The Trouble With Before (12 page)

IT’S NOT SURPRISING
that a little after Aidan stormed off to shower and Hillary followed him, an argument ensued. Even less surprising is that soon after that that, they made up—very loudly. At least I was able to drown that out by taking my own shower.

Hillary yelled an obligatory good-bye as I changed clothes, and I did the same. Aidan told me he’d be back in about thirty minutes, so after they left, I searched the house for Aidan’s iPhone charger to give my phone some juice. I’m not expecting anyone to try to reach me though. I still haven’t heard from Brett since the day everything unfolded, my mom doesn’t have this number—not that she’d call me anyway—and the only person who I can call a friend is letting me stay in his house. So I’m surprised when I see a text message alert at the top of my phone screen. It’s from Stephanie.

Hey Hun. I hope you’re ok. Not sure what’s going on but wanted to check on you.

I can’t help but feel a sad smile spread across my face. Stephanie’s worried about me. I wonder if Brett’s said anything to her. Probably not. Brett probably just told her I went back home. That’d be enough for Stephanie to drop it. She’s not pushy at all.

I start to text back, but then I wonder if Brett put her up to this, if he secretly wants to keep tabs on me through Stephanie. It’s not that I don’t want Brett to know I’m alive and okay, but he could at least be a man about it and call me himself. I exit out of the text screen and lie back on the couch.

My stomach is growling. I rub my fingers across it, still in disbelief that there’s a baby growing inside it. A second baby I’m not prepared or ready for. Can I go through another pregnancy? Could I go through with an abortion? I’m still not ready to be a mother, but this time, things are different. If I do have the baby, could I just hand it off to a stranger? There’s no one waiting in the wings to swoop in and save the day like my aunt Danni did. I fold my legs and scrunch my knees against my stomach. God, I bet she’s in heaven and wanting to come kick my ass for being so stupid.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. The next time I got pregnant, I was supposed to be happy and ready. Now I’m virtually homeless, unemployed, and estranged from the father. The one improvement from the last time is that even though I’m terrified and clueless about what to do, the pain in my chest I felt the last time isn’t here. Last time, I was heartbroken because the man I loved had no clue I had his child inside me. Now I’m supposed to speak with said child’s father about what my arrival in town means for him and our daughter, and I have no clue what it means.

I sit up as I hear the door open. I turn around to see Aidan with a big brown bag from McDonalds, and I could kiss him.

“I got you two double cheeseburgers with Mac sauce and some fries,” he says, tossing me the bag.

He still remembers my order.

“You’re my hero,” I say with a wide smile, tearing the bag open and almost gulping down my first cheeseburger. “When does Grams get back?”

He devours his Big Mac, making a fake orgasmic sound, and I nod in understanding.

“Next Monday,” he says after swallowing the wad of beef.

“So when she’s gone, is this what’s on the menu?”

“Pretty much.” He passes me the large orange soda sitting next to his feet and lets out a large belch.

“That was so freakin’ sexy,” I tease, and he winks, and flashes me a wide grin showing off his dimples.

I always thought it was unfair that he has those. Dimples should be something only nice guys have. Men who don’t just want to bang you and leave; guys who want relationships and families. Dimples should be a requirement of a gentleman, a tell-tale sign that he’s a keeper, that he could be
the one
. I know dimples aren’t the only thing that make girls want Aidan though. Aidan is hot in a way that most girls want. I can’t lie—he has a body that looks as if it was sculpted by God himself. I used to hate for him to go parading around with no shirt on, which he does whenever it’s more than seventy degrees. It was so hard not to stare. Plus he has eyelashes that make me envious, and his lips aren’t thin and barely there. They’re plump and heart-shaped, and if he hadn’t been sort of my best friend since we were kids and I didn’t know how much of an asshole he could be and he didn’t annoy me so much . . . but he was and he does.

“You love it,” he says just as sarcastically, showing off his set of perfect white teeth.

“So . . . are you, like, unemployed now?” I ask, ignoring the lonely butterfly in my stomach that has gone insane and is attempting to fly around.

“Yup, I’ve got enough saved up to open up the body shop by the end of this year,” he says casually, and my eyes widen in surprise.

“You’re opening up a body shop?” I ask happily. Aidan has always loved working on cars, but whenever I mentioned the idea of his own shop, he balked at it, saying there wasn’t enough money where we lived to sustain it.

“Yeah.” He gives me a half-smile, but I can tell by the way his eyes are lighting up that he’s really excited.

“That’s amazing, Aidan. Congratulations!” I squeal, and he nods shyly. Aidan is only ever shy is when he’s embarrassed, and he’s only ever embarrassed if he thinks he doesn’t deserve something. “So what changed your mind?”

He sort of shrugs, finishing the last of his fries. “There’s not much else for me. I’m done fighting. I wish I could be a rapper, but I kind of suck at that, so fixing cars just sort of made sense.” He says playfully.

“But you always said there isn’t enough money for you to do it here.”

“There isn’t.” He obviously can tell I’m confused. “I’m going to start it in Chicago.”

Now, I’m really stunned.

“Chris and Lauren are going in with me, and we already have some places scouted and . . .” He obviously notices my face dropped at the mention of them.

I almost feel sick. “Wow, that’s great. That’s really, really great.”

I hate that hearing the name of my former best friend makes me want to jump off a building to avoid being drowned with guilt, but even with those feelings, I want to ask Aidan everything about Chris—how’s he doing with his condition, about his impending twins, if he’s still teaching. I want to know my best friend is okay. More than okay, I hope he’s fantastic. But I know now isn’t the time to ask about him. Aidan’s just now warming up to me, and I think even the mention of Chris would make him pissed off at me. He probably doesn’t think that I should ask anything about Chris and his family since I so gloriously almost destroyed it.

“Enough about me,” Aidan says, taking a seat beside me on the couch. His weight makes it sink. He looks at me dead in the eye. “So what’s the game plan?”

I take a deep breath and lean back into the couch. Aidan has never been one to beat around the bush. It isn’t his style. I fold my hands across my stomach. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he asks, his voice unwavering.

I can tell he’s trying to hide either irritation or amusement from his voice. Since I’m looking straight ahead and avoiding his stare, I can’t say.

“You came back here for a reason, I’m guessing.”

“Other than it was supposed to be a place where I had free room and board?” I say dryly, and he lets out a sigh of frustration.

“Come on, Leese, I know you’d live on the highway in a box before coming back and putting up with Evie,” he says adamantly.

This time I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. He’s definitely in fix-things mode. Aidan the fixer. I really wish he could just be the eat-ice-cream-and-drink-wine Aidan. I’d love that right about now, as if Aidan would ever drink wine.

I let out a deep breath. “I just . . . I figured if there was a place to start fixing things, the place where I broke it all makes the most sense.”

He nods slowly. “Do you think you can get your old job back?”

I think about how hard it would be to work at a bar in my state and not take one drink. “Yeah, but since I don’t know what I want to do yet and alcohol is too tempting to be around, that probably wouldn’t be a great idea.” I chuckle, and he looks at me disapprovingly.

“I meant at the school.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t really think of that. I gave notice when I left, but God, the last thing I want is to be around kids. Not that teaching was terrible; I just felt like a hypocrite, teaching young minds when I had no clue what I was doing in my own life. Especially since the reason I became a teacher was just so screwed up in the first place. Choosing the job of the married man you fell in love with
? Great decision
.

“I don’t know if I’m really ready for anything that permanent,” I finally say.

He runs his hand across his jaw, then stares at his lap. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say or not say, and it’s funny. Aidan is used to saying whatever he wants. That he’s actually considering my feelings is touching, and I wonder if this is due to Hillary’s presence in his life. But she seems just as brash as the both of us.

“What, Aidan?” I say, giving him unneeded permission to speak.

“If you’re having a baby, don’t you think you need something more permanent?”

My eyes leave his. “I don’t know if I’m having this baby yet.”

I look up, and he’s squinting at me as if he’s trying to figure me out. Which is surprising, because as much as Aidan and I quarreled and at one time despised each other, Aidan always got me, even more than Chris did. Even with all of the dumb—well, dumb and selfish—decisions I made, the only decision that Aidan didn’t get was going to California and leaving Willa. That decision changed everything between us. So the thought of having him right in my reach again and possibly losing him all over because of my decision not to be a mother, the thought that I’ll be all alone again, makes my eyes water. Thinking of Aidan looking at me with disgust like he did that day makes me full-on ugly cry, and I can’t stop.

“Leese, come on. Everything’s going to be okay.”

His arms wrap around me and pull me to his chest. He’s so warm, and I instantly feel as though I have a blanket wrapped around me.

“Since when did you become such a crybaby?” he says with a laugh in his voice.

“I don’t know,” I puff out between cries. I close my eyes and hold him, relishing the human contact. He smells so good, like Ivory soap and Axe deodorant.

“When did you become such a girl?” He laughs, and I feel the vibration of it through his body.

He leans back as if to look at me, but I keep my head down. The tension between us is thick, and the air seems harder to take in. I’m not used to these emotional, heavy moments with him. It’s weird and I’m lonely and his body warmth is enveloping me, and I realize those big arms aren’t plastic balloons. They’re hard and steady around me.

I really need to get away from him. This reaction has to be pregnancy hormones. I slip out of his embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asks, confusion and concern on his face.

“Yeah,” I say, holding by a thread every emotion that seems a million times magnified.

“You sure?” he asks, folding his arms across his wide chest.

Shit, why am I thinking about his chest? “Yeah, just umm, pregnancy stuff. I-I’m going to take a nap. We can talk later, I promise.”

I practically bolt from the room, leaving him stunned and confused.

“Chicks,” he says before I close my door.

GIRLS ARE CONFUSING
as fuck. I just don’t get it. Hillary is supposed to be the cool chick. The one you can hang out with, have a beer with, and not get any pressure from. When she’s really in her element, she talks like a sailor, can drink most guys under the table, and fucks like a porn star. She’s smart too, and I like being around her, but the minute she starts trying to push whatever it is we’re doing . . . I can’t even say relationship because I’d literally throw the hell up. When she acts like we’re permanent, I start to sweat, my stomach gets weird, and I’m pretty sure I’m almost on the verge of a heart attack. When she told Lisa how she could borrow some of her clothes, I wondered why the hell she brought enough clothes to be able to lend some out.

We made up like we always do—it’s a pattern, and I can’t lie and say I don’t like it—but it’s different now. When we used to argue about random things people only argue about when they’re
seeing
each other—like how the waitress wearing a top that showed off her rack to the whole world looked at me when we were at the bar, stupid things like that—we fucked and made up and that was it. It was like a clean slate. But now, there’s always a bad aftertaste like we haven’t really made up. Like she’s still mad—really,
really
mad—but she doesn’t want me to know it and it comes out when she snaps at me over little things. Then I start to wonder when she became this person who wants so much from me. Even though everyone seems to think I am, I never said I was her boyfriend. When I tell Chris I’m not Hillary’s boyfriend, he only laughs at me. Lauren sighs and tells me to talk to Hillary about it. If it were that easy, I would have a long time ago!