It’s five in the morning, but I have just about finished packing up all of the necessities into the hood of the Volkswagen. I feel terrible; I feel like absolute shit as I sneak back up to the apartment to grab one last box. I start throwing in a bunch of my clothes, knowing that Laurel will be up soon. I don’t intend to just disappear on her; I wouldn’t do that to her. I just figured going ahead and getting most of my things out of her hair would make this a little easier. Plus, she seems like the kind of woman who would set all my shit on fire.

Laurel comes wandering out of the bedroom as I finish up the last box. She’s wearing an old t-shirt and just her underwear; she likes to sleep comfortably, but it looks so sexy on her. She rubs her eyes, and she instantly sees the box. “What are you doing?” she asks, yawning slightly.

I hate this. I really hate this. “Hey,” I say, and she picks up on the terror in my tone. “We need to talk.”

She looks at me and then back at the box and then back at me. She shakes her head. “No,” she says angrily, “No, you’re not.”

It had not taken me long to decide what I needed to do. Brandi had just been by last night, so I’m sure it’s fresh on Laurel’s mind. She knows exactly what I’m doing. “Laurel, listen-” I start to say, and I step towards her.

I see it coming, but I don’t stop it. She slaps the shit out of me, and she’s no Brandi. Laurel has a serious swing. I don’t do anything about it, though. I just stand there staring back her, so she does it again. Damn, that hurts. There are tears starting to form in her eyes. Her hands form fists at her sides. “You’re just going to leave? Just like that?” she asks me. “That’s all it took? That’s all it took is for her to just show up, and you’re gone?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and she punches me in my chest hard enough that it makes me step back.

“You’re sorry? That’s it? You’re just leaving me?” she questions, and I see her eyes starting to water.

“What do you want me to say, Laurel?” I question. “She’s having my child. I’m going to be a father. She wants me to come home. If I can salvage my family, shouldn’t I?” She goes to slap me again, but this time I don’t just stand there and let her. I grab her wrists. “That’s enough!” I shout. “I’m not your damn punching bag!”

She starts crying, and I feel her head fall onto my chest. I loosen my grip, and she slowly slips her arms out of my grasp and wraps them around my waist. “Don’t leave,” she says, “please don’t leave.”

My throat tightens; I drop my arms and wrap her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry, Laurel,” I say and I lean down to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She pulls away from me, and I watch her wipe her cheeks. “Just go,” she says, her voice incredibly soft –her tone broken.

“Laurel-”

She holds upper hand, letting me know there is not a damn thing I can say to make her hurt go away. “Just go,” she says again, and I almost would have preferred that she sounded angry when she said it. She just sounds hurt.

I grab my box and take one last look at her; she’s so beautiful. She’s so kind. She’s truly wonderful, and I’m just going to walk out. I close the door behind me, and I can hear her bedroom door slam, and I picture her jumping onto her bed and burying her face into a pillow to scream. I drag my feet down the stairs to the main floor and out towards my car, throwing the last box into the back seat. I get into the driver’s seat and grip the steering wheel, but I don’t start the car.

Am I really doing this? I shake my head and crank the car, pulling out into the road to head to my old mansion where I know Brandi will be waiting for me. I’m so sorry, Laurel. I am so sorry.