He grabs my wrist as I reach for his boxers. “I never wanted to get married.”
This is not news to me. Neither one of us ever wanted marriage and babies, but now that we’re here, his words cut like a knife. “I know.”
“No. You’re not hearing me.” Gabe shakes his head. I never wanted marriage or kids. I never even wanted to really share my life with someone, Annie was just ... I don’t know. Annie just happened because she made it happen. She hung around, started calling me her boyfriend. I didn’t love her. I didn’t love anyone. I didn’t know I was even capable of it. My parents fucked me up, Lo. I didn’t know what love meant. And there you were in Tahoe, outside Valhalla, lookin’ up at me with those come-fuck-me eyes. The same eyes I’d looked at every day since we met, and I don’t know ... I was fucking cuntstruck. I kissed you, and I knew right then and there, that I’d marry you someday.”
I give a half smile. “Is it everything you dreamed of?”
“It is, and I’m still fuckin’ it up, because it’s what I do. It’s what they taught me to do.”
“Then don’t. Their mistakes aren’t yours, Gabe. We aren’t our parents. We’re never going to be our parents. This baby is lucky. He has parents who came from big houses without love. We don’t have to pass on that hand-me-down bullshit to our kid. We’re not them. We live in a little house full to bursting with love and laughter. So quit trying to sabotage this before we’ve even really begun.”
“I don’t deserve you, Lo. I never have.”
“Bullshit. We all deserve love, Gabe. But you have to stop drinking so you can deserve to be our baby’s dad.”
“I know,” he slurs and wraps his arm around me. “I will, I swear.”
I squeeze my eyes tightly closed to prevent the tears from spilling down my cheeks, and I wait for him to fall asleep. Within minutes, he’s snoring against his pillow. I creep from the bedand head to the kitchen to gather supplies, then I clean up the mess Gabe made on our living room floor and pray this isn’t a sign of things to come.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Gabe
One month later
Istumble into the house and toss my keys at the bowl on the entry table. They clang as they fall to the floor and I wince, knowing it will wake Lo. I stand in the doorway, contemplating leaving again before she comes out to tear me a new asshole, but when I don’t hear any movement from the bedroom, I quietly close the door and head to the fridge. My stomach growls as I stare at the contents and thank fuck that my wife is an exceptional cook and loves me enough to save my dinner and not throw it in the trash.
I peel back the plastic wrap and shovel forkfuls of spicy red rice in my mouth, barely chewing before I’m swallowing and loading in more.So fucking good.
I should have been here tonight, but after all the heaviness and the shit of the last few weeks, I just needed to blow off steam with the boys. A pang of guilt sucker punches me in the gut. Lo hasn’t had a chance to blow off steam either. She can’t drink or smoke away her worries like I can, because even though my kid’s trying to kill her, she’s desperate to save him, and I’m just holding on.
I cover the food and put it back in the refrigerator, then I wash my hands and walk into the lounge. Lo is sprawled on the floor of the living room, her body still.Too still.
“Jesus, Lo! Baby?” I hurdle across the coffee table and tap her cheeks. “Baby, wake up.”
Vomit sticks to her hair, and she’s not breathing. “Christ.”
I fumble in my pocket, dial 911, and put it on speakerphone. Lo made me sign up for that stupid first-aid course for when the baby comes, but I can’t remember what the hell to do first.I close my eyes, trying to visualize the dingy classroom and all those plastic infant dummies.Knuckles. I make a fist and rub my knuckles in the center of her chest.Nothing. No response. I tilt her head back and open her mouth, holding my phone up and shining the light inside to check for obstructions.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“My wife. She’s not breathing.”
“Okay, sir,” the operator says. “Can I have your name?”
“It’s Gabe.”
“Alright, Gabe. Where is your wife now?”
“On the floor in our living room. I just came home and found her on the floor. I can’t remember if it’s twenty or thirty compressions to every breath.”
“It’s thirty, but let’s make sure she’s ready before you begin performing CPR. Can you turn her on her back and check her airways for any obstructions?”
“I already did.”
“Okay great. You’re going to angle her head so that her airway is open. Make sure there are no pillows behind her.”
“There’s no pillow.”