“What the fuck did I tell you, Charity? Get rid of it, I’m not fucking being a father to a kid that I don’t want. Fuck! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“No!” I cry, saying that word for what feels like the millionth time. “I warned you to put a condom on the last time we had sex, but you refused.”
I’m at my boyfriend Blake’s apartment. Blake and I have been going out for a year, but in the last two months he’s changed. He won an MMA fight a few months back against the champion, and it’s all just gotten to his head. We can’t go out in public anymore without women wanting an autograph. I didn’t sign up for this. I can’t compare to these women who have their tits hanging out, and skirts so short you can see their butt if they lean over.
That night, after the fight, we went out and got a little drunk. Blake had his friends with him, or what I like to call his entourage, and I had Hazel, my best friend from college. After a night of fun and drinks, we went back to Blake’s apartment and continued celebrating. Only problem was we were a little wasted, and when I asked Blake to put a condom on, it was too late; he’d already come inside of me. I didn’t really worry too much about it, I mean it was only the one time, but that’s all it took. One time without any protection to make me fall pregnant.
After a long talk with Hazel, she convinced me that I needed to tell Blake he was going be a father. I knew he didn’t want kids now, he’s just got his career going, but I took the leap of faith and told him. It saddens me to say that I did think about getting an abortion, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t kill an innocent baby just because we had one night of drunk sex. It wasn’t the baby’s fault.
Last night I stayed with Hazel’s at our dorm and cried in her arms, too scared of what this baby might do to my relationship with Blake. Would I lose him? Or would he embrace me in his arms, telling me everything was going to be okay? Now that he’s an MMA champion, he had plans for us to travel, for him to fight in many countries, and I’ve always wanted what he wanted. I mean, I’m studying to be a lawyer alongside Hazel, and I have my own dreams, but I love Blake and wanted to make him happy. So when he said he’d got a fight in LA in two months, I was thrilled for him, and we both decided I would leave college and go to LA with him. Even though I’d miss my friends and parents, I wanted to do this for him. Hazel had tried to convince me otherwise, said I should finish my studies as I’ve come so far, but I can always take it up again when we return from LA. Blake seems to think we will stay in LA for six months, so keeping up with my studies wasn’t going to work.
I knew when I broke the news to Blake he wasn’t going to be happy, but there was a little part of me that hoped he would want this baby as much as I do.
“You gotta be fucking kidding if you think you’re gonna keep this baby, babe. I’m not ready to be a father—actually, I don’t know if I will ever be ready.”
Him standing by his apartment window in nothing but sweats, reminds me of the first time I saw him fighting. Hazel and I had just finished our exams and went out to celebrate. While on our way by foot to a bar, we passed a long line of people who were queuing up to get inside a club. Well, that’s what I’d thought. When Hazel and I stopped and questioned a girl, asking what was going on, she smiled dreamily and said, “Blake Reynolds is fighting tonight, and he’s so hot.” I’d looked down at the line again and noticed the majority of the people waiting were female.
Hazel pulled me into the line and said, “Let’s go watch a fight.” I didn’t even know what MMA was, or fighting for that matter, but neither did Hazel, and that didn’t stop us from lining up to see the fight ourselves.
Hazel has mentioned her brother Kane is an MMA fighter. He tried to keep that information from her, but she knew what he was up to. I’ve never met him, but he sounds like someone who loves Hazel, and would do anything for her. Unfortunately I have no brothers or sisters, so Hazel is the closest thing I have to a sibling.
Once we had finally gotten into the club, we’d taken a seat in the crowd, and I would never forget the cheers that echoed around the room, cheering Blake on. He was magnificent—bulging muscles, cut abs, and the hottest tattoos I had ever seen covering his arms. I may have never seen a fight before, but that night was the beginning of my obsession with MMA fighting. Well, the fighters themselves, that is.
Blake’s eyes made contact with mine in the crowd that night, and he’d smiled. Out of all the beautiful women who surrounded him, it was me he chose that night. The fact I’m not ugly, and have been told before that I’m quite beautiful, with brown long hair, bright blue eyes, and plump lips, didn’t mean a thing. I still had to look around me to make sure the smile was aimed at me. And it was.
Throughout the whole fight, my gaze was fixed on him; the way he moved so swiftly on his feet, how he jabbed forcefully, like lightning striking, at the other competitor was hypnotic. His feet glided on the floor, and he was very skilled at ducking from each of the opponent’s punches. The way his leg muscles flexed and his arms bulged when he took a punch or a kick had me on the edge of my seat. Blake would look over to me now and then, and Hazel kept teasing me about it. I tried to assure her he didn’t mean anything by it, but when the fight was over, and Hazel and I were downstairs having a drink, he had sought me out, and ended up buying me a drink. Blake may have looked hot in the ring, but Blake, showered and dressed, with his hair still wet, was way hotter.
“Do you think I did this on purpose, Blake? You know it takes two, don’t you?” I scream at him. Tears stream down my face, and I fall onto the couch, bringing my knees up to my chin and hugging them into me.
Blake’s phone rings and he looks at the screen, answering it immediately. “Hey, Zeek. Yeah, I’ll be there. In an hour, okay? Okay, see you then.”
Hanging up, he places his phone on the nearby kitchen bench, and then walks toward me. He leans down, gently kissing me. “We’ll talk about this later,” he says, though it’s more an order than a question. He then gets up and walks toward his bedroom. His back is glistening with sweat from his recent workout.
“Where are you going?” I ask, swiping away my tears.
Yelling from his bedroom, he replies, “Going to the club. Zeek and some of the boys will be there.” Zeek is his manager, and head man in the entourage.
Dropping my knees down from my chest, I get up from the couch and storm to the bedroom, pissed that he’s going out after I just broke the news to him. He’s naked and heading into the shower, but I stall him, shouting, “You’re going out for drinks? I’ve just told you I’m pregnant, I’m crying, Blake, and you are going out for drinks?”
Rage fills me, and I watch as Blake gets a fresh towel from the cupboard just outside the bathroom and places it on the hook beside the shower, then turns the faucet on, completely ignoring my outburst.
“Blake,” I say, feeling so defeated. He stops, finally, his back tensing, and turns his fully naked frame toward me. His body is magnificent, I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfect it is, but I’m pissed that he’s leaving me when I need him the most.
“You’re so dramatic, babe. I’m just going out,” he says casually, shrugging his shoulders.
“But…. But….” Covering my face with my hands, I start crying again. God, being pregnant is really messing with my emotions. I hear the patter of his feet approaching and remove my hands from my face when his arms wrap around me. I look up at him. God, he’s gorgeous. I always thought that I was one of the luckiest girls on this planet because he chose me, but now I feel empty, lost. He leans in and kisses me deeply; his bare cock hard against my belly has me moaning into his mouth. I want him. I always want him. I move my hands up to run them through his messy blond hair and open up to him even more, allowing his mouth to seek out mine.
Suddenly, a loud smack echoes in the room and heat builds on my left buttcheek. “Gotta go, babe, the boys are waiting for me.”
Shocked that he’s still going out, despite my obvious distress, I watch him saunter back to the bathroom and step into the shower. He turns to face me, smiling. “You can join me if you want, but it’s gotta be quick.”
I’m feeling so damn frustrated—one, that he’s leaving, two, that he’s totally ignoring the fact we are having a baby, and three, that he thinks a quick fuck is going to fix this. I don’t think so.
Standing to my full height, I reply, “No thanks, I’m leaving, Blake.”
He ignores me. The bathroom is an open-plan room with no door and is connected to the bedroom. There’s also no glass or walls surrounding the shower, just tiles and a glass splash back.
He turns to face me, the water now cascading down his back and dripping over his shoulders down to his abs, then into his light blond pubic hair, which is trimmed and frames his cock. “You’re not going anywhere, Charity. When I get home, I want you here.”
I walk closer, my eyes not leaving his because if I do look further down his body, I might become weak and take him up on his offer of a quick fuck.
“You can’t ignore this baby, Blake, we’re having a child together, whether you like it or not.”
Not listening to me once again, he continues to shampoo his hair then lathers his body with body wash. I stand there waiting for a reply—anything—but I get none. Closing the faucet, he steps out and grabs the towel and wraps it around his waist. He shakes his head, causing water to spray around him and on me, then runs his hands through it a couple of times.
Finally he turns his attention to me, hands on hips with his muscles stiff. He growls out, “Don’t you tell me what we are doing, there is no we, Charity. You get rid of the baby, or I’ll get rid of it for you.”
Gasping at his threatening words, fear ripping through me, my body freezes. Blake walks right past me, and with a deliberate nudge nearly drops me to the floor.
Scared and angry, I manage to say, “You wouldn’t.”
He lets the towel drop to the floor and grabs some underwear from a drawer, pulling them on quickly and efficiently. Not bothering to dry his torso, he opens another drawer and grabs out a black Ralph Lauren polo, pulling it over his head, a pair of dark denim jeans buttoned at the fly completing his outfit. Continuing to ignore me, he retrieves socks and his Nike’s and places them on his feet, continuing on to the bathroom to splash some cologne on his face and neck and style his hair with product. I watch all of this with a level of detachment, like I can’t believe it’s happening.
Obviously happy with the final result, he walks back toward me, his features set in stone. I can’t help but step back away from him—that is until my body hits a wall. With his face only inches away from mine now, he narrows his eyes at me and growls, “Don’t fucking test me, Charity. You will do as I say.”
I don’t have time to respond because he’s smashing his lips against mine, in an act that proves to me how strong he is. He pulls back finally, and I can taste copper from his rough kiss.
“Now, I’m going out, and when I get back, you better be here. Because I will find you, and I will make you pay if you leave me.”
Swallowing hard, pure fear now running through me, I don’t respond. I can’t.
“I’ll see you soon,” he states like it’s a given, but I’m frozen to the spot. Who is this man? What happened to the Blake who was playful and loving? The man I fell in love with?
Not saying another word, Blake leaves the bedroom, and I hear the front door shut as he exits the apartment. I drop to the floor and let the tears spill out. The sound of his Maserati roaring to life breaks through my sobs, and his tires burn rubber as he speeds around the corner, away from the building.
“Oh God, what do I do?” I say into the silent apartment. I want to call Hazel to come and get me, but I can’t get her involved in this. Plus, I’m too far from our dorm. Blake wouldn’t do anything to hurt me…? Right? He just needs time to adjust to the news. No, he wouldn’t hurt me. He loves me, I try to convince myself.
Agreeing that I may have overreacted, I get up off the floor and decide that tomorrow is a new day, and I’ll put his behavior down to the fact he’s just tired and stressed and needs some time. Heading to the kitchen, I make myself a sandwich for dinner. I’ve been craving peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with my pregnancy, and I can’t get enough of them.
Later on I decide to have a shower myself, and let the stress of everything wash away. Tomorrow’s another day, I keep repeating in my head. “Daddy will come around, you’ll see,” I whisper down at my stomach, letting my hands run circles there.
I dry myself and change into one of Blake’s T-shirts that hangs to my knees, and as usual, no underwear. I dry my hair before I sink into bed and turn on the TV, checking out what’s on Netflix. I decide on a chick flick—The Notebook—and it’s not long till I’m crying at the ending.
Yawning and feeling sleepy, I check the time and notice it’s just after midnight. Blake’s not home yet. Not able to keep my eyes open any longer, I let sleep claim me and drift off into a deep slumber.