Tallulah

Later that year, we moved to New York City because I was getting tired of Los Angeles and wanted to be somewhat closer to my family.

(Actually, I was getting sick and tired of seeing Marina all the damn time. It turns out that Gloria set her up with some heir to some fruit company or something and they got married and moved into a home two blocks away from us. I had to see her at community picnics, at the supermarket, when I picked up our laundry - and seeing the way she looked at Addie made me want to be ill and rip her hair out, brown roots and all.)

We moved into a large, sprawling townhouse his uncle owned and ended up getting a nice deal on the rent. I didn't want to go back to Alabama, though, and Addie thought that maybe his career would take off in New York.

It didn't, much to his disappointment and my secret glee - if there were girls like Marina around him all day it wouldn't be long before he did it again - and since he didn't want me to work and was getting tired of dipping into our savings, he ended up becoming a civil servant and working for the Fire Department of New York City.

It's not permanent, he would promise as he snuck into bed in the middle of the night because he had to work such odd hours. Addie was the kind of person who was full of this sort of restless, insatiable energy and he always had to be moving and touching things and moping about when he had nothing to do, so I was happy that at least he could get out of the house and I had some time for myself.

The problem was that I had too much time to myself.

He worked 24 hour shifts every other day at first - he left at 5 in the afternoon and wasn't back until the next evening around 6, and then slept for the rest of that night and most of the day. When he was awake, he spent a lot of time with his friends from work - Turner with the black, slicked back hair, Vinny, balding and lanky, always smoking, and Ron, quiet and blonde (I didn't think he liked me very much but it wasn't like we talked) - so I spent maybe an hour or so with him daily.

At first, I enjoyed the time alone - spent my days walking around the city, shopping, cooking something for him to eat whenever he woke up, and lived my own life. I had friends, sort of, like the woman two houses down who rented her empty rooms to college students and the girl who worked at the bakery where I picked up a cake every few days.

It started to wear on me after a while though - empty beds and lonely dinners reminding me of what happened in California. But I'd brush those thoughts away as I'd rub my arms with lotion and settle into bed with my nightly tray of bonbons and watch the news. He wouldn't do that to me. He just wouldn't, not again, not after everything that happened, the humiliation, the tears, the fighting - he wouldn't. Addie had to know better.

Or at least I thought he did until I found a crumpled napkin with a phone number on it in one of his pockets while I was sorting out the laundry on a lazy Monday afternoon. I thought it was probably something work related, but my curiosity got the best of me and I had to call.

"Hello?" a woman answered, chewing a piece of bubblegum. "Hello? Anyone there?" I hung up suddenly, trying to keep myself from screaming and crying and pitching a fit like I had last time.

I felt at a loss as I sat there among our dirty clothes, bunching up a blouse in my hand as my eyes stung. I wanted to talk to someone, vent and yell and cry and have someone tell me it'd be okay and that everything would work out.

But who could I call? He was at work, and even if I confronted him about her he'd deny it. I couldn't call Momma - she didn't know and I didn't want her to know, didn't want anyone to know that I apparently couldn't keep him satisfied. I couldn't call my sisters, either. Simone was busy with some singer who was stringing her along (she was terribly unhappy and I didn't want to pour my problems upon her). Katie's divorce had finalized and she was just finally settling into her new life in New Mexico with her baby and her condo and a cute new paralegal at the firm she had just started working for. And Winona was, according to Momma, living with a man who beat on her and had a terrible drinking problem, and she didn't care for me anyway.

That evening, while I was half crying, half eating in bed and watching an old black and white film, it occurred to me that I could just try to reason with the woman, maybe get her to leave him be. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. I hoped so, anyway.

The next day, I called her and asked her to meet me for lunch and that I'd explain everything when we met. So, we met at Central Park near this tiny little hot dog stand. It was windy and cold that day, I remember. The woman, Wanda, was busty and long legged, a fashionable woman who smiled and shook my hand and apparently had no qualms about telling me she was sleeping with my husband.

She was a prostitute, and that somehow made me feel worse - he was paying someone to fool around when I was waiting for him at home.

"I mean, he pays good, so what can I say?" she said with a shrug, looking into her handbag. "Do you have a cigarette?" I simply stared at her as the hard wood of the bench pressed into my thighs. She lit a crooked cigarette with a match, sighing. "And for the record, he never wore his ring so how was I supposed to know? I'm no mind reader, lady. I'm sorry, but I need the money. I've got two kids, rent, bills, school crap - " She waved her hands around, sighing. "I know I'm not the only girl. If you want, I uh, I can give you some numbers, you know? So you can find the other girls. Some of them are... well, you know, dirty and all. Are you guys still... you know?"

"Sometimes," I mumbled quietly, still in shock.

"Well, you should know who he's messing with too, then. So you can get tested and all if you need to."

I spent the better part of a year tracking down all his lovers - 10 in all. 10 different girls, all with the same story - we didn't know he was married, but at least not all of them were hookers. I could barely stand him touching me at all because I knew, I knew what he did and he wasn't saying a word and he thought he was getting away with it.

I should have left after I met Janine, the last girl with pretty much no body and no wit, should have packed up and run down to Momma's and cried and cried and cried, but I couldn't. I felt numb. I'm sure Addie thought we were happy (he sure was) and that nothing was wrong, but everything was very, very wrong.

My 21st birthday was both a quiet and rather dramatic affair. We were going out for drinks with some friends that night and I was planning on at least trying to have a good time. The drive to the bar was quiet, filled with some nonsense small talk. The air in the car felt heavy and I sighed, leaning my face against the glass as I closed my eyes.

"Babe? You okay?" he asked as he parked the car.

"I'm fine."

"Is this because we didn't go see your parents last week?"

"No." He sighed and I heard his door open and shut. I wanted to take a moment to collect myself, but he was busy opening my door before I could. I couldn't look at him and instead focused on my shoes, new blue heels that I bought myself a few weeks before. He pressed a cool hand to my forehead, humming. He held me close and pressed a kiss to my forehead, smiling.

"We can go home if you don't feel up to it tonight, Lulu."

"No, no. It's a party," I said half heartedly, trying not to shrink away from him. "C'mon."

We had all gotten a booth near the back of the bar. While everyone ate, Addie had the bartenders bring me a cake and sing Happy Birthday to me. (For a tiny little second I just wanted to pretend that we were okay and that I didn't know what he had done with those women and that he loved me and only wanted me.) Henry, one of Addie's friends from the stationhouse, and his fiancée, Miranda, bought me some perfume and records. Penny, the girl from the bakery, baked the cake and also gave me tickets to see A Midsummer Night's Dream on Broadway two weeks from then. Frank, another one of Addie's buddies, bought me some flowers and a nice card - didn't expect much since I didn't really know him - and Caroline, the woman from down the street, bought me a few records too and a book.

Addie and I were going on to Niagara Falls for the weekend, so he didn't bring any gifts. He was acting like we were a happy normal couple and like he wasn't a cheating bastard, holding my hand and pressing kisses to my cheeks and dabbing frosting on my nose and lips. I just wanted to go home, but it was a party and I didn't want to damper everyone else's fun. So I sat and watched everyone dance and nursed a glass or two of wine, tapping my foot lightly to whatever played on the jukebox.

I just couldn't stop thinking about those girls and those lies and how he could look at me and tell me he loved me when he just couldn't have. He sat down next to me, hand on my upper thigh as he sipped some beer.

"Wanna dance?" he asked. "I know how much you like this song."

"I'd rather not." I looked down at my wine glass, eyes wandering to my rings. Why even wear them anymore? None of it mattered. "I'm sure you can find someone else to dance with."

"Yeah, but I want to dance with you."

"I don't want to dance."

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asked, squeezing the soft flesh. "Did you have too much to drink? You really should pace yourself." He pushed some of my curly hair behind my ear, biting his lip.

"I'm not drunk." I paused, taking the moment to finish my wine. "Let's dance, then."

The song was fast and I didn't mind dancing, not really, or faking a smile for our friends and laughing, but I did mind Addie telling me everything we'd do when we got to Canada. I wanted to push him away and slap him and throw a drink in his face, but settled for sighing and trying to compose myself instead.

"Is that what you said to those other girls too?" I whispered into his ear, squeezing my eyes shut.

"What? Lulu - "

"No, I mean - I - it probably is," I stammered, shaking my head. "How could you?"

"What? What are you talking about?" I tried shoving him away to no avail, eyes burning. He titled his head, frowning.

"I know what you did," I hissed, slapping his hands away. "I know about those girls - "

"Babe," he begged quietly, eyes pleading. "Not here - "

"No? Where then? Huh?" I bit my lip, trying not to scream. "How could you do this to me? Again?"

"Let's go home and we can talk about it there - "

"You're not even going to try to deny it then?" I don't know why that hurt me more than what he actually did - that he didn't even try to deny it or tell me that it wasn't what it looked like. My shoulders dropped as I sighed. "I knew it. I just - I just knew it." I untangle myself from his grip and storm out, grabbing my pocket book off the table.

"Lulu!" I could feel everyone staring at me as I pushed the heavy wooden door open, trying not to run down the busy street. "Lulu, wait!" I didn't even look back as I hailed a cab and quickly got in.

"Where to, miss?"

"I don't care - just - just drive, please."

I should have left then. I didn't. I don't know why - don't know why I acted like it was okay when I came home a few hours later, let him kiss my forehead and tell me he was sorry, why I didn't scream and slap him and tell him to leave, or why I didn't call Momma and tell her then. I just did. It would only get worse.

Much, much worse.

The following year or two passed by quietly - I had stopped looking (resigned myself to the fact that I just wasn't enough) and he worked and worked and I spent more and more time alone. We were sort of okay. We didn't fight that often and even went down to spend Christmas with our parents one year. I was starting to think we were okay by 1974 - that we had settled into our comfortably boring niche - but nothing was at all what it seemed.

That summer, a few weeks before school opened, the twins, my sweet little brother and sister, came up to visit. I can say many awful things about Addie - say that he lied and cheated and manipulated me, and I'd be right - but I can't say anything negative about how he treated the twins. I just can't. He loved them, loved them terribly. And they loved him.

When we picked them up at the train station - two little kids with bright eyes and matching outfits (because Maxine hated dresses with a fiery burning passion), blue shorts and black shoes and white button down shirts, screaming and running towards us as they dragged their suitcases behind them - Addie picked them up and laughed, letting them hug and talk his ear off.

"We saw so many horses - "

"And a lady on the train had a dog she let us play with - "

"Georgie kept fallin' asleep on me - "

"They let us keep the blankets - "

"And they let us sit up front for a lil' while - "

My parents wanted some time to themselves, which was understandable - the twins could be a handful, getting underfoot and always breaking something or having accidents, like children had the habit of doing - but it seemed as though none of my sisters could take them. They spent two days with Katie before begging to come home. Katie wasn't ever home and left them with the baby all day, so of course they weren't enjoying themselves, and their trip to Simone's house (she had moved to Oregon by then) proved no different. Winona couldn't stand them, so she refused to have them set foot in her house, which left me. And I was more than happy to have them - they were like my own children.

They would be staying with us for three weeks, and then a week before school started, we'd take them home and spend a week with my parents.

"Can we go to the park, please?"

"Momma says y'all have to buy us ice cream - "

He set them down with a quiet smile, glancing at me.

"We'll see what your sister says."

"Please please please!"

"Tally please! We've been good - "

"And it's so warm - "

"Let's drop your things at home, okay? And then we can go wherever you guys want," I told them, ruffling Kennedy's hair. We walked out of the station, hand in hand (almost like a real family).

I liked having the twins around - I wasn't so lonely in that house anymore, and they kept Addie and me from arguing (because no one really wants to fight in front of children, and they were always around). One afternoon, a week or so into their stay, the twins came up with the wonderful idea of surprising Addie at work with a picnic lunch. Kennedy was getting dressed and I was sitting with Maxine in the living room, combing her hair.

"Don't pull," she whined, shrinking away from me. She was used to wearing her hair loose and not doing much with it, which was fine, but it was getting rather long and was starting to frizz because of the heat and humidity. I tugged a little slower and she sighed, relaxing against my leg. "Do you and Addie like kids?" I laughed, rubbing some pomade into her hair.

"Of course we do. Do you think we don't want you here?" I looked down at her, squeezing her hand. "We wish you could stay all year, but you have school and your friends and Momma and Daddy, you know?"

"So if you like kids, why don't you have any?"

"What?"

"Well, I mean, Momma doesn't have anymore kids - "

"Momma doesn't need anymore kids."

"Yeah, but you don't have any. Do you guys not want any kids?"

"No, we just..." I trailed off, shrugging as I braided her hair down her back. "I don't know."

"Can you not have any? 'Cause, like, Momma says that Winnie's really sick and she can't have any babies 'cause she's so sick."

"No, no. I'm just fine," I laughed, helping her up. "Are you going to help me make some sandwiches now?" She nodded, dusting some lint off her shorts. "Maybe tomorrow we'll take you guys to the aquarium, huh? They have a new shark exhibit. It was in the paper this morning."

The walk to the fire station was nothing special - the twins kept fighting over who would hold the basket, Kennedy tripped and skinned his knee again, and Max kept trying to undo her braids without me noticing - but I couldn't help but to think of what Max had said. Why didn't Addie and I have any kids? It wasn't like we didn't want any - I just hadn't gotten pregnant. Did we even want kids?

We walked into the open lobby, the twins dropping the basket and running towards the shiny red truck, laughing and hollering over each other. Addie walked out of the office, rubbing his hands on a small towel. When I told him what the twins had planned, he simply smiled and kissed me and told me we'd better get going. He took the afternoon off and we took the kids to a nearby park.

Addie was different with them. He would bandage their skinned knees and take them out for ice cream and to drive in movies and swimming holes upstate - like an actual dad. And it made me wonder if maybe, just maybe, he'd be the same way if we were to have kids of our own. I never tried - always to be careful, kept track of my period, tried to be safe, that kind of thing - but it wouldn't hurt if I did.

I tried to picture myself pregnant and couldn't - I never thought about it - but maybe soon I wouldn't have to wonder anymore. Maybe.

A week or so after my talk with Max about kids and about why we didn't have any, they went home on the train after crying and pleading to stay for just one more day.

We slipped into a comfortable, easy going routine, which was why when, one morning, a month or so later, I woke up (alone, like usual, because Addie was on a 3 to 3 schedule) and realized that my period was very, very late, I simply smiled and curled up with my pillow in bed.

It was finally happening. I didn't want to get too excited, so I wasn't going to tell him until I knew for sure. Morning sickness didn't start for another three weeks or so, and it was so bad that I could barely keep my breakfast down, much less do anything else. I think he thought I was sick, but not that I was pregnant - I had yet to go to the doctor, but I had an appointment set and would be there in about a month's time (it was New York City, after all) - and I just wanted to find the right time to tell him.

The problem was that there never was a right time. If he wasn't working, he was out with his friends, or sleeping, or fixing something or messing with the car and I just couldn't find a simple moment to tell him that we were having a baby. When I thought about it, I couldn't help but to smile and laugh because maybe - just maybe - things were going to change and we were going to be happy. I'd be damned if we weren't.

When I went to the doctor, I was almost three months along and was barely starting to show, but yes, I was very pregnant and was referred to an OB-GYN a few blocks away where I would have bi-weekly appointments. He gave me a prescription to get me started on some pre-natals I could take until I got in to see the other doctor. I would fill them the next day. I was already thinking of how I'd break the news. A nice dinner, candles, one of his favorites for dinner, chicken and broccoli, maybe put some of our home movies on the projector in the living room, and it was going to be just perfect.

It was a Friday. It was raining and cold and windy, and I remember bundling up as I pottered around the house.

Addie has done many things to me in the past that I shouldn't have forgiven him for but I did anyway because I was his and he was mine and I wanted to be happy so terribly. I wanted nothing more than for him to be the person I thought he was and I thought that if I gave him another chance, he would change.

But what happened that Friday evening is something I'll never forgive him for, never. The worst part is that he doesn't even know (well, I guess he does now) the full extent of his damage.

While I was poking at the biscuits, he called he and told me he might be an hour or so late. He was picking up some groceries and didn't want me to worry. That was at around three. At five, I called the station house just to make sure he hadn't got called out on a fire or something before he left - a rare occurrence, but it did happen from time to time - but he had left, like always, at three.

So, since it seemed like he was going to be a little later than I expected, I decided that I could take my time with dinner and getting myself ready. Dinner was ready by six thirty. He still wasn't home. If he was going out with his friends, that was fine - I just wanted to know, because then I would have just packed up dinner, fixed him a plate and left it on the stove, and gone to bed and that would have been that.

But he kept me waiting.

And waiting.

And waiting.

I was starting to get tired really easily, and when I found myself dozing, I jerked up and rubbed my face, sighing. But at some point, I must have fallen asleep because I woke up when the door slammed shut in the lobby, echoing. I sat up, looking around the dark dining room. My candles had gone out. For a second, I thought someone had broken into the house and sat still, biting my lip, waiting.

"Lulu?" he slurred, stumbling blindly. I sighed, standing up to slide the dial up on the dimmer switches. Of course. Addie didn't really drink that often, but when he was out with his friends, he usually came home stinking drunk and it was honestly a miracle that he didn't get into an accident or something on the way back home. He had the tendency of blacking out if he drank too much - but it only happened once, and all he did then was sloppily try to make love to me, but since we had gone out together and I was just as drunk as he was, it didn't work out very well. We laughed about it in the morning. He pushed open the swinging door into the dining room. "What's - what's all this?"

"It's dinner," I said flatly as he leaned over the table, hand on his hip as I took in his rumpled appearance. His hair was all over the place, his shirt was wrinkled, and his shoes were untied. "Just so you know, it's almost ten-thirty." He looked at me, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And...?" He shrugged, rolling his eyes as he looked back down at his plate. "What the hell is this?"

"It's your favorite," I said, half confused. "I thought you liked - "

"This isn't anything. This is some cold, soggy excuse for dinner. How the hell am I supposed to eat this, Tallulah?" He picked up the plate, looking at me expectantly. I frowned - Addie could, occasionally, be snarky or have a bit of an attitude, but so did everyone else, but he was never ever mean or rude on purpose (he actually tried to be polite all the damn time, even when I was terribly angry with him) and only raised his voice at me maybe once or twice and very rarely called me by my first name - wondering why he was mad at me when all I did was cook him dinner and wait for him like he asked me to.

"Addie?"

"I work a long, hard day, Tallulah Mae. Almost a whole day, running from here to there and I don't get very many breaks. I hardly sleep. When I get home, all I ask that I have a nice, warm meal and a drink waiting for me. Is that too much to ask?" I stared at him stonily, wondering where his sudden change in attitude was coming from. The next thing I knew, the plate was whizzing past my head and crashed into the wall, painting it with cold potatoes, gravy, chicken, broccoli, and some rice. "I'm talking to you."

"I'm sorry, I just - "

"You just what, huh?" he asked, standing in front of me. "Just can't even make me dinner without somehow messing it up?"

"Addie - "

"Huh?"

Addie had, up until then, never as so much as laid a hand on me violently. If anything, he was quite the opposite. When he wanted to be affectionate, he almost overdid it. Snuggling and kissing and hugging and just walking in and picking me up just because he could didn't even begin to describe it. This wasn't anything like that. He was digging his fingers into my arms and it was starting to worry me just a tiny bit.

"You're hurting me," I protested, wincing as I tried slipping out of his grip.

"Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I wouldn't have to if you just made me a proper dinner like you're supposed to and - "

"Addie," I said harshly, staring at him. "Please stop." I could smell the liquor on him and it was making my stomach turn and flip.

"Don't interrupt me." He shook his head. "I'm trying to understand what exactly it is you do every day. Because you don't work. You don't have to work because I work. I'm the one who wakes up in the middle of the night every night to put food on the table. I'm the one who keeps you looking nice. I'm the one who takes you out to eat. I buy you things. I do this so you don't have to. Because you're my wife and I love you, but shit, girl, I'm trying to figure out if I have to make my own damn dinner too. Do I? Can't you even whip something up? You're home all day."

"You're really hurting me," I protested, trying to pry his fingers off of me. "You're drunk, okay? Let's just go to bed - "

"I'm not drunk," he hissed, pushing me into the wall. "I'm hungry and tired. But working all day tends to do that." He shrugged. "You wouldn't know anything about that."

"You won't let me work," I mumbled quietly. He laughed, shaking his head.

"You'd like that, huh? Going out, not doing anything here, leaving me to fend for myself? Meeting new people, new guys? Don't act like you haven't thought about it, Lulu." I started to cry and he held my cheeks tightly as I sniffled and shook - what was going on? - tutting at me quietly. "Stop that."

"You're hurting me and I haven't done anything - "

"That's the problem. You didn't do anything. I bet if I were to go to the bathroom, it'd be filthy. Are there a bunch of dishes in the sink? Did you even do the laundry? Didn't balance the checkbook, did you? Did you even make the bed?"

I hiccupped in response as he slapped me, hand cupping my stinging cheek.

"All I want is a simple dinner. That's it. I mean, I guess those other girls weren't really worth much, but at least they could cook and open their goddamn legs. Unlike you."

"Addie - "

"Don't whine. Please. I mean, did you eat at least? Of course you did. Look at you. Jesus. Can you start taking care of yourself a little better? My parents have been married for almost twenty-six years, and my mother still looks better than you. That's sad." He sighed and pressed his hand against my belly, almost squeezing and I only cried harder because he was just hurting the baby and he didn't even know. "I mean, maybe I should quit and send you to work, because, apparently, that's the only way anything's going to get done here." I stayed silent and he shoved me again. "Is that the only way things are going to get done here, huh?"

"No," I mumbled, shaking my head. "Stop."

"No?" I felt him thumbing one of my curls, tugging harshly. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, okay? I mean, if you won't do anything around here, will you at least do that?" I felt my stomach lurching again as a wave of nausea rolled over me again. "Lulu, you don't want to make me mad, do you? Look at me."

I looked at him begrudgingly. He ran a thumb over my lip and sighed.

"Now, we're not going to tell anyone about this, are we? They wouldn't understand. I love you just a little too much, I guess. Don't cry. You're not as pretty as you usually are when you cry. I can't stand it." He smiled and laughed a little - he laughed - and then took me by the hand and lead me out of the messy dining room.

I threw up on him when he tried kissing me in front of our bedroom. He just looked at me with a small frown, wiping at his shirt disdainfully, and told me we needed to get to the doctor soon and that I should make an appointment as soon as I could.

If only he knew.

I couldn't sleep. I just laid there and cried. He, of course, slept like a rock, like he always did. I couldn't stop crying - I was just in so much pain, everything hurt and I couldn't think and I just wanted Momma to kiss my forehead and pull a bunch of warm blankets around me and tell me I'd be alright and I wanted Addie to be my Addie again and I couldn't believe he had actually put his hands on me. He hit me and pushed me and he hurt the baby.

I was cramping. I knew. I just knew what was going to happen and I wanted to scream and cry but I couldn't even speak, it hurt, it all hurt and it hurt more to know that he did it because his dinner was cold (because he stayed out all night). I couldn't move. I simply curled up in my night shirt and held myself and cried and gasped quietly. I couldn't stop.

I woke up to Addie cursing quietly and nudging me, pulling off the covers.

"Honey? You okay?" I stayed quiet, sighing softly as I stilled. I had been entertaining the vague hope that maybe, just maybe, last night was one of his black out episodes and that he didn't remember what he had done (maybe I was trying to find a way to forgive him, or something, I don't know) and the more he asked me if I was okay and why I wasn't saying anything, the more I started to think that maybe he really had blacked out and couldn't remember what happened last night. "Lulu?" He kneeled on my side of the bed, resting his hand on my cheek. "What happened to you? Who did this to you?" I just stared at him and knit my eyebrows, trying to figure out what to say. "You're bleeding."

"No, I'm not," I managed to grit out slowly, shutting my eyes. I checked last night and he hadn't broken skin - just bruised me up a little.

"No, I mean bleeding," he said softly, pushing some of my hair behind my ear. "I was going to hug you and ask you what you wanted for breakfast and I got it all over me. Is it that time? Because you're really, really bleeding. I'm going to have to change the sheets. Can you sit up for me?"

"No. No, no, please no," I murmured quietly, starting to cry again. He frowned, hand stilling. "God, no."

"They're just sheets, honey. We have a bunch of them." Addie smiled (it was his smile, amused and pleasant and sweet and it only made me want to cry more) as he thumbed some curls lazily. "What about those blue ones with the flowers? You like those, don't you? Does it really hurt? I'm taking you to the doctor today. That's it."

"Please don't."

"Lulu - "

"I'm not going." He sighed, pushing some of his hair out of his face.

"How about a nice bath? Do you want me to run some water for you? It'll make you feel better." I bit my lip as another cramp hit, making me curl into myself and bury my face into my pillow. "Okay, okay. I'll run some water now. Are you sure you don't want me to call the doctor?" I shook my head and waited until he was down the hall before I screamed into my pillow and cried because all I wanted was this baby and he couldn't even let me have that.

I heard him walk back into the room by the time I had tired myself out. He started digging through drawers, sighing. He set some clothes on the bed and kneeled next to me again, squeezing my hand.

"Let's get you in that tub." I rested my head against his chest and sighed as he carried me down to the bathroom. "It's okay. I know it hurts, I know." He pushed the door open with his foot and sat me down on the lip of the tub, pulling my clothes of gingerly and tossing them in a corner before he eased me into the warm water. I glanced down and it was starting to tint pink (I was losing our baby and I couldn't even tell him). I closed my eyes and sank down up to my neck, biting my lip.

He sat me up and started to wash my back, fingers digging into me gently. There was such a contrast between how he acted the night before and how he was acting then. He was making my head spin.

"Do you remember last night?" I had to know. I just had to. He wouldn't hurt me on purpose. He just wouldn't. He rang out the wash cloth and started to run it down my arms.

"Not really? I think I had too much to drink. I went out with the guys... and then I drank and drank... and then I woke up in bed, with you. Did something happen?"

"I - " I paused as Addie looked at me, blue eyes clear and concerned. I couldn't tell him - I just couldn't. He'd never forgive himself. It was an accident. An accident. Maybe I wasn't meant to have a baby - and if I wasn't meant to, something else would have happened, I would have tripped or fell (I was terribly clumsy) and that would have been that. "I fell trying to change the light bulb in the kitchen." I smiled a little as he ran his hand down my leg. "I couldn't find the step stool, so I just stood on a chair. Silly me." He pressed a kiss to my head, smiling.

"You need to be careful, sweetheart."

Careful. I almost scoffed.