I arrive home after having my breakfast at the café, and Brandi is up and moving around. She looks exhausted even after sleeping in a bit this morning, but it’s not like I can blame her for that. I know if I was carrying that much extra weight around with the added stress of hormones, swollen feet, and occasional morning sickness I would be exhausted too. She’s seated out on the patio; there is a cool breeze today, so I’m sure it feels good to her. Her feet are propped up on a second chair as she enjoys a late breakfast of freshly made scones.

“Morning,” she says drearily as I plop myself down beside her.

“Morning,” I say back.

“So what did you go do this morning exactly?” she says with a yawn. “I was half asleep when you told me what you were off to do.”

“I went to see Officer Carpenter,” I say.

“Who?” she questions.

“Officer Carpenter,” I say again, “he’s the one leading up the murder investigation.”

She puts her feet down and sits upright. “What did he say?”

“They caught the guy who killed Gabe,” I say.

Her eyebrows appear to almost jump. “Really? That’s great, Jonathan.”

“Not really,” I say. “The guy was a hitman, and he’s not talking. Someone hired him… to kill me.”

“Oh my God!” she covers her mouth to keep from spitting out a bite of scone. She grabs her napkin and wipes her lips. “Who would want to kill you?”

“Someone who couldn’t do it themselves, apparently,” I say smugly. “I don’t know, Brandi. I just wish this could be over with, but it’s not. When Carpenter told me they caught the guy, I thought it was over, but then he tells me that this guy who they have in custody is just part of a bigger thing, well, it’s making me sick.”

I feel Brandi’s hand reach out and touch my knee. She offers me a sympathetic and reassuring smile. “They will find out who did this, Jonathan,” she asserts, but it does not exactly make me feel better. “Are you safe right now?” she asks.

“They are going to have a patrol car sitting out in front of the house at night,” I say. “Just in case whoever is behind this tries to, well, finish the job himself. I can’t help but to feel guilty. Gabe wasn’t even the one who was supposed to die.”

“You can’t keep blaming yourself,” she says, but her words are somewhat shallow after she had once thrown the blame of Gabe’s death towards me; it had been something she had said out of anger, but it’s on the forefront of my mind now that Gabe’s murder has once again been brought back to my attention. I shift slightly so that she will remove her hand from my knee and sit myself up straight. I shouldn’t be acting cold towards her; I know I’m really the one to blame for our relationship going to shit. The drinking, the failed career, and me losing my head in the locker room after a match –those were all things that I had done. Brandi didn’t do a thing except realize she deserved better. My friends say she should have been there for me when my addiction got the better of me, but should she have really put herself through that? She was probably just thinking about what was best for our baby, and at the time the best was certainly not me. Yet, I still feel this slight resentment towards some of the things that were said and done, and I can’t help but to think of how compassionate Laurel had been. Laurel had pulled me out of my hole. She and Tyler and Bobby and Marty….they were the ones who had helped me get better –not Brandi. Brandi just opted out when shit hit the fan and then got with the one person I probably hate the most, just to be an ass towards me.

She looks so beautiful sitting there, trying her best to reassure me. Why can’t I help but feeling that it’s all fake? I feel like we’re just two kids playing house in this giant mansion. With Laurel it had felt real, but I feel obligated to stay with Brandi. I know I should. I want to feel the way I used to feel about her, but I just don’t. I wouldn’t say I don’t love her, because I do, but I just don’t feel that same wonderful, so-happy-in-love feeling I used to. I feel resentful. I feel betrayed. Will these feelings ever go away?

I look at her round belly, and I feel a sense of relief. My daughter will be here soon, and I’ll have something else to focus on for a while. At the moment, it’s just another thing I have to worry about. I’m not sure if I’ll even make a decent father, or if that will just be something else for me to screw up.

“Jonathan, do you want to set up the nursery today?” Brandi asks, snapping me out of my haze.

I smile. “Yeah, let’s do that. That’d be nice,” I say, glad to be assigned a task I can focus on instead of allowing my thoughts and anxieties to drag me down yet again.