“But we hate her.”
“Yeah, we do. That’s why I’m going to get her tickets… right in the middle of the Family Fun Zone. She’ll be surrounded by rowdy children. We can only hope, since it’s Christmas, they’ll be hyped up on sweets and holiday adrenaline.”
My heartbeat speeds, but in a good way. Nicky is brilliant! I let out a loud laugh and they join in.
“I’d pay money to see her face. You’re really a clever guy.” Claire high-fives him, and I fall back, trying to catch my breath.
There’s a whirlwind of emotions swirling in my head, but I try to push them away and enjoy this moment with my two best friends.
I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I know things are going to be okay.
With or without Shaw, I’ll survive.
Chapter 28
Shaw
I stare at the most recent sonogram picture of my son and wonder how I can be filled with so much love and loathing at the same time? Is it normal to go through so many emotional swings every minute of every day?
My mom was right. I was juggling too many balls in the air. My arrogance and self-serving determination was my driving force. The minute I saw this little boy on the screen, he knocked me on my ass. Then the balls started dropping.
Unfortunately, Bizzy was the one to suffer. But I made a decision to change, for him. If that meant finally giving into Sasha, I’d do it. I’d do anything for him.
For the first time, I had an appreciation for Sasha, so I decided to give her what she always wanted. Respect. She was giving me a son; I could make a few exceptions in my schedule and in my life for her.
The guilt is about to bury me. Every day, I’ve wanted to call Bizzy and confess how I’m feeling.
How do I share the excitement and not crush her already fragile heart? There’s a part of me that hopes I showered her with enough love and devotion to get us through this. I never expected this to happen, to find myself in the position of destroying the relationship with the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
But I am in this position, all because I can’t find a way to tell her all the changes that occurred inside me.
I’ve allowed her to think the worst, assume my distance is a reflection on her and question us. Instead of reassuring her, I’ve spent time trying to meet all of Sasha’s demands.
In the last few weeks, I’ve shopped for everything ranging from furniture to breast pumps. We’ve had several more lunches, these times with only our mothers, and spoken endlessly about the baby. In the last two weeks, I’ve even started attending one of many classes Sasha has scheduled for us at the hospital. Birthing, feeding, and CPR are only a few of the ones she has chosen.
Showing her my condo was the true test to my will. I still cringe when I think about her in my home—the home I am about to share with Bizzy, hopefully, if she’ll still have me.
She and her mother both had dollar signs in their eyes as they walked through, room by room. It didn’t make sense at the time, when her mom insisted on seeing my master bathroom. Until I heard the glass shatter from the bedroom.
I rushed back to see Sasha staring down at the splintered picture frame that held my favorite picture of Bizzy and me from the weekend before she moved. Sasha claimed her stomach brushed up against it when she turned, but I saw through her lie. There was a satisfied gleam in her eye, testing me to question her. But I remained quiet, sweeping up the glass and ushering them quickly out of my room. I replaced the frame and had the entire place cleaned the next day.
Sasha has made several snide comments, referencing the status of my relationship with Bizzy. She thinks she won by chasing her off. It’s written all over her face every time I see her. Her self-righteous attitude is driving me insane. It’s all I can do not to lash out and tell her she’s wrong, but then I think about my son.
I’m not stupid nor blind. Sasha’s trying to worm her way into my personal life. She’s hinted for weeks about being invited on my boat and attending football games with my family. It’s hard to hold my tongue, but I remain quiet, which fuels her excitement.
I’ve turned into that guy… the one who seems spineless, never speaking up or arguing.
When I look in the mirror, I hardly recognize myself. The man I was, living with Bizzy in Charlotte, seems like a ghost. All the memories are fading quickly as my days are filled with work and endless calls from Sasha, requesting something else absurd. Each time, I falter, agreeing.
God, Bizzy. I miss her so much it physically hurts. Will she ever forgive me? Can I even ask her to?
I glance at my watch and force myself to stand, knowing I’m already late. The familiar pain in my chest returns as I think about doing this without Bizzy.
Every year, our families, along with a few other volunteers, hand out presents on Christmas Eve to the kids on the oncology floor. It’s a tradition, a tradition Bizzy never misses. Until this year.
“You’re going to be late.”
I jerk my head to see Claire standing in my doorway, along with my mom. Both their expressions are full of worry and concern.