Baby Come Back (16 page)

             
I had freaked out.  I had screamed and yelled for everyone to get the fuck out of the apartment.  They had scurried out of my way like cockroaches.  I had shut the stereo off and returned to the kitchen to find a very buzzed Nick laughing at my rage.  I had spotted the plastic bag with the rest of his cocaine in it.  I snatched it up and emptied it into the sink, running the faucet to wash it down the drain.

             
That’s when Nick had lost it.  He had gotten up from the table, kicking the kitchen chair out of his way.  He snatched me up and threw me against the wall in the living room.  I remembered how I had slid down it and fell into a heap on the floor.  Nick hadn’t been done with me just yet.  I saw his enraged face as he closed in on me.  I had curled myself into a protective ball, trying to shield my stomach from his flailing fists; his savage kicks to my ribs.  His enraged beating had continued on and on until I had finally passed out.

             
I had awoken the following day in the hospital.  My mother had been at my side, weeping and sniffling.  Nick had been there, too.  He had told my mother that I had fallen down the stairs at our townhouse apartment.  I had suffered a miscarriage as a result.  She had been beside herself; chastising both of us for not telling our parents we had been expecting.  She had insisted I come back to Hoboken so that she could take care of me.  Nick had assured her that he would take off work and care for me.  I had simply remained silent.

             
Nick had kept his promise.  He took several days off from his job and tended to my every need.  He had been extremely apologetic; assuring me that it would never happen again.  He had been to NA meetings on a daily basis to show me just how serious he was about never relapsing again.  He had assured me that he would do anything to make things right between us again.  I had smiled and nodded; I had told him that he was doing all of the right things and that I had faith in him.  I knew that I simply had to bide my time.

             
It had been a little over a week since my ‘accident.’  Nick had gone back to work, instructing me to take it easy and stay in bed until he got home.  After he had left, I got dressed, packed my bags and emptied our emergency cash stash into my purse.  I had called a cab to pick me up.  I went to the bank where I emptied out our joint savings account.  I had figured the bastard owed me. I then took a bus to Philadelphia where I got a job as a waitress.  Two weeks later I met Ian Hatton.  That is when the second chapter of my life had started.

             
I threw the covers off of me and got my Blackberry from the dresser.  It was 7:15.  I called the airlines and had my flight changed.  There was an 11:15 flight out of Newark tonight for Atlanta.  I booked it; then called a cab.  I dressed and packed as if a demon was chasing me; in a way, that’s exactly how I felt.  I didn’t ever have to face Nicholas Camerucci again.  That was my choice to make and I chose not to.

             
I scribbled a hasty note to my mother.  I told her I was sorry; that I would pray for Angie, but that Nick had been a monster to me and that I had no desire to ever set eyes upon him again.  I wrote that this was all she needed to know about our past, and that I would appreciate her never mentioning his name to me again.  I told her I loved her and would call her in a couple of days.

             
I tore the pictures off of my mirror and ripped them into pieces, tossing them into the trash can.  I took my note and placed it on my mother’s pillow.  I heard the cab honking out front.

              It was after three in the morning when I let myself into our apartment.  I quietly made my way to our bedroom.  The door was open.  The dim light from the hallway allowed me to see Tristan asleep on the bed; his one arm was thrown up over his head on the pillow.

             
I discarded my clothing wanting nothing more than to climb up into bed next to him.  I needed to feel him against me.  He looked so gorgeous in the moonlight that filtered in through the blinds.  I was totally naked as I lifted the sheet and crawled in next to him.  He stirred in his sleep as I laid my head on his chest.

             
“Gina?”

             
“Yep.”

             
“You’re back already?”

             
“Yep.”

             
“But I thought the funeral was today.”

             
“It is.  I didn’t want to go.  I have my reasons.”

             
“Anything  you want to talk about?”

             
“Not right now, but I will.  Soon.”

             
“Tristan?”

             
“Yeah babe?”

             
“I love you.”

             
“Right back at you, Gina.”

             
The following week after my return from Hoboken, I shared with Tristan all that had happened between Nick and me.  He had comforted me when I got emotional during parts of it, pulling me close to him and stroking my hair.  Afterwards he asked me if I had ever shared this with anyone else.

             
“You’re the first,” I said.  “I guess part of me was ashamed to tell anyone.  I mean, how pathetic was I to go back to him after I had been through it before?”

             
“Gina - you loved him.  You trusted that he was sincere in getting help for his addiction.  He probably was sincere - at the moment.  I can see how what happened shaped you emotionally where men are concerned.”

             
“What do you mean?” I asked, a hint of defensiveness in my voice.

             
“Babe, don’t get pissed.  Of course it had to affect you.  It was horrific.  I mean, you wouldn’t be human if it hadn’t.  I think it explains why you have trust issues; why you find it difficult to emotionally connect at times; your fear of being vulnerable.”

             
“Well thank you for your diagnosis, Dr. Sinclair,” I replied, rolling my eyes.  “If I doubted that I was damaged goods before, you have so eloquently reaffirmed it.”

             
“You are not damaged goods, Gina.  If you really see yourself that way then perhaps you might consider therapy.”

             
“You are my therapy, Tristan,” I said, scooting onto his lap.  “I want to say something to you about all that shit I brought up about Amber a few days ago.”

             
“I’m listening,” he said, lightly brushing a kiss across my lips.

             
“I trust you, Tristan.  I have never caught you in a lie or any type of deception.  As far as what Ian said; the whole bit with the birthmark - I just want to drop it.  It isn’t important because I trust you and I know you haven’t been with her.”

             
“Are you sure, Gina?  I have no issue confronting her with you present to untangle all of that shit.”

             
“I am sure, Tristan.  She works with Trey.  The last thing I need is to stir something up that causes her to go back whining to him.  He’s your brother and I won’t be responsible for causing any rifts between the two of you, either.”

             
Tristan and I once again settled into a comfortable and stress-free existence.  I kept in touch with my mom, though she did try and get more information from me regarding Nick, she soon learned that I had meant what I said.  She didn’t bring it up after that.

             
Tylar hosted a baby shower for me the Saturday after the July 4
th
holiday.  Susan and Clive were in from Bristol; Aunt Becky had come with them.  My mom had sent her gift and promised she would be coming for a couple weeks after the baby was born.  She had saved some vacation time from her job for the occasion.

             
Susan came over the following day and helped me get all of the tiny little sleepers, gowns and tee shirts laundered and put away.  Tristan was still at the club.  I had noticed his hours had expanded out a bit and had done my share of griping about it.

             
“Have you been feeling well, Gina?”

             
“Oh yes Susan, why?”

             
“You’ve been frowning a lot this weekend I’ve noticed.”

             
I had to smile.  The woman was extremely perceptive.

             
“It’s just this last trimester gets a bit uncomfortable, so I guess I am easily irritated.  Tristan has been spending longer hours at work and we kind of had this deal going when I cut my hours he would cut his hours, too.”

             
“Well, I’m sure it is a busy time what with mid-summer here and the tourists in town.  Would you like a glass of iced tea?”

             
“Oh Susan!  Where are my manners?  I’m sorry. I should have offered you something to drink.”

             
“No worries, dear.  Let’s take a break and I’ll get us each a glass of iced tea.”

             
I loved Tristan’s mother.  She was so laid back and Southern.  I saw where Tristan got it.  We settled on the couch in the living room, sipping our tea.  I had a feeling Susan was on a mission for information.  I didn’t have to wait long for confirmation.

             
“Gina, does Tylar seem alright to you?”

             
“Well, I know this pregnancy has been difficult on her, but actually she looks better than she has.  She hasn’t complained about anything specific to me lately.”

             
“I just worry, I guess.  I was a bit taken aback when I saw her.  It’s been awhile and she just seems so pale and listless.  I hope Trey is making sure that she doesn’t over-do it.”

             
“I’m sure she will be fine.  Have you heard any news recently on Nigel and Tess’s surrogate?”

             
Susan flashed a smile and grabbed her purse.  She rifled through it until she found the ultrasound photo that Tess had sent to her.  We had a couple of those around here as well.  This one was in  3D.  I could make out the little face.  Mine were not so high tech.  I stared and stared at them trying to make out what was what.  Tristan had to point it out for me.

             
“Do they know the sex of the baby?” I asked.

             
“They want to be surprised,” Susan answered, beaming.  “Of course, Clive and I are tickled that we will be welcoming our first grandson here shortly.  Have you and Tristan decided on any names yet?”

             
“Well, I like ‘Tristan James II,’ but Tristan has said ‘no way.’  I thought we could call him ‘TJ’ - but he’s not giving in on that one.  We both kind of like the name ‘Reese.”

             
“Oh, I love it,” Susan squealed happily.  “What about a middle name?”

             
“I like ‘Joseph’ and Tristan likes ‘Patrick,’ so I guess it will probably be ‘Patrick.”

             
Susan laughed.  “Stand your ground with him, Gina.  Don’t let him always have his way.”

             
“Trust me, Susan, I don’t”

              By the time Tristan got home, Susan had already left to go back to Trey and Tylar’s house.

             
“You missed your mother by about three hours,” I said to him.

             
“Oh sorry, babe.  Things were crazy at the club.”

             
“You know Tristan, your hours seem to be getting right back to where they were before you hired the night manager.  If I was the suspicious type - “

             
He came over and gave me a hug, silencing my whining with his lips.

             
“Is the baby napping?” he asked

             
“Yeah, I think so.  He’s been fairly quiet today.”

             
“How about you and I go into the bedroom and wake him up?”

             
I couldn’t resist Tristan or his lovemaking.  We spent the next hour in bed playing and loving.  I curled up next to him afterwards, running my fingers through the damp hair on his chest.

             
“Tristan?”

             
“Yeah, babe?”

             
“Your mom showed me one of those 3D ultrasound pictures today of Nigel and Tess’s baby.  You could see its little face and everything.”

             
“You mean they don’t know whether it’s a girl or a boy?”

             
“They don’t want to know.  I think it’s a boy, though.”

             
“And how were you able to determine that?”

             
“Cause his little face looks like yours.”