Live, Laugh, Loathe

Chapter 21: Damon

I'm in agony.

Every night, I fall asleep, hoping Drew will wake up the next day wanting more between us. And every morning, I see it there, just as she wakes. In the half-second, before she's fully conscious, it's there.

Until it's gone. Her defenses are up, and that elusive emotion is shuttered, hidden away.

I want to ask. I want to push. I want to hash it out. But every time I get close, fear creeps in. We've reached this equilibrium, and soon the baby will be born, and that equilibrium will change. I can't risk her leaving before then.

So, I slowly die each day, knowing we're so close, so connected, yet miles apart.

She's finally reached the third trimester, and things are feeling urgent. The baby's room is not ready, though Francine finished the mural a few days ago. But now that it's nearly go-time, her energy levels are shot, so shopping for furniture and other baby items is just daunting.

I'm also working overtime to try to prepare for my own leave. When I'm not in my normal meetings, I'm meeting with the two executives who'll fill in for me on my daily duties. I'm also writing out every process and reminder I can think of. Which, for me, is incredibly difficult. And I can't rely on Drew for help either, as the pregnancy fog everyone jokes about has truly kicked in. Not to mention she's been working incredibly hard on shuffling my schedule around, so I only have to come in a few times during my leave. Basically, our work lives are chaos, which makes baby prep near impossible.

I'm hoping the baby shower we're having in a couple of weeks will give us a jumpstart. If not, my backup is just hiring someone to do it. Drew doesn't love that idea, but I know she also has nearly zero interest in doing it herself. And I just want the baby to have a crib and some clothes.

I'm jolted out of my hourly worry about the baby session by a knock on my office doorframe. Drew is standing there looking amused.

"I called your name like five times; what were you thinking about?" She's leaned against the frame, arms crossed under her chest. All the blood rushes to my groin.

"Just zoned out. What's up?" I have this feeling that I should know why she's here. Does she have an appointment with Patricia?

"I'm just reminding you that I'm leaving for that mom group thing, so I'll see you at home." Ah yes, Rachel's mom group that she's forcing Drew to join. Honestly, I think it will be good. Drew needs to get some time in with other moms her own age. Matilda is great, but yesterday I heard her suggesting Drew put a drop of whiskey into the nighttime bottles to help our baby sleep better.

Rachel is about one week from her due date, which has made Collin absolutely mental. The man calls me twice daily to tell me that baby Collin Jr. hasn't arrived yet. Don't worry; that's not the baby's name. It changes pretty much every time he calls me. I can't wait to see what they actually name the poor thing.

"Oh right, thank you for the reminder. Have fun." She smiles and turns back to her desk to pack up and leave. She seems excited.

Five minutes later, I get a call from Allison. I don't even have a chance to say anything beyond hello before she bursts into tears.

"Oh, God. Mr. Martinez, I'm so sorry!" I'm immediately alarmed.

"What's wrong? Allison, is Drew hurt?" Maybe she stopped to say hello on her way out and fell?

"No! Oh fuck. Oh crap. No, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you think that. But I'm still so sorry. This lady came in just now and was asking for Drew. She said she was Drew's mother. And I said, 'Oh, you just missed her. She left for her mothers supporting mothers group meeting. I bet if you call her on her cell, she can come right back'." She gasps, pulling in a sob. I have a million thoughts running through my head, none of which make sense right now.