a second, I would love some advice," I tell him, and his eyebrows pinch together.
"Close the door," he says, and I nod, closing the door and then walking over to sit in one of the chairs facing him.
"This is fucking weird." I laugh nervously as Damian leans back in his chair. I can tell from the look of confusion on Damian's face that his head is spinning. "I need a lawyer," I state and then let out a huge breath that I've been holding. "Fuck, this is harder than I thought," I say, the pain hitting me in my chest.
"Take it one step at a time," he says and gets up from his chair, walking around the desk. He comes to sit next to me in the chair beside me. “Do I need to get the other partners in here?"
"No." I shake my head. “I need a family lawyer." He just looks at me. “I'm going to be a father."
"Holy shit," Damian says with a smile on his face. “Congratulations."
"Thanks," I say, smiling. “It's a great surprise."
"Are you and the mother…?" he starts to ask, and I shake my head.
"We are not." Those three words come out of my mouth, and then the lump forms. So big it feels like those boulders that you put in place to stop things from coming out. "I want to know my rights."
"What do you want realistically?” he asks.
"I want to be able to raise my child fifty-fifty." My eyes sting with tears that come. “That's all I want." My voice trails off because the only thing else I want is to be able to raise the baby with Presley by my side. But that isn't in the cards for me. "I don't know what else to ask for."
"How about I draw up a contract?" he suggests to me. “And we can go over things."
"Yes," I tell him. “And if you don't mind, I'd like to keep it confidential for now." He nods at me, and I get up. “I'll be around if you have questions."
"I'll work on this myself," he says when I get to the door, and all I can do is nod at him. I try to get lost in my work, and it only works half the time. The other half of the time, I'm sitting in my desk chair looking out the window, wondering what she's doing.
I'm sitting on the couch drinking a beer as I try to focus on a baseball game when the doorbell rings. My feet are moving before I can think about it, and the minute I open the door, all the hope that I had that it would be her is gone. “Hey." Travis stands there with a bottle of scotch in his hand. “Clarabella called and said you might need a drink." I pfft out and turn back to walk toward the kitchen. I grab two shot glasses and turn back, watching Travis sit down on one of the stools. “I'm assuming she said no."
"Didn't even get there," I tell him, holding out my hand for him to give me the bottle. “She started bleeding." Travis gasps when I say those words. “She's fine. The baby is fine." I hold up my hand before he freaks out. “But let’s just say, I wasn't her first call." He looks at me, his mouth still open. “It is what it is," I say, shrugging and not bothering to make eye contact with him. I pour two shots of scotch, handing him one.
"What are you going to do?” he asks while I down a shot and then quickly pour myself another one. The burning of the second shot is even worse than the first one.
"There isn't anything for me to do," I share. “If she needs help, I'll always be there. But my main focus now is on the baby and co-parenting in the most civil way possible," I say, taking another shot.
"I wish I knew what to say," Travis says to me as he takes his first shot.
"Nothing you can say," I tell him. “I have to accept that this is how it's going to be, and we move on." I take another shot, and this time, I hiss.
Travis sits with me, neither of us saying anything. "Call me if you need me," he says when he gets up. “Even though she's my sister." He looks at me. “You're like a brother to me." I tilt my head to the side. “Fuck, that was gross."
I can't help but chuckle a bit when he turns and walks out, slamming the door behind him. I pick up my phone and press the button to see the screen saver picture of Presley and me. My finger rubs over her face slowly, and I turn off everything, then walk upstairs to bed.
I don't even know how the week goes by. I can't even tell what day it is. But when I get the papers from Damian, I know that I have to make the phone call. I grab my phone, and the whole time, my hands shake as I press the phone icon. I put the cell phone in the middle of my desk before I press the green button next to her name. I don't even know if she is going to answer. All I can hear right now is the beating of my own heart. And then everything stops when I hear her voice. “Hello." Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be.
"Hey," I greet nervously, almost stuttering. “It's me."
"Hi," she says softly.
"Sorry for disturbing you on a workday." My hands rest on my desk around the phone.
"You can call me at any time," she affirms, and all I can do is hang my head.
Block it out, I tell myself. Just say what you need to say and then move on. “I was hoping that we can set up a time to talk." My finger taps on the desk at the same time that my leg starts to move up and down.
"That sounds like a good idea," she says. “Should I come by your place tonight?" No, the right side of my head yells. “Or do you want to come over to mine?" Yes, the left side of my brain says.
"I was thinking that you could come by the office," I say. “No rush, whenever you have time."
"I can be there in thirty minutes," she responds. “Is that too soon?"
"No, that sounds great," I say. “See you then." I don't wait for her to say anything before I press the red button. I lean back in my chair, and I feel like my shirt is shrinking on me. I prepare myself mentally for her arrival. However, there is nothing that will ever prepare me for Presley.
I look up when I hear a knock on the door, and there she stands. She’s wearing dark blue pants that go high on the waist with the same color belt and a white silk shirt tucked in. "Hi." She smiles as she walks in, and even though she's smiling, she looks like she is tired. Everything in me wants to ask her if she's sleeping. But I know I can't ask her that. She made her decision and I have to respect it.
"Hi." I get up from my chair and walk around my desk. “Thanks for coming so quickly." I try to remain calm, but my hands are wet with sweat.
"Of course," she says. “Should I close the door?"
I shake my head. “No." I grab the file on top. “Why don't we sit down in the conference room?" I say to her as I walk to her. “Do you want a water or something?"
"I'm fine," she says, and all I can do is nod at her, motioning with my head to follow me. We walk side by side to the conference room, neither of us saying anything. Pulling open the glass door, I wait for her to walk in.
"This is nice," she says, looking around at the big conference table that seats twenty. I walk over and hold out my hand to her to take a seat. I walk around the table and sit in front of her. “So official." She laughs. Putting the manila folder on the table and opening it, I hand her a copy across the table. “What is this?" she asks me before even reading. Her eyes go down, and then she looks up at me. “Custody agreement."