“Hi Sweet Lips,” he says, kissing me again.
“Hi.”
Jimmy moves so he’s on the other side of me and picks up my hand. He kisses my rings before locking his fingers with mine. If we were any place else I’d punch him in his junk, but I can’t really do that right now since I’m stuck and I want to know if my baby has ten fingers and toes.
“Have you seen our bub, yet?”
“No, Mr. Davis, we were just about to look.”
I want to throw up at how sweet James is being to Jimmy. I mean, really? I’m the pregnant one. Shouldn’t he be sugary sweet to me?
“Call me JD.”
I roll my eyes and face the screen. “Can we see the baby now, please?”
James pulls his eyes away from Jimmy’s and looks for the wand. He fumbles with it a few times before setting it back on my stomach. The baby’s heartbeat fills the room again, relaxing me.
“What’s that noise?”
I look over at my husband and see his eyes wandering. This is why I wanted him here, not only to be by my side, but to experience this together.
“That’s our baby,” I say, quietly, my voice breaking. Jimmy’s face breaks out into the most mesmerizing grin I’ve ever seen. More than when I said yes to his marriage proposal. He kisses me hard, holding my face to his.
“I need to record this sound,” he says, pulling away. He lets go of my hand, takes out his phone and holds it in the air. I want to laugh out loud at how silly he’s being, but know this is something I’ll listen to over and over again.
“There you go. I think I’ve got it.”
“I hope so,” I say, knowing I’ll need to hear the heartbeat again once I get home.
“Do you want to know what you’re having?”
Jimmy and I stare at each other, both our faces morphing into smiles. As much as I want to be mad at him right now, and believe me I plan to let him have it after we’re done, now that he’s here, I want to know as long as he’s sitting by my side.
We both look at James and nod.
I’M pushing it, I know I am. I can’t help it. No, that’s not right. I can help it, but I don’t know how. I feel like my head is going to explode and it doesn’t matter what I do, or what I say, it’s going to be the wrong thing.
Chelsea’s pregnant. She reminds me of this fact on a daily basis, throwing it in my face like I’m supposed to care. She tells me that she loves me and is ready to get married. The smart thing for me to say is ‘I’m already married’, but I don’t. I don’t say anything. I act like a fucking mute when she’s around. I hate it. I hate that when I’m in LA I can’t leave my flat without her following me. At what point do women wake up and smell the coffee? When do they realise that they’re being ignored on purpose and that it doesn’t matter how much whining and crying they do, if a bloke isn’t into them, he’s not going to change his mind suddenly?
She asked me to go to her doctor’s appointment. I declined politely by saying I didn’t want to go. She burst into tears. I fucking hate it when women cry so I gave in and said I’d go with her. I don’t even know why I went. I know this baby isn’t mine, yet I sat there in the waiting room, reading a magazine and shying away from her every time she tried to hold my hand. The only problem with that is I never asked when it was and, sod’s law, I was delayed in getting back to my Jenna.
Yeah, my Jenna. I miss her. I miss holding her hand and kissing her luscious lips. I miss rubbing my hand along her stomach, knowing our baby is in there thriving off her. I know she knows something is wrong. Our phone conversations were short and I had to speak so quietly that she had to ask me to repeat myself. I couldn’t risk Chelsea hearing me and since I’m a total idiot, I couldn’t ask Chelsea to leave.
But I’m here now and I’m holding my wife’s hand as we walk to her car. I open the door for her, but she doesn’t get in. She stands against the side of the car and crosses her arms under her glorious boobs. I reach out to rub her arm, but she shies away from me.
Fuck me.
I run my hand through my hair. It’s in dire need of being cut, but I wanted to ask Jenna her opinion. I want to get a Mohawk, but I want her to like it.
“Jenna…”
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“Don’t. You don’t get to Jenna me. You left me, Jimmy. You said you’d be right back. To me that’s… I don’t even know, but not two weeks and not with those sorry ass excuses for phone calls.”
Jenna bites lower lip and I want to pull it from her offending teeth and kiss the crap out of it, but having her move away from me again isn’t something I want to experience.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s a shit excuse, but I am. I didn’t mean to be away for this long. I tried… look it doesn’t matter. I’m back and am not going anywhere.”