I Do I Did

Twenty Seven

Meagan calmed down. She was done crying. It wasn't helping her at all. It only made her seem weak. And she was no weak bitch. She stood up from the bed. Wiping her wet eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

She turned around to see the damage in the mirror. Her eyes weren't as puffy or red as she thought they would be. Using her fingers, she teased her hair. She couldn't go to Pete looking like she'd been crying. She needed to come off as calm and understanding.

She adjusted the shirt she was wearing. Her hand brushing against the ever growing roundness of her stomach. Her palm flattened against it. Rubbing slightly.

"Don't you worry little guy." She whispered. "Mama is going to get rid of the trouble making fat ass. And we're going to be a happy family again."

The baby moved slightly. Excited by the touch of a hand and the sound of the familiar voice. Meagan smiled at the feeling.

"You'd better be a cutie." She cooed. "I didn't lose my fucking model body just to push out some ugly little creature." Her laugh took the blow from the words.

She glanced in the mirror one final time before walking out of the room. She knew Pete was either in his office or in Patrick's room. She hoped for the former as she traveled to the door. Stopping when she heard voices inside.

Relief filled her. Thank god he wasn't with Patrick. He was probably talking business with Ryan.

Curiosity got the better of her. She leaned in closer. Pressing her ear against the door. She heard Pete's voice. But the other voice she heard wasn't Ryan's. She held her breath in attempt to get a better listen. It was Brendon. That little shit.

"You're going to go in there and tell him that you're sorry. And that you're divorcing Meagan."

Meagan's eyes widened at the words. Divorce? He was going to divorce her? There was no way hell. Brendon must be talking out of his ass as usual. Damnit, she couldn't stand that little fruitcake.

"Okay." Came Pete's reply.

Okay? Okay?! She pushed away from the door. Not bothering to hear the rest of the conversation. She'd heard all the needed to. That ungrateful bastard was going to divorce her. Her! The perfect model. For some basic ass wannabe painter.

Yeah. Over her dead body.

She'd worked too hard and too long forming herself into Pete's perfect woman. Dressing and acting as he wanted her to. Even taking those damn cooking lessons. Spent countless nights holding him as he cried over his dead husband. Who, come to find out, wasn't even fucking dead!

Meagan wasn't about to let her lavish lifestyle be snatched away from her. Not at the hands of some four eyed fuck. She was staying a Wentz. No one was going to change that. Not even the man who gave her the name himself.

She just needed to find a way to stall his plans. What would distract him long enough for her to be able to take care of Patrick? It had to be something relatively important. But not big enough that it would seem suspicious.

The doorknob jiggled. Meagan quickly backed a few steps away from the door. She glanced down at the lobby from where she was standing. In an attempt to look like she was doing anything besides listening to their conversation.

The door opened and closed again. She glanced quickly to her side. Hoping she didn't look too obvious. She saw Brendon walk past her and head down the stairs.

They made brief eye contact. Brendon smirked slightly. That cocky like gay. He was probably so proud of himself. Going in there and brainwashing her husband. Meagan smiled right back at him. There was no way she was going down so easy. Brendon had no idea who he was up against.

She waited until he was fully down the stair and out of sight. She walked quietly back to Pete's door. About to press her ear agaisnt it again when it swung open. Hitting her in the head and causing her to stumble back a little.

But then an idea hit her. This was her chance. She just needed to play it up a bit. She tossed her body backwards. Landing sideways. Her stomach grazed the ground. She said a silent apology to her baby for making herself fall against him.

Pete gasped. Immediately dropping to his knees at her side. Concern etched in every corner of his perfect, betraying face.

"Meagan! Are you okay?"

"I- I Ahh my stomach." She groaned in mock pain. Her face twisted in theatrical agony.

"I'm so sorry. I- Why were you standing so close to my door? You're not even supposed to go near my office."

He rubbed her long hair back from her forehead. Searching her face for answers. His other hand dropping to rest against her stomach.

"Ouch, Pete." She moaned in despair.

"What's wrong?" The panic was clear in his voice.

"The baby. I-He- it hurts. So so bad."

The panic was quickly replaced with pure horror. Both Pete's hands were on her stomach now. Meagan hoped like hell their active little boy wouldn't move. Be good and play hurt for mama.

"I-I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean-"

"You hurt me." She let her voice break.

Pete's lip quivered. "I didn't mean-"

"You hurt us." She said in a weaker tone. Letting her head fall back in 'pain'.

"No!" He whispered harshly.

She might be overdoing it but she knew Pete wouldn't notice. He was too worried and afraid. She almost felt bad for fooling him. Almost. The asshole was going to leave her. What else could she do?

"Why would you hurt us?" Meagan asked in as low a voice as she could. She wasn't talking about falling anymore, but Pete didn't know that.

His eyes stared down at her face. Tears glistening in their hazel specks.

"I'll never hurt you two again."

Meagan almost smiled.

"Do you swear?"

"I-I-"

"Do you fucking swear?" Her voice hardened.

"I swear." He whispered. His head turned towards the stairs. "Ryan, call a fucking ambulance! Meagan fell!"