Chapter 20
Presley
"This is nice." I look around the conference room, holding my purse in front of me, feeling my whole body slowly shaking with nerves. He holds out his hand for me to take a seat, and I can't help but laugh nervously as I pull out one of the chairs. “So official." I look over at the other side of the table, watching him pull out his own chair. When I saw his name on the caller ID, I dropped the plate of fruit I was eating on my lap. It's been the longest days without him in them. Then seeing him, it just finally put me at ease with just one look at him. He opens the manila folder in front of him and hands me the white papers with black writing on it. “What is this?" I ask him, and my eyes go down to the paper in front of me. My eyes go straight to two words. "Custody agreement." My eyes fly up to his, the shock running through me right now. This was the last thing that I thought he wanted to talk to me about. I thought we would sit down and hash out what happened. I thought I would be able to apologize for not calling him. I thought he would take me in his arms and hug me, but instead, it's my worst nightmare.
"Not a custody agreement." He holds up his hand to stop me from talking.
"Does this not read custody agreement?" I point at the words. My stomach flies to my throat, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. The back of my neck is tingling, and I feel suddenly hot. I went from feeling sad to anger to I don't even know how to explain it. Out of control.
"What I wanted to do is get everything down on paper so we can figure out what we will do," he says, and I can see his hand shaking. “Just so we are both covered, and neither of us is surprised by anything."
"I mean…" I put down the paper in front of me. “It's us, so I was just assuming that we would talk about things."
"And this is what we are doing," he confirms, and he looks down at the paper. “I just want to make sure that I have..."
"I will never, ever keep the baby from you,” I assure him, and when he looks up at me, I see the worry in his eyes. “Bennett, you are the father of the baby." My mouth gets dry, and my nose starts to sting. “We are going to split custody fifty-fifty." I swallow the lump in my throat, saying the words. I knew that this was going to come. I mean, I even told myself that this is how it had to be. But then actually saying them out loud is another thing. I already was so in love with our child that I couldn't explain it, so the thought of not being there every day with him or her is a lot harder than I expected it to be.
"Which is why I think we should get things in writing so everything is out there." His finger starts to tap on the table, and I know that he's nervous.
"Sure," I say, looking back down at the papers in my hand.
"We can go through the points that I have," he says, and my eyes fly up to see him looking down at his own papers. When I walked out of the hospital room, I expected him to drive me home, but he left me with Clarabella. I had to bite my tongue on my way to keep from calling out to him. "I would like to be there for every doctor's appointment."
"Of course." It comes out harsher than I want it to be. “I would assume you would have been there anyway." My voice goes soft.
"I will take care of all medical bills that have to do with the baby," he states, and I shake my head.
"No," I say. “If there are any medical bills, it's split fifty-fifty."
He leans over and takes a pen out of the basket in the middle of the table to make notes on his paper. "Okay, I will change that." I can see him look at me, and I ignore the need to look up at him. "Have you decided if you are going to breastfeed or bottle feed?"
"I haven't given it any thought, to be honest." I look at him, and being here with him in this room is almost too much for me. “I'm assuming I'm going to breastfeed." I want to ask him if he is going to be taking my breast also, but I don't.
"If you decide to breastfeed, would you be open to pumping your milk so I can have some at my house?" He looks at me, and at this point, I just nod at him. "Great," he says, smiling at me, but I just look down.
I don't even know what else is discussed because, at this point, my head has shut it out. I push away from the table at the end of it. “Draft it up." I grab my purse and put the paper inside it. “And then I'll have my lawyer look at it." I nod at him, not saying another word because I have a feeling that the next words that come out of my mouth are not going to be good at all.
"I'll walk you out," he says, and I just shake my head.
"I'm fine." I turn to walk out of the room before he even has a chance to say anything else. I walk down the hallway with my head held high, even though it feels like I have a thousand pounds on my shoulders pushing me down. I keep it together the whole time even when I get in the car. I don't call anyone. I don't say anything. I'm just numb, and when I get home, I'm happy no one is there with me.
When I got home from the hospital, I expected to find my house pitch black, but instead, Shelby was there sitting on the porch steps waiting for us. She didn't really say much; neither of them did. They just made sure I was okay. They both spent the night, and the next day when I got up, I half expected to see a message from Bennett. But there was nothing. We had a meeting on my couch, and I didn't even fight them when they told me that I should just stay off my feet for a couple of days. I would do all the work from home. The only thing that I wouldn't be able to do is meet with potential clients. Every night one of them would come and stay with me, but I will be calling them as soon as I can speak without breaking down to tell them I would like to be alone.
I walk into the house, dumping my purse on the table, and head straight to my bedroom. I undress right after I start the shower. All I can hear in my head is his voice. All that I've been hearing in my head are the words I love you. Over and over again, day and night, it's always there.
Stopping to look in the mirror, I see the little bump that just started to form. If I didn't know that I was pregnant, I would think that I just overate. I put my hand on my stomach, something that I do all the time now. I step into the shower and put my face back, walking under the stream of the water. Only when I'm under the water do I let out the first sob. It rips through me like a lightning bolt. Stepping back, I put my hands over my face as I cry out. This right here is what I was afraid of all this time. This pain in my chest, and has been since he told me he loved me, is a pain that I can't even put into words. I want to say it's like a stabbing pain over and over, but it doesn't do it justice. Every single time my heart beats, it feels like another piece is cut off.
Getting out of the shower, I wipe my face, but the tears don't stop. Nothing will stop it, and I crawl into bed. Placing my head on the pillow and holding my stomach while I cry, this right here is what I was afraid of.
This right here is what I was avoiding this whole fucking time. The pain that I fought so hard not to feel, yet here I am, broken-hearted. I have no idea what to do or how to fix this.
Every single day, I get up and get out of bed, but I do it for the baby. I eat only because I know that the baby needs it. I go online every day to read everything it has on the baby at this stage. My whole world now revolves around this little baby who is my whole life. A baby who was conceived with love. A baby who will forever be a part of me and a part of Bennett. A baby who is now the only reason he wants to talk to me.
The room slowly gets dark, and even though I texted my sisters hours ago telling them not to come over tonight and that I was fine, I hear the front door open. "Baby momma," Clarabella calls out, and then I hear her feet coming closer and closer to my bedroom. "Are you sick?” she asks from the doorway. “Is it the baby?"
"I'm fine." I don't bother lifting my head, but I also don't bother hiding my face.
She sits on the bed next to me. “What's the matter?"
Everything, I almost say out loud. The fact that I love a man and can't tell him. The fact that I'm petrified of telling him with the notion that he'll leave me. The fact that even though I said that I had to leave him, actually doing it is killing my soul. But instead, I lie and try to tell myself that this is how it's supposed to be. "Nothing," I lie, and as I say it, the tears just continue to pour out. "I'll be fine," I whisper, hoping that tomorrow is a better day.