A key turns in the lock. “Did I mention Loverboy snaked my keys?”
“So damn overbearing.” I huff.
“Get used to that. With the pregnancy, it’s only going to get worse.”
“Oh Joy,” I whine with mock enthusiasm.
“Hey, you up?”
His gravelly voice makes my belly flip like a pancake.
“We’re in the living room,” Blue calls out. She holds out her hand. “Can I get my keys back?”
“Yeah, I made copies,” Skull replies with a smirk. Stubble covers his chin and sunglasses hide his dark brown gaze.
“Rough night?” I ask. I know his hangover façade by now.
“Interesting night, rough morning.”
I smirk. “Then you know how I feel.”
He grimaces and pats his stomach. “That I do.”
Blue stands. “You don’t need me here. I’ll check in with you later, yeah?”
“I’ll call you,” I say.
Skull plops down on the loveseat beside me, crowding me. “Are you good to talk right now? I see you have crackers.”
“Just par for the course. I’ll make an appointment first thing Monday morning.” I clear my throat keeping Blue’s words in mind. I need to give him a chance to explain. “You want to tell me what happened last night?”
He perches on the edge of the couch and leans down placing his elbows on his thighs. “Mental illness runs in my family. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids because it’s hereditary. It’s one of the things I planned on talking with you about, and then I saw the test.”
I cover my mouth. “I- I had no idea, Tritt. I’m sorry.”
“It’s my own fault for not telling you sooner. It’s not something I like to talk about.”
“Can I ask what?”
“If anyone has the right to ask me now, it’s you…Schizophrenia.”
“That’s why?” I whisper as the puzzle pieces lock together.
“I’m ashamed that I added this to your genepool. You’re amazing, Ruthie. I know I never deserved you and now if you do this, you’re linked with me and my shitty DNA for the rest of our lives.”
“Tritt, don’t talk about yourself like that.”
“Why? It’s the truth. I’m calling it how I see it. I didn’t want to infect you. Now you want to pass it on.”
“What if he or she isn’t affected by it?” I ask, challenging his train of thought.
“Then we dodge a bullet and have to worry about their children, and their children’s children.”
“All you see is the possibility of mental illness, not the child. A little boy or girl who looks like me and you. A tiny being dependent on us for survival.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”