“Are you happy with him?”
She blinks, the seriousness in my tone unmistakable. “I…what? Why are you asking me?”
“Because…” I trail off.
She frowns and won’t meet my eyes. “He’s the father of my baby.”
“Does he make you happy?”
“That’s not important.”
“Isn’t it?”
Dragging shaking fingers through her hair she says, “I can’t be seen with you. Please, Tonk.”
Of course I stop walking.
I know something is up with this guy now. And I hate seeing her afraid.
She apologizes and I reassure her with a soothing voice, “It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Beautiful eyes lock onto me as I ask, “Walk with me again tomorrow? Just a walk. Just friends. I’ll be at the faun and bear sculpture in the park at 3:30 PM. Same time you were by my place today, so it’s not far if this is the route you like to take with Celia. In fact I’ll make it 3:15. I would like to be your friend. In fact, I’ll be there every day until you show up—how about that?”
She stares at me a moment, her expression unreadable. Continuing to her home, I watch for a moment before heading back to mine so I don’t get her in trouble.
When I said just friends, I may have lied to my future wife. Not exactly the best way to start a relationship.
CHAPTER 5
STACY
Hairs float on the back of my neck as his key turns in the lock. I hurry to bring Celia to her crib, removing the bottle from her mouth and hoping to God she doesn’t cry. She won’t latch onto my nipple no matter how hard I try, and she has to eat. Does he want her to starve? I use a breast pump and save the milk in a bottle for her. He thinks it’s cold and wrong.
Tucking the nearly empty bottle behind our bed, I make a mental note to rescue it before it starts to smell. Last time he almost caught on to what I’ve been doing, after I’d forgotten to retrieve one before it expired. He complained about the odor and I took the blame, saying it was my socks. He slapped me and called me a dirty whore. “Why don’t you bathe and clean up your filth?”
It could have been worse, so I didn’t mind that much.
“Stacy, where you at? You better be home. I had a shit day at work and if I find you out with –“
I force a smile and jump into the hallway so that he can see me, walking quickly to him as I say, “I’m right here, baby. I didn’t hear you come in.” Adjusting my bra I flick a glance back to our bedroom. “I was just feeding Celia. I guess I got sleepy. It makes me really drowsy, you know that.” My laugh doesn’t sound too nervous as I gauge his reaction. I’ve gotten pretty good at faking laughter. “What happened at work? Tell me about it.”
He fists my hair, tugging my head to the side so deep I have to bend at the waist. “You think I can’t handle my own shit? I don’t need your help. Why would I tell you? You think I’m dumb just because I didn’t go to college like you did?”
“I think you’re the smartest man that I know,” I sputter, fear’s bile rising in my throat. His intelligence is always the trigger. “I asked because I knew you’d found a smart way to handle what had happened! I wanted to hear about that!”
When I met Vic, he was so impressed with the fact that I’d gotten in on a scholarship, full ride. All I had to pay for was housing and food. He said, “Even your textbooks are covered?” and I saw a glitter of something behind his eyes but wrote it off as surprise, not jealousy or inadequacy.
He used to really brag about that to his friends before we started living together. But he didn’t go to college. He didn’t even finish high school. It was a sore spot and I felt for him. And while a lot of people get away with that, his wasn’t because he didn’t like school. It was because of his temper. Something I didn’t find out about until he gave me a key and I’d already unpacked.
“What’s there to eat?” He releases my head with a shove sending me reeling and grabbing onto the couch so that I don’t fall. “I’m starving.”
Shit, something really happened to him today. He hasn’t been in a mood this bad in a while.
“I…uh…bought us some sandwiches from the deli on the corner today. Just like you asked me to.”
He stalks into the kitchen muttering under his breath, “Good. I need to eat.”
Calming my breath so as not to antagonize him further, I follow him into our small kitchen. It’s not big enough for a dining set. We usually eat standing up next to the counter. He opens the refrigerator and just like all the other times, does not see the extra bottle I have hidden in a container of decaf tea I keep in there. It’s one of those old tin cans they’ve brought back because it’s a retro and cool product design. For me it’s the perfect place to hide things because Victor hates tea and he thinks decaf is absolutely useless in any form.
Dragging the paper bag across chilled, wire shelving, he slams the door, and plants dinner on the counter in front of me so fast I jump.
“How was your day?” he asks, tearing it open.
Shrugging I smile, “Uneventful. I walked to the store to get this for you and then came back home. I’ve just been spending time with Celia. We watched a couple talkshows.”
“Anything interesting?” He mutters as he unwraps roast beef and sharp cheddar. Taking a huge bite he waits for me to hang myself. I know he’s curious if they talked about anger issues, domestic violence, leaving
