The Vampire's Assistant

Chapter Twenty

The next evening, it was a different vampire who greeted me in my kitchen when I arrived home from work. As I walked in and sat my bag down, Pam stood against the counter, arms folded across her chest, with a self satisfied smirk on her face.

"That was shady, Pam, even for you," I said without preamble.

She shrugged and flipped her long hair over one shoulder. "Sometimes things just work out like they're supposed to. All I did was give it a little push."

"You could have warned me at least."

"I think everything worked out just fine," she purred.

I rolled my eyes and pulled a chair out from the table to sit my tired bones on. "Why didn't you tell him?" I asked curiously as Pam graciously retrieved a juice for me from the fridge.

"I didn't have to," she said simply, "He was already putting the pieces together. I figured if he needed confirmation, you ought to be the one to give it to him."

The basement door swung open just then and the subject of our conversation appeared. He was at the tail end of a phone call, pressing the button to end the call and sliding the phone into his pocket as he climbed the last step. His eyes brightened as they landed on Pam and I.

"Ladies," he greeted in his subtly smooth way.

He went to Pam first, tucking her hair behind her ear and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Thank you," he said, so softly I wouldn't have heard it with human ears. Pam nodded and with a sweet smile reserved only ever for her maker, she left us alone.

"How are you feeling this evening?" Eric asked, turning his attention to where I sat at the kitchen table.

"Tired, but otherwise fine," I answered, sipping my drink.

He took a seat at the table and looked across at me intently. "What did you do today that has you so tired?"

I laughed. "Just being awake and pregnant makes me tired. But work doesn't help either."

"Then quit," he said flippantly.

"It's kind of a universal truth that pregnant women get tired easily. I hardly think I need to quit my job over it."

"But there's no real need to keep it. You should be at home resting."

The comment was so offhand, so casual, it almost slipped by unchecked. Almost. "No real need to keep it?" I asked, bristling.

"We have plenty of money," Eric replied.

"You have plenty of money. I'm edging on comfortable."

He digested my words thoughtfully and after a long moment, he leaned across the table towards me. "Take all the time you need," he said, "I understand that it is going to take a long time for you to trust me again. But let's not pretend that we both don't already know what lies ahead of us. Don't deny yourself the comforts due to you because of your aversion to me."

He rose to his feet and I felt very small under his immense height. His hand reached down to softly stroke my cheek. "You are mine and I am yours," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "We have forever to figure the rest out."

Be it the hormones or perhaps my innate stubborn streak, Eric's words didn't have the effect he'd intended. His cavalier attitude and casual confidence that we were still a "we" and our future together was inevitable just rubbed me the wrong way. I couldn't lie to myself; I was relieved he knew the truth now and his solid, powerful presence was a comfort to have around. But I hadn't had time to really dwell on "us". I'd spent the last four months deliberately ignoring all thoughts of him, shoving my feelings down and burying them in a dark, far corner of my mind. Now they were crawling back out of that corner and all I knew was that I didn't know how I felt about anything anymore.

So, as Eric happily slid into the role of expectant father, all but buying out Babies-R-Us, assembling furniture, and baby-proofing the entire house, I detached myself from the heavy reality settling around me and moved through my days like a ghost. Eric knew it; even if it hadn't been obvious he could feel it through our reopened connection. But he didn't comment. He didn't push. He didn't say anything when I would shy away from his touch or put extra distance between us when he gave me his blood. He seemed to accept it with the brief resignation of a man biding his time until things go his way again.

But I just couldn't find it in me to slip back into that old rhythm, to let him back in. He'd hurt me more than I'd allowed myself to realize and his reemergence into my life put things into sharper perspective. He would always have his rightful place in the lives of our children; now that he was here I couldn't deny him that. But I wasn't so sure where he fit into my life anymore.

Eric stayed in New Orleans, usually spending his nights at my house, but sometimes not. I didn't question him; we weren't in that place anymore. But I did wonder how he was managing his duties in Shreveport and where he went off to on the nights he wasn't around until just before the sunrise. I hated the part of my brain that whispered that he probably had a woman somewhere... if not women. It wasn't my business and anyway, why should I care if he did? Despite what he said, Eric Northman wasn't mine to lay claim to anymore. I had no doubt he'd been balls deep in some fangbanger before I'd even left Shreveport.

When I returned home from work one night to find the house empty for the first time in days, my mind buzzed with the possibilities. Losing the fight against my jealous thoughts and hating myself for even having them, I took a long bath and crawled right into bed. But I didn't find the solace I sought in sleep. My unconscious mind was plagued by dreams of that night, that awful night, when everything fell apart. The dreams manifested in flashes of sensation and fleeting impressions; the cool tile floor against my face, the wastebasket full of pregnancy tests, Eric's cold glare, his hand on my throat, his silhouette as he walked out my door. In my dream, I cried out to him, begged him not to go, but my voice was just a soundless scream and I watched helplessly as he walked away over and over again.

I woke with a strangled gasp, my mouth dry and my cheeks wet with tears. My heart thudded heavily against my ribcage and I sat up, breathing slow and deep to calm myself down. I saw him then, just a dark shadow against the faint light of the doorway. I wondered what he had heard or felt while I dreamed.

"Abby..." he spoke softly, hesitantly. There was pain in his voice.

"I'm fine," I said, not giving him the chance to say anything more. I rolled onto my side, my back to the door and held my breath waiting for him to leave. After a long, tense moment, I heard the door gently close and his footsteps faded down the hall.