To Forgive a Liar

Chapter Two

"This has all been okay so far, right?"

"Fuck, yeah. It's phenomenal. How'd you manage to get us such a nice view, anyways?"

"Good ol' fashioned persuasion."

You sighed at Trevor's brag. "You physically threatened the desk guy, didn't you?"

"Of course not. I physically threatened the desk guy's manager."

Two days ago, you'd married Trevor in Colter, Ambarino. Yesterday you, him, and your son had travelled from there to an island in the Caribbean, east of Cuba, called Guarma. Trevor didn't want Brad to come with, claiming this wasn't a family vacation, but you couldn't bear the thought of leaving your poor baby alone for a week knowing how unhappy he always was without you. Trevor he could live without, but even being in a different room than you would cause crying fits and outbursts that never happened when you were around.

The honeymoon suite Trevor had 'persuaded' the manager to let you stay in had the works: a massive bathroom with a four-headed shower and a jacuzzi, a living room, a kitchen, a deck, and two one-way windows taking up entire walls with a breathtaking view of the ocean in both the bedroom and off the porch. As a compromise with Trevor, Brad had his crib set up in the living room so you and Trevor could have privacy in the bedroom. Having Brad sleeping in a different room had worked to your advantage twice already, and you were hoping it would keep working. You missed having him by your side and it was a pain in the ass to get up and move every time he was hungry or wanted to be comforted, but spending time with Trevor was nice, too.

"You realize that could have backfired on us so badly, right?" You were referring to Trevor's tactics of getting the nicest room in the resort.

"'Could have', sugar. Not 'didn't'." Trevor passive-aggressively smiled at you and rolled out of bed. "Time for my post-fuck piss. I think we should go visit the beach today and play around in the ocean, dwell on that for a minute." He patted your shoulder and left to use the restroom.

As if on cue, you heard Brad begin fussing; the fussing quickly turned into crying as soon as he realized you weren't there. You threw on some clothes and went to his side; even though the windows were one-way, the views made you feel exposed. Brad had panic written on his face as he babbled something unintelligible between gasps for air. "Hey, sweetheart, you're okay," you reassured him, picking him and laying him onto the ground. As you changed his diaper, he swiftly recomposed himself into the usual giggly, happy baby he loved to be. "I'd be fussy too if I woke up with that much poop in my pants," you sympathized. "You hungry, Brad?"

Of course, he didn't say anything decipherable; he just belted out a noise of satisfaction and stared at you. "Let's see what you think of mangoes." There was a basket of assorted fruits on the table, and once the soft fruit had been thoroughly cut into very tiny pieces, you put Brad in his high chair, strapped a bib onto him, and offered some to him. He'd had two front teeth, one upper and one lower, grow in recently, and it seemed there was another one that would be erupting in the following weeks. "You gotta chew on it before you swallow, okay?"

Brad ate a few cubes with no issue, but didn't seem to want the rest of them. He began slapping the high table tray while staring at you, crinkling his nose, and frowning. "Alright, looks like you're all done..." You cleaned his sticky hands off with a wipe, then picked him up. Good thing I wiped his hands, you realized as he immediately started to paw at the neckline of your shirt. "If you'll just let me grab some food and find a place to sit, man, I'll take it off and let you have at it. Give me a second," you begged. A banana was hastily grabbed from the fruit bowl, and you chose to crawl back into bed to eat. You took your shirt off and began to peel the banana while Brad all but crammed your boob into his mouth. "Teeth," you hissed between bites. You took a piece off the banana and tried offering it to Brad, but he wasn't interested.