I'm Not Letting Go

(Pete)

I had done it. I actually married Ashlee.

We went our little honeymoon, and it was fun, but as fun as it would have been with her.

Every time I smiled I felt guilty; I shouldn’t be, everything’s telling not to be.

The months passed.

We finished up recording in September, released it later cause of crazy press stuff and industry being bitches.

All summer, I had worked on MTV. It was just another way for me to escape.

But it was only shortly lived, as soon as summer was over, so was it. I was promised more of it, but I haven’t got any idea if that will actually happen.

Dakota hadn’t talked to me much since the wedding. I wasn’t sad though; if I had talked to her at all on my honeymoon, Ashlee would have known and it would have all been over.

So even though part of me was pissed and sad that it was November and Dakota still hadn’t at least called me since May, the other part was grateful and was moving and growing up.

I was beginning to get used to Ashlee being pregnant and the idea of having a kid.

We kept everything secret, not that we necessarily knew all that much. I didn’t like knowing about it.

I remember very clearly the day Bronx was born. I had just driven home from some place for some meeting the night before. I was exhausted; I got in at like 3 in the morning. Then at the magical hour of 6 o’clock at night, her water broke.

I immediately went into dad mode. We were at the hospitable in minutes.

At around 9 o’clock that night Bronx Mowgli Wentz was born, 7 pounds 11 ounces. He was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. He actually made me cry, happy tears, for the first time.

I of course I had a little help with the name, Mowgli, being one of my favorite characters and Ashlee loved Jungle Book anyway. But Bronx, that was all Ash. She said it was hip and trendy enough and had meaning. It meant a lot to her, so it was okay, and was long as I didn’t have to tell the kid he was named after the place where his parents first fucked, it was all good.

But I knew I was going to get hell for naming my kid Bronx Mowgli Wentz, especially since his initials are BMW.

I could be eternally happy with this kid, because it was the better half of me.

But this wasn’t what I planned. I always imagined me and Dakota having children. I had always pictured a little Pete Wentz IV running around with a mini Dakota.

But I didn’t regret for one second Bronx. He was my rock. I needed him in the life I’m living.

For right then, I thought that was the only child I was going to have. And at that solitary moment, I was okay with that. But then reality came back to me.

(Dakota)

I was there the day after she had the baby. He was beautiful. And Pete was glowing with joy and pride.

I remember thinking who the fuck names their kid after a New York borough and a cartoon character. I figured it was some kind of twisted inside joke.

It was nice to have little bit of Pete in my arms. And it was nice to just be there for him in this moment on joy and bliss for him. It had been the first time I talked to him since the wedding.

It wasn’t that I was completely avoiding him, but I was. I needed to stay away from Pete for awhile, to keep me sober from him.

It was easy when he was on his honeymoon, even easier when I went on tour with Panic, but then it got hard when things settled down.

Brendon and I kept busy. We still aren’t married or anything. And I don’t think either of us really cared anymore. We just stopped trying as much. We just stopped where we were in our relationship.

So now I stuck even more than before. With someone who was willing to fight for our relationship, while I was pining after someone who was stuck in his own shitty relationship.