Fight For Love

Part 31

"I asked you to stop doing that, stop running away every time things get too tough to talk about! Is this what you're going to do if we get married and just run away?" Paul asked in the car.

"I wanted to keep my emotions in check, unlike someone right now! If you don't want to get married because I'm not like Pam, I just don't blurt out everything I feel then fucking don't Paul! We don't need you and I wish I wasn't having your child, or that we ever met." You replied, turning to face the window.

"Are you going to act like a child, seriously? You don't love me now, and don't want to have my baby, well too bad, sweetheart, because you opened your legs to me. It wasn't a forced entry!" Paul snapped, pulling into the driveway of the house.

As soon as the car was parked, you jumped out and ran as fast as your body would let you through the garage door into the kitchen, hearing the guitarist slam the door behind you and follow your path up the stairs. You grabbed your suitcase from the top of the closet and pulled out all of your essentials, throwing them into the bag as quickly as possible. Paul leaned against the door frame, trying to not laugh at how escalated the situation had gotten.

"I'm not paying for you and my child to go to Oklahoma, so unless you have a secret account, your ass is staying here." Paul said sternly.

"I'm staying out in the guest house, and here take this back," You replied, slipping the ring off of your finger and sitting it on the dresser.

"Y/N, now let's get dramatic about this!" Paul snapped.

Paul attempted to grab your hand, but you turned around and shoved him, taking the guitarist by surprise. He sat down on the bed and grabbed the ring, listening as you stopped down the stairs and slammed the back door. Putting his hands in his hair, Paul tried to replay the fight in his head before your dramatic walk off. You had reminded him he had only seen a glimpse of the old you. His mind went back to seeing you take the medication for your anxiety, and when the two of you had made love for the first time, the scars that ran from your belly to your thighs.

The singer laid down against the bed, feeling like a complete idiot for the whole fight. Instead of listening, he had pushed you over the edge, and there would probably be no chance of salvaging the relationship again. He stood up and put the ring on the nightstand by his side of the bed, and pulled out the calendar scanning to see when Evan would be back at the house for Paul's visitation week.

"Great, I have two days to get her to talk to me, so it doesn't upset Evan," The singer groaned.

He shook his head, knowing the best way to get his thoughts back on track. Paul walked over to the closet and pulled out his running gear, along with his tape player. As the singer headed down the stairs, he noticed you outside of the guest house, rubbing your eyes before holding your camera up and taking a shot. Paul grinned to himself, knowing you were using your own skill to get through the pain.

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2 hours later,

Paul walked in the house finding you sitting on the couch, staring at a blank tv screen. The singer raised an eyebrow at you, but made his way to the kitchen for a bottle of water and to clean the sweat off of his face. Feeling his heart dip down to his stomach with sadness at everything that had happened in the last year with the relationship, and then the cruel words he said to you over the baby. Paul just wanted answers about why you went from overly excited about having a family to devastated. Slowly making his way to the oversize chair, he took a seat, glancing over at you.

You looked over at him with puffy eyes and a red blotch face, making the singer want to jump from the chair and cradle you in his arms to stop the pain you were going through, the pain Paul played a part of inflicted on you. The room stayed silent as both of you tried to think of what to say or do with the chaos. You leaned forward on the cushion of the couch, looking the guitarist sternly in the eye. Paul crossed his legs and folded his arms as you cleared your throat.

"You want to know why I fear finding out in a week what we are having, a girl or a boy, and why I said that you should have remembered who I was in Oklahoma when we first met and ran then? This conversation cannot turn into a screaming match. I can't take it anymore Paul, I miss what you made me feel like before, not the hot and cold that you do now." You said, frowning at him.

"If you want to talk to me one on one now, I will listen without interruption Y/N, or we can wait for the therapist. You are in control, just let me know how you want to drive this." Paul replied.

"No, there won't be couples' therapy. I won't do it. The doctors said I need to deal with the anxiety that's final. Paul, you bossing me around over everything, from the baby to my health, is too much to deal with. It makes me doubt myself as a person, making me pull away from you. I love you more than I thought possible. It's time you know the scars both physically and emotionally. Then I want space for a bit, Paul, for you to think if this relationship is worth it anymore." You stated.

"Y/N, it doesn't matter what you tell me. I still want to be your husband. This is the first pregnancy. It's okay to be nervous, and once you find out what you are carrying in your belly, I think ill easy you up." Paul replied.

"SHUT UP AND FUCKING LISTEN TO ME! STOP MAKING EVERYTHING BETTER, EVERYTHING IS NOT OKAY FOR ME! JUST PLEASE REALLY BE HERE FOR ME, LIKE IT WAS BEFORE THIS HAPPENED!" You screamed, tears streaming down your face

"Okay, I'm sorry, Jesus Christ! Open your mouth and fucking talk to me so we get on the same page." Paul replied.

"I'm bipolar." You snapped back.