4
Kam
Right now,more than anything, I want to speak with my father. To hear a familiar voice. After the shock I had with Alana emerging, I’d give anything for some solid footing right now. Now that she’s here, I can already tell it’s going to be turbulent water. I’m not even sure anyone could offer advice on this except Lauren, but she’s the last person I’d call at the moment. No doubt Megan’s brothers are stopping at nothing to find out where Megan is, and calling Lauren to ask for advice on how to handle Alana would be completely stupid.
I can’t call my dad. Hell, I’m not even sure he would offer advice. He hasn’t really been Megan’s biggest supporter since it came out that the paternity is in question. I know he’s just trying to make sure I’m not sacrificing my life or putting what’s important to me on the line to pursue a woman that could destroy me. A negative paternity test will definitely turn my family against her, and I’d never hear the end of it because I’ll never leave her.
I brought Megan here because I wanted to shield her from all the negativity. I was tired of hearing them all spew their opinions on what they thought I should do. Megan didn’t need to hear that; she already has too much going on to worry about what my family thinks about her. I didn’t want her to believe that I would eventually start hearing their words and leave her. So, I got her away from the noise. I couldn’t let them continue to make her feel like shit. She could feel their increasing disapproval of her, which is yet another reason I decided to get her out of there until the baby is born. Being at home was just too stressful for her.
I don’t expect anyone to understand what I’m doing; they can’t understand that even if it’s Hudson’s baby, my love for Megan will make me love that child like my own. Even she couldn’t see my reasoning behind us being here. But when she’s back, and this little ordeal is over and done with, she’ll understand why I did what I did.
She’ll be grateful.
Everyone else back home will understand as well. When we get back, they’ll see Megan and me with a healthy baby, more in love with each other than we were when we left, and they’ll all eat their words.
We just have to get through this first.
I have to get through her first.
This hurricane of a woman. Destroying everything in her path. I won’t let her destroy us.
The way she shouted at the doctors and how she bounced between mocking me for my miscalculation to being pissed off to the point of yelling shows me she’s a firecracker.
“Fine. But whatever happens after this is because of you!”
Her last few words still echo in my head, a threat left open-ended, that has made me more anxious than I care to admit. Ever since, there’s been palpable tension, like noticing the unnatural color of the sky right before a tornado or the shoreline receding before a tsunami. I can see a large-scale natural disaster coming, but I plan on weathering it. My windows are boarded up, and my most valuable assets are locked down. I just have to get through the worst of it. I’m not sure about the kind of damage she can do, but for her to have worked in a strip club, I’m certain she’s had to have seen and dealt with some rough shit. And from what I know, she’s resourceful.
Seeing how she scratched up Uncle George’s face, I’m aware she has no problem getting aggressive, but, in her defense, he probably deserved what she gave him. Aunt Marilyn would probably love to lay one across his face along with hundreds of other women. Still to this day, I wonder why she hauled off and slapped him. Maybe I’ll be able to find out while she’s here.
Just like at the charity event, her switch was sudden. I didn’t know it at the time, but now that I’ve witnessed it for myself, her condition is that much more real. Alana’s no longer just a scowling picture in a manilla folder that looks like Megan; she’s a very real entity that has the power to steal the love of my life away, and I have to save her. When I met with Veronica, I knew she wasn’t Megan. Her words were direct, her tone stern, and there was an air to her that made her feel wise. But she still had some likeness to Megan. Meeting Veronica for the first time wasn’t nearly as jarring as meeting Alana, and now that I have come face to face with her, my eyes have been opened.
But I won’t be deterred.
Alana is a demon possessing Megan's body, and now that I know what I’m dealing with, I won’t misstep again. I’ve already taken the necessary precautions to keep her here, so now all I have to do is show Megan that she has nothing to worry about, and Alana will leave. Megan will come back out, and then we’ll be back on track.
I just have to be patient.
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for what I have to do now. I go into the kitchen, so I can make her something to eat. Megan barely ate dinner last night and didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast this morning. The news of our extended stay disrupted her eating schedule. Alana hasn’t come back out since she slammed the door, and hours have gone by, so I know she has to be starving. Megan constantly snacked, so I know she could use something.
Seeing how Megan reacted last night, I felt it would be the right decision to give the staff some time off until she came to terms with our new surroundings, and now, I’m more than relieved that I did. I don’t need anybody to witness the level of anger I saw Alana reach this morning.
That means I’ll be making our meals now. I can’t imagine Alana will want to cook for herself, and I’m not comfortable with her being in the kitchen anyway. There are way too many heavy pots and pans she can swing and sharp objects she can weaponize.
The thought freezes me as I crack eggs into a bowl.
Rinsing my hands off, I briefly abandon my plans of making Megan a late breakfast and hide all the knives and anything else she can use to hurt herself or me.
Once all but one knife and one pan are safely hidden, I get back to making her food. I put a kettle of water on for tea, and as I wait for it to boil, I prepare eggs and toast with strawberry jam and then cut up grape tomatoes and avocado on the side. Just as I finish with that, the kettle starts to whistle and I pour hot water into a cup that already has a lavender tea bag waiting inside, along with two spoons of honey. I add some lemon juice, and at the very end, I add milk. It’s the exact way she always makes it for herself.
Taking hold of the tray handles, I make my way to the room on the first floor she closed herself in. I’m fully aware that she may not open the door, but I’m not going to back away. She needs to eat something, and I’m going to knock until she opens up.
When I open the door, I’m thrown off. I expect her to be mad, livid that I’m coming to her, but I’m not met with anger. She doesn’t even answer.
She might be in the shower.
I’ll leave the tray on the nightstand. I take the master key from my pocket, expecting to hear a shower going, but I open the door up to silence. Pushing further into the room, I find it empty, and the bathroom is dark. A breeze hits my face, and I look over at the wide-open window.
I sigh, irritated.