Kimber

It’s been five days and I haven’t mentioned Julián’s family and neither has he. I don’t like secrets and he knows it so I’m left to believe there’s nothing more to talk about.

It doesn’t feel like nothing, though. If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that ignoring things doesn’t make them go away – not permanently, anyway.

Every day he comes home more on edge than the day before and every day he finds a new way to ask if anyone has stopped by the house while he was at work. It’s Saturday and we are going to Drake and Tiana’s for a cookout tonight. I want to relax and have a normal evening with new friends but he’s going to have to spill about who he’s expecting to show up before we go.

Leaving the house with a baby is a monumental event, even if it is just across the street to the neighbors. I have Grayson’s bag and stroller packed and he is dressed in a lightweight onesie that says Sleep Sold Separately. Man, ain’t that the truth. I thought sleeping when I was nine months pregnant was hard, waking up every hour to pee, tucking pillows between my legs and behind my back to get comfortable. At least I got to go back to sleep, this guy has 0700 hours and 1900 hours mixed up.

Julián assures me it’s normal for Grayson to eat every three hours and mix up his days and nights. The problem with that is he doesn’t have to stay awake to feed him and he gets to trot off to work everyday fresh as a daisy while I prop toothpicks in my eyelids to take care of Grayson. My mother cut her visits to every other day this week at my idiotic insistence. I thought I needed to start handling things more on my own, and I do, it’s just an adjustment.

Julián’s great, though, he does his best to let me nap when he gets home. He misses me, though, I think most of the time he has seen me this week my eyes have been closed.

“You almost ready?” he says sauntering into the kitchen dressed in jean shorts and a white fitted T-shirt that hugs the impeccable muscles of his chest, shoulders, and biceps. His hair is still damp and the tops of his cheekbones are a little burnt after he mowed the yard this afternoon. He got a full summer’s worth of a tan in one day. It’s not fair.

“Yes, all set but I wanted to talk about something before we go.”

He bends down to make a goofy face at Grayson, “Sure, what’s up?” He keeps his eyes trained on the baby as he speaks.

“We never finished talking about your family the other day.” I’m holding onto the handle of the stroller watching him carefully. He never looks up but I see his muscles in his shoulders twitch. I was right, there is something he doesn’t want to talk about.

“That’s because there isn’t anything else to say. I told you, babe, we aren’t close so it’s no big deal.”

“It feels like you’re keeping something from me, Julián.”

He straightens up and shoves his hands back into his pockets. He has deep frown lines between his eyes when he looks past me into the kitchen.

“Okay, I am but it’s not about my family. I don’t really want to talk about it especially before we go across the street to hang out with the neighbors but I know you and you aren’t going to let this go until I do, are you?”

“Nope.”

He steps forward and takes me by the arm to lead me to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair for me. He turns the stroller around so we can see Grayson and he sits down next to me. I’m becoming increasingly nervous, maybe I don’t want to talk after all.

“You’re scaring me.”

His hand comes up to cover mine on the table, “I’m not trying to but this isn’t easy for me to say and it’s not going to be easy for you to hear, so I think we should sit.”

“Okay, spit it out, Garcia.”

“I had a visitor on Monday at the base.”

“Who?”

“It was Caleb.”

Caleb? Why on earth would he show up in Julián’s office? I haven’t spoken to him since the wedding in California almost six months ago.

“Why?”

He bites his lip and shifts in his chair. “I think he might be interested in being part of Grayson’s life.”

It’s like someone sucker punched me in the gut. I sit back in my chair and blow out all the air in my lungs.

“He wanted me to mention it to you. I told him not to be a fucking pussy and that he should talk to you himself. Obviously, he hasn’t figured out a way to do that yet.”

“But, I don’t understand… Why? He didn’t even return my call when I left him a message that Grayson had been born. He never came to the hospital…”

Hot tears fill my eyes and right away I regret pushing him to talk about this. I don’t want to think about sharing Grayson with Caleb.

“I don’t know, baby, I asked him but all he gave me was a bunch of flimsy bullshit excuses about not being ready and wanting to be a stand up guy. He has an ulterior motive, I don’t know what it is but I feel it.”

“He left me because he didn’t want to have a baby. He got his freedom and his slutty girlfriend. I gave him what he wanted without so much as an argument. I didn’t want to be with a man who didn’t want to claim his own child. He accused me of trapping him with a baby! How the hell does a wife trap her husband when we were already fucking married!”

I’m so mad I can’t even allow myself to cry. I stand up and pace the length of the kitchen. Julián tries to catch my wrist and bring me back to the table but I’m full of nervous energy. I bite my lip and cross my arms over my chest. He can’t have my baby. He’s mine. He didn’t want him. Julián is his father, he wanted him more than his biological father ever did and he deserves him, not Caleb.

“Come here,” he says standing and pulling me into his arms. I press my cheek against his chest and listen to his heart pound. He’s upset, too. Caleb is trying to butt in and ruin what we have together, but why?

“We will work this out together, don’t worry. He’s such a fuck up maybe he already changed his mind, I haven’t heard anything from him since Monday.”

I turn and press my forehead to his chest already feeling defeated. If he wants custody, he will probably get it. He’s a Marine, and his parents are supportive, he doesn’t have a police record, hell, he’s never even had a speeding ticket. There isn’t anything keeping him from taking him away. Except that he divorced me over the pregnancy. It’s well documented that we had irreconcilable differences in opinion on having children. That was the basis of our divorce for God’s sake.

Grayson squirms in his stroller, I lean down to replace his wayward pacifier and examine his face. There is some Caleb there, he favors me for sure but I see it.

“He won’t forget. I know Caleb, when he latches on to an idea he won’t let go until he gets what he wants.”

“I’ve contacted my lawyer, just in case. He is looking into it to see if there are any loopholes but he says it doesn’t look good. Even with the divorce being about having children he can simply say he had a change of heart.”

I push away from him and hold my head up high thrusting my stubborn chin out. Maybe we can dig up some dirt on him, make him look bad, unfit to be a father.”

“Weren’t you the one who thought he deserved a chance to claim Grayson?”

“Yeah, when he was born, not almost a month later. Did he say he was coming to see me? Is that why you’ve been on pins and needles all week?”

“No, but I figured he might.”

“Let’s go, I don’t want to think about this anymore. I need a good stiff drink.”

“What about breastfeeding?” he reminds me. Caleb would never remind me of the dangers of breastfeeding a baby after drinking alcohol. Caleb doesn’t know shit about babies.

“Pump and dump. I have a couple days’ supply in the freezer, we’re fine.”

“You sure you’re okay? You don’t want to talk about it anymore?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“No, of course not, I don’t want to talk about it either but I’m not sure if drinking is the solution.”

“There is no solution, but a couple of drinks will take the sting out.”

“Alright, lead the way, mama.” He sweeps his arm in the direction of the front door and I push the stroller down the hall. In the living room he steps around me to open the door. I kiss him when I pass. He’s such an awesome man, if anyone can handle this it’s him.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, ready for a margarita?’

“Ready.”