Authors: Kylee Parker
“I’m fine,” she called back shakily. “Just relax!”
Chapter Five
Leda
“I’m fine!” I yelled back, stamping my foot on the bathroom floor. I wasn’t fine. Everything was a disaster.
I’d hidden the lingerie bag in the bathroom, with plans to surprise Stratton. At first I thought he was going to go out by himself and give me time to get ready, but that didn’t work.
I stared at myself in the mirror. The burn from the curling iron was glaring red-hot on my forehead and starting to ooze pus. I winced as I pulled strands of hair out of the wound. When I’d burned myself, I’d dropped the iron on my chest, burning a hole in the corset. The pain had made me jump back and I’d ripped the lace on the robe; it had caught on the bathroom cabinet and created a huge tear. Plus one of my eyes was bloodshot and watery from stabbing myself with a mascara wand.
Being sexy with pulled muscles all over your body is harder than it looks. On top of everything, I was starving. I’d ordered the same meal as last night—steak and potatoes—with a side of mac and cheese and a salad. The delivery guy had come over thirty minutes ago and my stomach was rumbling so hard that I thought I was going to throw up.
In desperation, I looked at the clock. It was only nine. There was no way Stratton would sleep for hours. I was freezing and hungry in the bathroom, and I felt weird about staying inside for so long. Every tweak of my nerves was exacerbated by the thoughts running through my head. What if I was pregnant? What was I going to do?
Based on the conversation I’d had with Stratton that day, I felt like probably nothing. It made me want to cry as I imagined Megan taking me to the clinic and holding my hand. Irrationally, I was angry with Stratton even though I knew he hadn’t done anything. Well, anything but hold up his end of the bargain.
Finally, my stomach grumbled so loudly that I clapped my hands over my ears.
“Don’t laugh!” I called out.
“What?”
“Don’t laugh,” I repeated loudly.
“Okay,” Stratton said in a weird tone through the door. “Just come out, Leda. You’re really freaking me out.”
Steeling my nerves, I closed my eyes and opened the door.
“Wow,” Stratton said. “You look great.”
My eyes filled with tears and I clapped my hand over my forehead, forgetting about the burn. I winced as my hand ruptured the developing blister. “No I don’t,” I muttered. “I fucked everything up.”
“Hey, relax,” Stratton said in a soothing voice. He stepped closer and put his fingers under my chin, tilting my head up. “You look great, Leda.” He leaned in and inspected my burn. “I didn’t even notice that at first,” he said quietly. “It was hard to tell when the rest of you was wearing
this
.”
I blushed and looked away. “I’m sorry,” I whispered hoarsely. “I freaked out when I burned myself and I didn’t want to come out.”
Stratton laughed. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. “Let’s just eat out dinner and go to sleep, okay?”
I nodded, still unable to meet his eyes. Stratton helped me undress. When I was naked, he walked over with a big t-shirt of his. “Put this on,” he said, averting his eyes. I blushed anyway. “It’s probably more comfortable than that.”
I slipped it over my head. When I was dressed, I sat on the bed next to Stratton and dug into my food. Without asking what I wanted to do, he put on a movie and we sat quietly, watching and eating until it was over. It was an odd, comfortable lull. The kind of thing I felt with Matthew once things had cooled down. But unlike then, this didn’t feel particularly bad. Instead it felt…comfortable.
That night, Stratton fell asleep with his arm around my waist. I stayed up thinking and worrying the whole night. What was I going to do?
In the morning, everything felt too rushed. We’d packed up the night before, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was forgetting something. I’d had weird dreams all night – not exactly nightmares, but close enough, and in the cold light of dawn, I was starting to have a really bad feeling about going home.
Stratton was whistling as he pulled his pants on. When I glanced at him, he stayed oblivious for a few seconds. I had to call his name to get him to turn around.
“You okay?” He flashed me a smile. “Ready to go home?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly,” I mumbled. But he’d already turned back around and focused his attention on his open suitcase.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” I sighed. “Did you get all of your stuff from the bathroom?”
As luck would have it, our plane was delayed, but we didn’t find out until we were already at the airport. I was in a pissy mood; my period was almost a week late, I was still starving, and my legs were killing me. Plus, the idea of going back home was weighing heavily on me. I loved the intimacy that we’d created over the trip. Knowing that it would all be gone when we were back at home was a crushing blow.
“What’s with you?” Stratton asked, once we were finally settled on the plane. “You’ve been so moody this morning.”
“Sorry,” I said, sighing and raking a hand through my hair. “I’m just stressed about going home, that’s all.”
Stratton narrowed his eyes at me. “Everything will be fine,” he said, sounding strained. “Just try not to let little things bother you, okay?”
I slumped down in my seat and pressed my forehead against the glass. Even through the double layers of plexiglass, it still felt cold. The sensation was a welcome relief; I’d been uncomfortably overwarm since leaving the hotel.
Little things?
A voice echoed in the back of my mind.
Is that all he thought they were?
Even though I knew that in my rational mind we weren’t ready for a baby, part of me wanted it to be true. Part of me wished desperately that I was pregnant. I imagined Stratton and I as new parents: stressed, tired, frumpy…but incredibly in love, and desperately happy together. I imagined that we could have the same kind of intimacy that we’d created on the trip together. Only better, because there would be a baby.
I wrinkled my nose. What the hell was happening to me? I didn’t even
like
babies. Part of me had always thought that I’d never have children. It was something that put me at odds with almost everyone else; I always felt cold for not loving kids. When Judith had been a baby, I’d hated her. She’d been a mass of pink wriggly flesh, screaming and shouting and wailing at all hours of the night. Our parents had decided to just let her “cry it out” which only meant that as she bawled and shrieked, the rest of us had to lie awake and listen to her. There were times when I went into her room and begged her to stop making noise. Mom always thought I was being dramatic, but I’d felt a panic being around my sister as a baby. Plus, the physical weakness of her was terrifying. What if someone dropped her? She seemed so fragile, and yet so sluggish, like a human worm. Every time I worried about hurting that soft spot on her head, another part of me was irritated because she was so fat and heavy to lug around.
No, I definitely didn’t think I would be a great mother. But when I thought about babies with Stratton, I didn’t think of my horrible sister as an infant. I saw a cute, smiling baby with Stratton’s green eyes and my dark fringe for hair. I saw us cuddling in front of a fireplace and rocking the baby to sleep before setting it down in a crib and making love in front of the fire. I imagined myself taking pictures of Stratton trying to feed the baby and laughing when he was covered in spit-up. It was strangely adorable.
I managed to doze off during the flight and woke up groggily to Stratton shaking my shoulder. There were flashing lights and beeping noises outside and I felt disoriented and badly in need of a shower. The suffocating air from the plane was starting to make me feel claustrophobic; no matter how cold it was outside, I closed my eyes and imagined running through the air without a coat on.
“Are you okay?” Stratton looked at me with concern. “You were making a lot of noises in your sleep.”
I nodded, brushing my sweaty hair away from my forehead. “I’m fine,” I said, after a beat. “Just tired.”
As the shuttle bus pulled us through the streets of Charlottesville, it didn’t seem like we’d been away for a few days. It only seemed like I’d been gone for hours. And yet it felt like a lot had changed. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to look at Stratton in the same way, at least not for a long time. When I checked the calendar on my phone, I saw that tomorrow was Megan’s bachelorette party. It was embarrassing knowing that I hadn’t helped her out as much as I could have; I felt like a bad friend. But that was nothing new, especially as of late.
Stratton and I didn’t talk for most of the ride home. Whenever I asked him something, he’d grunt in return. After a while I just looked out the window and thought about the trip. Already, it seemed like it had been years ago.
Stratton helped me carry my suitcase up the stairs. When we were in front of the door, he looked at me. “Back to normal,” he said, grinning at me. I looked away. Stratton fumbled with the keys and the door swung open. But when I looked back at his face, he wasn’t grinning anymore. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Stratton,” I heard a female voice say. “I’m so glad you’re home!”
The door swung all the way open and a petite, gorgeous blonde looked up at me through long lashes. “Hello,” she said with a polite smirk on her face. “I’m Miriam.”
Chapter Six
Leda
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Stratton said. He glared at Miriam and threw his hands up in the air. “What the fuck is this? Did my mother send you?”
“Stratton,” Miriam said in a soft tone. She reached out for his arm but he batted her touch away. “It’s me. Aren’t you happy?”
Stratton stared at her and I felt my heart sink. Already it was like he’d forgotten that I was even in the room. I felt our vacation melting away in a matter of seconds.
“No,” he said slowly. “No, I’m not really happy about this, Miriam. I can’t see you anymore, I told you that. We’re over.”
She bit her lip, managing to somehow look both beautiful and pissed off. “That was a lie,” she said calmly. “You were just telling me to make me want you more, Stratton. I know how you work.”
Stratton shook his head. “You’re delusional,” he told her. “Come on. I’m calling a cab and you’re going back to the airport.”
“No!” Miriam cried. Her voice echoed off the walls of the foyer. “No, I’m not leaving. Not until we talk. And it’s late. I won’t be able to get a flight back until the morning.”
“Then you can stay at the airport,” I cut in. “I’ll drive you. Come on.”
Miriam looked at me and laughed. It was a sound like the tinkling of bells. “Who are you?” She asked in that musical voice of hers. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” I hissed. “The more important question is what are
you
doing here?”
Miriam rolled her eyes. She turned back to Stratton and put one of her dainty little hands on his chest. I wanted to smack it off, and I had to fight the urge to actually push her away.
“Stratton,” she said in a soft voice. “Let me just talk to you, okay? Like old times. We just need to talk.”