22
Kam
I pacethe floor of the room I’ve been staying in, unable to get her words out of my head, but that’s nothing new. I’ve been losing sleep trying to figure out what I’m going to do to make this better. After all, she’s kind of been better, a little. Her voice hasn’t been gentle once since she got here. I can still hear it clearly even though it’s been two days since she said it.
I’m skeptical about letting her out; it’s way too risky. I know that as soon as I do, this will all go sideways. It seems like a setup. But I feel that resolve crumbling now that she’s thrown the baby in my face. Keeping her in there is safer for the both of us, but she doesn’t see it that way. She feels trapped, and the monsoon of emotions that come with that aren't good for the baby; all of this is meant to be for the wellness of my child.
I pass my hands through my hair, frustrated that I’m going to have to let her out for a few hours a day, which seems good enough. I’d have to keep a close watch on her to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on anything that could seriously injure me. I’ve hidden most of the more dangerous things, but I still wouldn’t be able to let her roam on her own; she might uncover everything meant to be kept away from her.
I was set on keeping her in there, but now it looks like she’s going to be out here with me for some portions of the day. Who knows, we could fall into a little routine while she’s here. She could help me make her meals instead of me doing everything for her. I’d be able to learn more about her if we were around each other more, and that could make this easier. We might get used to each other. If she didn’t despise me, it’d make everything better for Megan and me.
I freeze in my spot as the thought starts to take shape in my mind. I’ve never even considered what a life with Alana would be like if we got used to each other. It’s never been a possibility with how irate she’s been this entire time. I only saw her absolutely hating me and trying to get away from me whenever she appears. It never crossed my mind that we could possibly grow accustomed to one another.
Which is far from what Megan and I want, and this is all for her. I need her back more than anything. Maybe playing nice with Alana will get her back. I just have to get her to see I’m not a threat to Megan, which is completely ridiculous. I can show her that I can tolerate her, and Megan and I being together won’t obliterate her as much as I want it to. It’s so hard being around Alana. She's vulgar, she’s mean, she’s rude, nasty, and demeaning. She has no concern for the safety of others. She’s conniving, violent, and all around intolerable. Any time she wants something, she demands I bring it to her, but if I ask her if she wants anything, she leaves it up in the air for me to figure it out, only to get it wrong so she can yell at me. I don’t know how to talk to her, so every time I ask her something, and she doesn’t answer with an insult, it’s a success for me.
Every single last thing about them is different, even the vibe their pregnancy gives off. Megan gives off a maternal air. All she does is stare at her belly, rub it and talk to it. She’s already in love with our child and makes me more excited each day to become a father.
But Alana, as much as I hate to admit it, she makes her pregnancy look erotic. She has an allure that seems forbidden, that as embarrassed as I am to admit, it intrigues me. And I know in some twisted way, she thinks she’s protecting Megan. She said it in the shittiest possible way, but now that I had time to think about what she said a few days ago, I can read between the lines to see that Alana doesn’t want Megan to be hurt. She has a heart buried in all that blackness, and if Hudson can get to it, I’m sure I can.
Letting her out of this room would be a good place to start; for a couple hours a day, I’d let the lioness roam free and just hope she doesn’t pounce on me. But I’m still more than skeptical about the idea.
My alarm goes off, shattering the silence of the room and alerting me that I need to get down there and start on Megan’s breakfast. I clean myself up before going downstairs to make strawberry pancakes with a side of eggs. I brew decaf coffee and pour apple juice in a cup because she’s been craving it for the past three days. When I look at the clock, it’s only seven, but I know she’s up already. She’s always up early, ready to eat.
At the door, I knock and prepare for her usual answer.
“What!?” she yells, and my stomach does a flip.
“Can I come in?”
“You better have something good on that tray!”
I look down at the pancakes with the side of strawberry syrup I had to look up how to make.
“I think you’ll like it.”
“Well, what are you waiting on?”
My heart throbs as I take her in on the reading nook. She’s basically done with the first book, and when I come in, she closes it and drops it on the floor. When I set the tray down in front of her, she stares at it, her face unreadable
“Why’d you make this?” she asks, and everything in me sinks as I prepare myself for a verbal assault.
“ I can make something else,” I say tightly.
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s fine. I’ll eat it.”
I turn around to leave the room, but her voice stops me.
“What do you do out there all day?”
“Ugh, I clean up, read, sometimes I exercise.”
“You used the pool?”
I nod. “Just once.”
“I want to use it,” she states.
I raise an eyebrow at her, and she pays no mind to me.