Push

30. She Listened to Advice

💔 CONTENT WARNING 💔
On-page discussion about past sexual assault.

GWEN

The bathroom door flew open, and I skittered across the tiles, stumbling in front of the toilet with barely a second to spare. The cheese and gherkin nibblies didn't look so good the second time around.

My whole world was off kilter.

I was burning up. I was freezing. Shaking. I didn't make it back to the sink to wash my face. The cold, tiled wall was as far as I got. I slid down and slumped in a heap in the corner.

Footsteps stopped outside the door. The handle turned, and without any strength to call out, I flattened myself against the wall and shielded my face with my shoulder.

"Gwen." Toby's voice was unbearably gentle.

"Go away," I managed to choke out.

His steps were cautious. "And miss the chance of reliving the glory days of your pregnancy?" He touched a hand to my shoulder before he reached past me to flush the toilet. "Not a chance."

He flicked on the faucet, grabbed a washcloth off the hook, and rinsed it under the water. He crouched behind me.

"Here," he said, all softness.

He held out the washcloth. A few drops of water plopped on the tiles as it dangled from his fingers until I grabbed it. I scrubbed it over my face. When I didn't pass it back to him, he gently pried it from my fingers, balled it up in his fist, and then shot it into the sink.

He was quiet for a moment before he sank to the floor behind me. There wasn't enough room for his legs to stretch out. Being all scrunched up didn't seem to bother him, but he was tentative, his hand pulling back before it settled on the curve of my belly. He tucked my head under his chin.

"How many mornings did we sit on the bathroom floor like this when you were pregnant?" he asked.

"Um..." I hid a smile. "All of them?"

"Yeah."

For a man talking about vomit, he sounded happy. Maybe he wished we could rewind time and live in those moments before the whole world turned upside down. I did.

"Gwen," he said, his voice all softness again. "You need to talk to someone." I started to protest, but he urged me to listen by whispering a shh in my ear. "I'm putting my foot down, doll. You're not okay. One mention of that bar, and you completely shut down. And it's not just the Ian thing. There's a lot of old news filling up space in your head. All the years dealing with your mother... And mine. Your old job. Probably your new one, too. I know it all weighs you down. I can see it in everything you do."

His words coiled tight around my chest. "You think I'm a failure—"

"How can you possibly fail at anything when you're always killing yourself to be so damn perfect all the time?"

"I need to be."

"You don't." Toby's sigh was all frustration. "Noah doesn't need to do six hundred activities a day, and even though you are Super Mum, you don't need to be. You sure as hell don't need to do a job that bores you to tears to earn uber dollars. You also don't need to drink those green smoothies I know you secretly hate because you're worried about fitting into your old clothes. Screw that. Buy new clothes." He squeezed the plump roll of my hip in his hand. "I think these new curvy bits are perfection even if you don't."

I batted away his words to only focus on the safe ones. "I don't hate the smoothies."

His chest rumbled with a laugh. "Tell that to your face the next time you drink one." He sighed. "I know what you did just then, doll. That's cool. I'll say what I need to say anyway, so listen up. You don't need to be perfect. No one is. No one can be. You come damn close, but god, even a Honda Buffalo Pro breaks down sometimes."