“Trying to get rid of me?” Sol teases.
“No, you can stay here however long you want. This place is so big but empty. I’ve debated selling it, but Grant says its value will only go up with time and it would be stupid to do so.”
“I really can’t stand that asshole.”
“Makes two of us.”
“There’s something else.” Sol puts her hand over mine, pulling my fingers apart that I’m wringing together. “As your best friend, it’s hurting my feelings that you're keeping whatever it is from me.”
“There’s a baby clause,” I blurt out, no longer able to hold it in. Sol’s eyes widen.
“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“If what you think I’m saying is that I have to have a baby, then the answer is yes.” She stares at me in shock for a long moment. I’m sure that’s exactly how I looked at the reading of my parents’ will.
“Okay, that’s not so crazy. I mean, you’ve never talked about wanting kids, but the fact that you’ve been leaning toward early childhood development as your major is kind of a clue-in.”
“I do,” I admit. “But I didn’t want it this way. I love my parents, but they weren’t the best at reciprocating that love. Or showing it. I’ve always dreamed of a family of my own but not like this. When I see you and Leo together, it makes my heart ache. The love you two have for each other is unconditional. I want that.”
“Then you can have that.” She squeezes my hand. I know, but it’s not the way I dreamed of it happening. Even from the grave, my father still wields control over me.
“I actually went in for a consultation about finding a donor. The woman looked at me like I was nuts. I think if not for my last name I would have been told a big fat no.”
“Your dad really tried to cover the bases to make sure you got married for real.”
“Yeah, because you know a woman could never do what he did. Maybe he’s right because I don’t want to do what he did.”
“Asshole,” she mutters. “Shit. Too soon?”
“No.” I laugh. Sol lets out another yawn. “Watch your reality TV and get some rest.” I give her a hug before I slip from the room to let her sleep.
Unable to help myself, I peek to see if Leo has come back home, but he hasn’t. I go back up to my room and shower and change before I finish up a paper for school. It’s past midnight by the time I’m done.
My stomach growls, and I realize I didn’t eat dinner. I grab the pamphlets and paperwork the doctor gave me before I head down to the kitchen. I find myself stopping to check on Sol but know that part of the reason is because I want to know if Leo is home yet. He isn’t.
Is he out on a date? It’s the first thing that comes to mind. My stomach turns. I never thought about him still seeing other women. I know he never brings any home, according to Sol. I’m sure it’s because she’s there.
I grab the tray from Sol’s room and take it to the kitchen. I’m no longer hungry. My mind is too focused on Leo being out with some woman tonight. I lay the papers out on the counter to try to read them over while I wait for the water for my tea to heat up. I try to focus on them, but I can’t.
Did he take her out to a movie or dinner? I can’t help but wonder if he’s being sweet to her. My thoughts are running a mile a minute with all of these questions. Leo is always so sweet to Sol. I bet if he was really into a girl, he'd be a sweetheart to her. He might look all badass, but when it comes to Sol, he is a marshmallow. Sometimes I find myself jealous of that too. It’s terrible of me.
I hear the ding come from the front door opening as my tea kettle starts to go off. I hurry and take it off the heat. I sense Leo before I see him. I peek over my shoulder to see him looming in the doorway to the kitchen. He’s got his hood up.
“Evening,” I say, turning my attention back to making my tea. I want to flee. Leo only grunts a response. My irritation starts to grow. Why does he always have to be so freaking rude to me? I try to focus on the anger so tired of the sadness. “Did you have a good night?” I try again, wanting to be civil.
“Got what I went out for.” I close my eyes, thankful my back is to him. I’m guessing he means sex. Why else is he slipping in at almost one in the morning? Work, my ass. Unless that’s what they’re calling booty calls these days.