“Honey, that is wonderful, but your Aunt V is getting older,” Marilyn said softly.
Anxiety surged in my gut at the truth in her words. I’d never thought of my aunt as being old. In my head, she was this fabulous, ageless creature thanks to her spunk, her energy, her personality. But she was getting older. As much as the thought sickened me, she wasn’t going to be around forever. Eventually, I would be alone.
“It’s not up for discussion,” I declared finally.
A crease formed between Marilyn’s brows. She was not on board with this plan, obviously. But she was not going to change my mind. She had a wonderful husband who loved her more than life and would lasso the moon then yank it down to Earth if that’s what she asked for.
As empathetic and wonderful as she was, she couldn’t possibly understand the turmoil I was going through right now.
“What are you going to do when this kid gets old enough to ask about his father?” she demanded.
“I don’t know!” I screamed, throwing down a handful of nightgowns that wouldn’t fit very soon. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do then. I don’t know what I’m going to do when I stare into his eyes on our baby, because we know that his genes are super dominant, so mine won’t stand a chance. I don’t know how I’m going to raise him or her without his presence.” I sank down on my bed, suddenly unable to support my own weight, suddenly unable to hold it together for a moment longer.
The tears had started coming, and they did not stop. Not for a second. It was a fucking flood of all the emotions I’d been trying to hold in for the past three months. It had taken a Herculean effort, not shedding a single tear during the most painful breakup of my life. It had also taken countless batches of cookies, dozens of cakes, muffins and brownies. It had taken two-hour walks with Sirius. Many, many glasses of wine. Arguably more shots of tequila. Daily spinning classes with Marilyn.
Then it had taken a positive pregnancy test, meaning the wine and the tequila had to stop. After that, there was no time for tears, there was only time for plans. For action.
“Honey,” Marilyn cooed, sitting down beside me on the bed before pulling me into her arms. She smelled of Tom Ford perfume which upset my stomach just a little since morning sickness was a bitch, but I needed it. The loving embrace of my strong, kind friend. A hug that didn’t make my skin crawl. Because of Hades.
“I know I’m making a huge fucking mistake,” I sobbed. “This place is the only place I’ve ever felt at home. You’re my family. I’m going to miss you so much.” The tears descended faster than Marilyn could wipe them away.
“Baby, we’ll visit. Often. You know you won’t be able to keep Jed away. And we’re doing our surrogate thing next year which means I’ll be moving in with you so I don’t accidently kill our child. You’ll be an old pro by then.” She winked, uncharacteristic moisture in her eyes.
I fought to control my own tears, but now that the floodgates had opened, it felt impossible to close them. It felt impossible to leave my friends, this house, this town.
Him.
I hadn’t seen him. Not once.
Not at Fate, where I’d stopped dancing when I found out I was pregnant. Not that I had anything against mothers who continued to work when pregnant.
Those two lines turned my world upside down. Those two lines represented the end of a long and significant chapter of my life. One that had been good to me but one that needed to be over. Honestly, I’d been waiting for a solid reason to retire for a long time. A baby was a pretty fucking solid reason.
When I met Hades, I’d thought—I’d hoped—my life would look different than this. But that’s not the way life worked. And I was lucky. I had friends all over the country. And I was financially free.
“I’ll come here every week,” Marilyn assured me, stroking my hair. “To check up on the place, or to escape from Jed if he’s making something that’s not in my meal plan for the week.” She winked.
I smiled weakly. Although some would say it wasn’t fiscally responsible, I hadn’t sold this house. Hadn’t rented it out either. But I could easily swing the mortgage payments along with the rent on the place I’d gotten for me and Aunt V in Falcon Springs.
There was no way I could possibly leave this place in my rearview mirror completely. Not with the roots I’d grown here. Not with the memories stained into the foundation like blood. Not with the fucking blood that had literally been spilled in it. No, I couldn’t sell it any sooner than I could sell a piece of my soul.