My Baby, My Darling.

It was quiet, all except for the sound of my heavy breathing and the echo of my hand making harsh contact with his cheek. I didn't realize what I had done until later on, when I replayed the entire situation in my mind. But, at that moment in time, I was livid. I sat there, glaring at him and internally shaking from the anger slowly building up inside of me.

He let me go for weeks thinking that he was the victim, the one that was betrayed. I couldn't fathom the audacity it must have required for him to legitimately throw his brother under the bus and let me go on as the fool that pitied him as I carried around his strategically implanted lie. He planned this, he coerced Monica into lying for him in the process. I felt sorry for her, for the situation she was in, alone. But she wasn't alone, she and Dexter were in contact this entire time. He let me walk around with this mound of guilt inside of me for not telling him about his brother's false paternity while he sat on a throne of lies and had silent meetings with her.

"I deserved that." He said, rubbing his jaw where the contact of my hand stung him only minutes ago. His hand dropped to his side as I made a move to stand up on my feet, willing myself to walk away from him before I blew up. He stood up after me, gripping my elbow to stop me. "Darling, wait."

I spun around and slapped him again, hoping that one was harder than the first time. I pointed a finger at him, my jaw clenched.

"You don't get to do that, you do not have the right!" I seethed, poking him roughly in the shoulder.

"You asshole! You have been lying to me for weeks, letting me walk around with this, this guilt and let me think that I knew something that could potentially hurt you, your feelings. Little did I know that you have none! Only an emotionless asshole could pull shit like this and still have the nerve to call me 'Darling'. And here I am, thinking I'm the heartless one for hiding this from you, this lie that you told Monica to tell me. Who does that? Who tells their ex-fiancé to lie to their girlfriend about the father of his child? God, I don't even think that makes any sense. That's how fucked up this whole situation is."

"I know."

"No!" I screamed, shaking my head and fighting back the tears threatening to fall down my face. "You don't know! You are nowhere close to knowing what I feel right now. You don't know shit."

He rubbed the back of his head and looked past me, ready to take my next blow, physical or verbal. I licked over my lips as tears began to cloud my vision. How did I end up like this? I rolled my eyes and turned away from him, wiping the tears that began to fall with the sleeves of my coat. I tried desperately to steady my breathing, to calm down. And I was suddenly exhausted. I couldn't find my will to yell at him anymore than I already had, realizing how useless and draining my efforts would be.

"God, how long have you been seeing her, Dexter?" I whispered, shaking off his attempts to grab ahold of my arms to console me. "How many times have you sneaked around behind my back to meet with her?"

His eyes interlocked with my own, full of remorse. His face screamed guilt.

I looked away from him and scoffed, biting my lower lip. "I should have known, you know? I should have somehow saw this coming. The way you talked about her, when you laid eyes on her at the lake house. I really can't blame you, Dexter, she is beautiful. Brian was right...I do have a type. This is my type."

"Is that what you think I did?" He furrowed his eyebrows, closing the distance between us so that he was standing in front of me. "And you're going to compare me to a scumbag like Brian? You think I cheated on you? Chelsea, I didn't-"

"How am I supposed to believe anything you say to me right now?" I cried, cursing myself for letting him see this side of me, this weakness. "As much as you tell me you didn't cheat, I don't think I'll be able to find it in me to believe you."

"You think I'm the only one that has something to hide?" He spoke accusingly, his glare intensifying by the second, "You think I don't know what's going on between you and Travis? Your secret date with him at that coffee shop, hushed conversations when I'm in the other room. I'm not the only one that's guilty here."

"Nothing is going on between Travis and I." I hissed, shaking my head in disbelief. How could he even bring up Travis in this conversation when he is nowhere near relevant. "God, it's like a broken record with you."

"But you won't believe me when I say I'm not sleeping with Monica?"

"That's different." I narrowed my eyes.

"Enlighten me." He spoke harshly, his gaze piercing through me.

"I didn't have a baby with Travis!" I raised my voice again, biting my lip as I crossed my arms over my chest. It was my turn to direct my accusing gaze at him. I watched his glare disappear as my words forced him into realization of this situation. I knew I got to him, I gained his attention. "Don't you dare compare what I did to the lies you put me through, what you are still putting me through. I didn't lie about my relationship with Travis. You've known about Lydia all along and you said nothing!"

"Lydia was born long before I met you, you know that I have no control over that."

"You're right, you don't." I admitted, my voice dropping to a whisper as my expression lightened to one of defeat. I knew he couldn't do anything about this situation. I didn't know what to do anymore. I hated being this, acting this way.

I pushed strands of hair put of my face as I licked over my lips. "I can't do this, Dexter."

"What?" His features softened as he searched my eyes. "What can't you do?"

"This," I spoke softly, gesturing between us, "you and I. If this relationship shapes me into this kind of person, the type that has to tiptoe and live in this paranoia that something is wrong every step of the way, I don't want it. You and I, we don't need it."

Silence, again. My words hung in the air like the the chiming of a bell echoing throughout an empty house.

"What if that isn't how I feel?" Dexter spoke calmly, his eyebrows furrowed as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "What if I don't want to give up on this?"

"This, you mean this relationship? We can't even trust each other anymore, Dexter. What kind of a relationship is that?"

"I love you, Chelsea." His grey orbs captivated my own in his attempt to convey his sincerity. "That should be enough for our relationship, shouldn't it? At least to keep trying, not give up the first chance we get."

Tears started to stream down my cheeks again, and I pulled more onto my coat sleeves. I shook my head as I attempted wipe my face of any blatant emotion. "It isn't, Dexter. It is not enough when I start having trouble believing that you do."

He inhaled sharply and broke eye contact with me as he began to stroke the short stubble on his chin letting his hands drift to rub the back of his neck. He started to pace in a circle, his head dropped low to the ground as his hands rested on the back of his head. My words hurt him, I know it did. I'd seen him do that before, numerous times. It was an indication of frustration, defeat. I mostly saw him do this when he found that there was no cure for one of his patients or when his father cancelled their dinner plans for the third time. It only passed for a split second, and it would be almost impossible for anyone to catch his small display of emotion, but I knew. He didn't have control over the situation, and he hated it.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know that probably won't make any difference right now, but I am."

I nodded, understanding his loss for words. "I know."

The car ride home was utterly silent. We didn't say goodbye when he dropped me off at the Cafe, but I left his birthday gift in the glove compartment of his car. It didn't feel right to keep it, I bought it for him a few months ago and it wouldn't make sense for it to collect dust in my apartment. I was numb throughout the entire car ride and it seemed like I was operating on autopilot because before I knew it, I was curled up under my covers in nothing but my underwear. I don't know how I got there, but when realization hit me as to what had happened, I began to cry harder than I had for anything else, severely tainting my resolution to never cry over a guy. But I knew, deep down, this was different. I was different. He was different.

---

Beep.

"Hey, bitch. I haven't heard from you in a few days. I stopped by your apartment a few times, but you weren't there. And you are all out of poptarts, just so you know. Get your shit together because this poptart shortage is most definitely not okay. It might just taint our best friendship...

I'm only half-kidding. Call me back, hun! Let me know why you're MIA. I am in desperate need of some Chelsea-Nicole time!"

Beep.

I stirred my coffee with my teaspoon as my fingers ran over the keys of my cell phone so that I could delete one of the many voicemail messages clouding my inbox. It had been a week since the night at the rock arena, a week since I'd been in contact with Dexter. I'd received voicemails from Annie asking me what happened between her brother and I, Gabe asking me where I've been and why I blew off our plans to go jogging, and my mother asking me when Marc and I were going to visit.

"More coffee, hun?" Stella's chipper voice erupted from beside me as she filled my mug for what seemed like the hundredth time this past week.

I nodded feebly, pulling at the sleeves of my cardigan. "Thanks, Stella."

"You've really been on a roll this week. I don't think I've seen you this frequently since your high school days. Something on your mind?" Stella stood beside me, her slender wrist perched on a hip as she dropped the pitcher onto the table in front of me.

I knew that she was understating the situation entirely, I looked like outright shit and I knew it. My hair was piled at the top of my head and my eyes were puffy with dark bags from my lack of sleep. The only decent thing about my appearance was that I was dressed, but even that would take some serious evaluation because my sweats were not exactly usual attire for lunch at Peggy's Diner.

When I finally pulled myself out of bed a few days ago, the only place I could think to go was the Diner. It was my only safe haven a few years back, and the habit never really stopped. But everyday that I took the risk of coming in here, I drove past the parking lot a few times to make sure that neither Monica or Dexter's cars were parked outside before settling into my booth.

"Stella, you don't have all day." I muttered, sending her a knowing look before taking a sip of my coffee.

She rolled her eyes, faking an irritated look before grinning lightly. "My break is in ten minutes if you want to pull a Dr. Stella session like old times, hun."

I shook my head slowly, giving her an apologetic smile, "I'm not ready to talk about it yet, Stel. But you're an angel. Keep the caffeine coming and time just might heal my wounds this time around."

"You deserve the world, kid." She nodded, gesturing towards me with her pitcher and muttering the same slogan she'd been telling me since my high school days. "Don't you forget it."

I plastered a smile onto my face as she walked away. Almost immediately after she disappeared behind the counter, I sent a huge gulp of coffee down my throat. The burning sensation only soothed me. I directed my attention to the mound of sugar sitting on the table in front of me. One by one, I moved individual grains of sugar to a separate stack. This is what occupied my time for now, keeping my focus on something else for at least a few hours.

"You having fun there?" A familiar voice sounded from in front of me as he plopped down in the opposite end of the booth, throwing his jacket beside him.

I bit down on my lip and looked up to meet a familiar pair of green eyes.

"Travis," I spoke impassively, turning my attention back to the mound of sugar in front of me. "Sorry, but I really don't want to be around people right now. I hope you understand that it's nothing personal or anything."

"Annie told me what happened," he spoke in his usual, tired voice. "And I just want to make sure you didn't die here, from caffeine inhalation."

I know he meant it as a joke, and in any other circumstance, I would have laughed. But I really didn't have it in me to laugh. He wasn't phased by my lack of emotion. Travis merely ignored my impassive expression. He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table, sliding it towards me.

I raised an eyebrow, licking over my lips. "What is that?"

"There's only one way to figure out." He shrugged, gesturing with his head toward the envelope for me to open it.

I narrowed my eyes at him before opening the envelope.

"Concert tickets?" I know for a fact that I lacked the enthusiasm he was expecting.

He nodded, "The Lumineers are playing in New York this weekend. Annie and I have to go for work, but we got a few extra tickets. You can take Nicole or something, I already invited Gabe and Marc. It could be fun, a reason to get your mind off of things. And Gabe told me you've been wanting to visit your parents."

I blinked, letting out an involuntary sigh, "Travis, is this some sort of ploy? Clearly, you know Dexter and I broke up. You guys weren't exactly on the best terms, so I don't know if this is the best idea."

"There's no motive." He shook his head, surprisingly understanding why I brought up that point. "The tickets are yours, do what you want with them. I'm not trying to push you to do anything, I'm just giving you an opportunity for a change of scenery for a few days."

He got up from the booth and slid his jacket on, the same tired expression plastered onto his face. But as he turned to exit the diner, I called out to him.

"How did you know I'd be here?" I raised an eyebrow, still slouched in my side of the booth.

"We were friends in high school, Chelsea." He spun around to face me, a slight grin plastered onto his face, "I pay attention."

I nodded, watching as he made his way out of Peggy's Diner, into his car, and drove onto the highway, back into town.

I stared blankly at the envelope in front of me for the remaining business hours until closing. When I finished my last cup if coffee, I slid the envelope into my purse and drove home to collapse onto my bed. I cried myself to sleep.