Two weeks of nightmare life, all down to me, my moods and erratic behavior that has tested every
single ounce of Arricks patience. I think he’s literally seen every bad version of me there is and then
some, and I can’t help it.
The idea that I am pregnant has well and truly sunk in, but I don’t love it any more than I did and feel a
huge sense of resentment that I have to stay here while he flies home today to do whatever he needs
to do. In the end Jake couldn’t sway his father to change the plans as he is digging his heels in. I think
he is punishing Arrick over leaving the company and using his last weeks as a weapon to piss him off.
We haven’t told anyone except Jake and Emma about the baby yet, sworn them to the upmost secrecy
and I wouldn’t even talk to her on the phone about it. I’m not ready for sweet cozy chats about
motherhood. I don’t want all that happiness and congratulations aimed at me when all I can think about
is how shitty this is.
I tried to raise a conversation about our other options with him a few days after those tests and we had
a nuclear fight that pretty much told me that adoption, termination or any other avenue, is a no go. He’s
set on his decision to have this kid and it’s like my input doesn’t matter at all. Needless to say, we
haven’t really stopped fighting since, and the atmosphere has been icy to say the least.
Arrick dragged me to a prenatal appointment with some French doctor and basically, he agreed I can’t
fly until I’m passed twelve weeks. They booked me for a sonogram when they think I’ll hit eight weeks
to properly date the conception. I hated it, the whole time, sitting staring at the guy like he had two
heads and any time Arry touched me I pushed him away. I was forced to be there and all of this, ever
since has felt like he is pressuring me. All they did was talk over me like I didn’t matter and made plans
or agreements in French that I didn’t understand.
I want to pretend it doesn’t exist for a little while longer and not face that harsh reality just yet. My
options are simple; have Arricks baby and like it, OR, have Arricks baby and deal with it. Pretty much
the only two options he will even listen to and anything else results in us yelling at one another. I think
he has slept on the couch more times in two weeks than two whole years together. There is no come
and go with him on this.
Who said having babies brought couples closer together?
All it has done is put us back to the huge distance we had started to suffer from and then some. We
even went two whole days in the same apartment without directly talking to one another. Janetta acted
as go between until even she got fed up, threw her hands up and gave us a lecture on growing up and
getting over it.
Boy does that sound really simple!
Arrick is avoiding conversation as much as he can today, sulking or whatever. Not that I care as it fuels
a fight whenever he does talk to me at all.
I hate the fact he is leaving me to go home. I hate that I’m stuck here and he’s swanning off for four
days back to the life I was supposed to be having once more. I should be in New York right now, curled
up with him on the couch and having ourselves a normal existence, pre-Paris happy. Instead we are
angry, at war and he hasn’t laid a finger on me in almost a fortnight. Not that I want him to. He can go
fuck himself for all I care.
I should be going too, to start our life back in New York, not stuck here with not even school to occupy
me anymore. I’m going out of my mind with boredom and the fact all I can obsess over is how unhappy
and ruined my life is. I can’t even muster the will to spend time in my sewing room, or even look at the
dresses he brought back for me from my show, like it’s all pointless now.
My papers and certificate arrived last week and all I felt was disappointment, because my future is
uncertain. Nothing is going to plan. The fashion world is fast moving and unforgivable and me missing
any time will have resounding effects.
I should be at a graduation ceremony for this term end, not a huge affair but a mark of achievement
and instead, I’m watching my boyfriend pack his suitcase to run off to the city and his sexy PA for four
days, while I eat my weight in ice cream.
How did we get to this point so fast?
Arrick eyes me warily as he walks to the drawer to grab some underwear and I can tell he really wants
to say something but is watching what comes out of his mouth.
Yesterday and today I have been super touchy about his going and I am in full blown tantrum, ‘don’t go
and leave me’ mode. Sulking because he is still going anyway. Hating him because we cannot seem to
be civil to one another at all. The tension and atmosphere in this apartment has been hell on earth and
even Janetta has been absent more and more. She can’t stand having to walk on eggshells around us
and I can’t stand her need to try and give me some paternal advice when it’s not warranted.
“Janetta is going to be here, eight till six every day that I’m gone and then back to check on you at nine
pm before bed. I’ll call you every morning when I get up and you can call and text me anytime. I’ll keep
my cell on vibrate.” He looks over me in my fluffy Onesie on the bed and ignores the way I’m scowling
at him.
Don’t go.
“Don’t bother… Maybe we need a break from one another for a few days.” I sigh and focus on the bed
to pick at imaginary fluff. Pushing him away because he’s not helping fix my mental mess and I know
I’m shoving him away with my behavior anyway. This constant anger inside of me has nowhere else to
go except at him. I don’t even know why I’m angry anymore but there is nothing I can do about it.
Maybe I’m angry at myself for being stupid enough to get pregnant.
“Don’t do that.” he scalds and comes over to slide on the bed beside me. I look away, but he brings my
face back to his by the chin.
“You know how I feel about walking away from you when we’re fighting.” Arrick tries to get me to look at
him and it’s only with his touch I realize how much it’s been missing. It feels like months since we had
any sort of physical contact and suddenly, I want more. It breaks me inside.
“I don’t blame you if you don’t come back.” I start to cry, breaking the tension that’s been building up
inside of me all day.
“What am I going to do with you? You make me crazy and you know how to push my buttons, but every
time I leave you, I’m painfully aware half of me is missing. I have no choice but to come back for you,
it’s like severing my soul.” He ignores my frown through watery eyes, and kisses me tenderly on the
forehead, brushing away my tears with gentle fingertips.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you ran off with Amanda.” I let a little of my dumb insecurity over her peek out
and he pulls back to scan my face.
“Still on that, huh? Nothing is going on there. I am not attracted to her and never will be.” He nudges
my head with his, lifting my chin some more so I am forced to look him in the eye. I know the Amanda
thing is dumb, it’s just, walking in that day opened a whole can of insecurity that I can’t lay to rest while
we are so fucked up, and we are. As much as I hate to admit it to myself. Arrick and I are not doing so
well, and I know it’s all on me.
I hate that this is the first real intimacy we have had in two weeks and it’s because he is leaving me. I
should be giving him a reason to come back to me, not this.
“Call me, even if I say not to.” I loop my fingers into the spaces between his shirt button and pull him
close, rubbing my face against the cotton, against him and burying myself in how good he still feels. I
forgot what it felt like to have him comfort me.
“Two years we have been together, Sophs. Do you not think I have learned anything about you in that
time?” He kisses me on the forehead again and moves to break free, but I am not ready. Emotions rile
up like a tidal wave inside of me and I cling to him, so he can’t get up.
“Don’t go” I sound whiny and young and he has to slide my hands out of his clothes to break free.
“You know that’s not an option.” He maneuvers out of my grip and gets up, moving away so he can get
his case up on the bed to put a last few items in. It makes me feel irrationally overcome with frustration
and hysterics.
“If you love me, then you won’t go.” I cry out impulsively, so caught up in feeling sorry for myself and
resorting to the big guns that I never use. Emotional blackmail has never been my style.
“You know that’s not true. I don’t even want to go.” He avoids looking at me and it makes me worse. I
get up and come around behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist and hold on tight. Panic
overcoming me because I don’t want him to leave. Something deep inside of me says that if he goes
everything will fall to shit, that I will fall to shit, and I won’t be able to cope alone. I can’t stop sobbing
and it feels so much worse than it is.
“Sophie…? Come on, I need to go.” Arrick breaks free of me, pushing my hands down and it makes me
rage. This is not my gentle caring and understanding Arry who would drop everything to console me.
This is jackass, sick of Sophie behavior and it only cuts me to the core.
“What? So now you don’t want me to touch you?” I snap at him, sheer wounded pride and being a
dumb little girl. I have no right to be like this; he’s the one who has been putting up with my erratic self,
not vice versa.
“Really? You see for the last two weeks you’re the one who hasn’t wanted me to touch you and now
you know I have to go; you’re pulling this shit? You think I don’t know your trying to emotionally
blackmail me to stay?” Arrick snaps too, his temper has been a lot more fragile the longer this goes on
and here we are, back to what it’s been like. All a constant taut thread, waiting to snap and this time it’s
doing so in grand fashion.
“I’m only staying because you won’t let me leave here!” I snap and yell it at him. Anger bursting forth.
Never good at anyone controlling me.
“You cannot fly!” he yells right back. His own temper spitting fire because he is obviously so sick of this
scenario already.
“I flew from New York AND back and it made no fucking difference, the only difference was that we
didn’t know I was like this. I want to go home!”
You won’t let me!
“This is temporary! You will come home … in two months, like we agreed.” He’s trying to curb his rage
but barely concealing it.
“We didn’t agree! YOU TOLD ME WHAT TO DO! YOU ORDERED ME TO STAY HERE!” I scream at
him, all fury and frustration meeting hysteria and hormones and Arrick stops dead. Clenches a fist in
mid-air like he really wants to strangle me and takes a long slow breath. I can tell he’s counting to ten
but I’m not willing to let this go.
“I swear…” He grits his teeth and I pull back to come at him again.
“Go! I’ll see you in New York, because once you’re gone there is no one keeping me prisoner here, no
one to stop me getting on a flight home. How do you like that?” I snarl at him, smug and stupid and
being a complete bitch. I don’t care! Tears pouring down my face and screwed up into knots inside.
Overwhelmed with everything suffocating me.
HE’S FUCKING LEAVING ME!
“FUCK SAKES, SOPHIE!!” Arrick erupts in crazy Carrero temper and I have to steel myself from
reacting at the visual loss of all that he’s famed for. Calm, cool and emotionally stable all go right out
the window and I flinch at his eruption. “Get used to the idea you are fucking pregnant and you may
want to ignore it and act like it’s not happening, but I can’t. Not only is it very real to me, in my head all
the time, but your crazy erratic up and down moods and three hundred bouts of tears a day and need
to eat us out of house and home, make it impossible to fucking ignore. Stop acting like a spoiled,
selfish, little brat and face the fact. There is a fucking baby inside of you and if you dare get on a plane
in the next two months, then you will know what my leaving you fucking feels like. You will be in no
doubt!” Arrick snaps, fury unleashed, and he startles me with the real threat of ending us.
I guess two weeks’ worth of patient and quiet have finally burst forth and I stare at him in stunned
disbelief that he would even yell at me like that. He gets up and storms across the room to swipe some
toiletries and throw them in his case hard. Biting at my insides that he would dare threaten to break up
with me over this.
Who the hell does he think he is? He talks about ME emotionally blackmailing HIM? He just threatened
to leave me if I try to come home.
I steal back the anger and upset and pull on that mask of controlled hatred. Arrick however isn’t done
ranting at me.
“You’re right, four fucking days of not dealing with this shit is exactly what I need. You, however, can
spend four days getting used to the fact that when I come back, WE WILL be talking about OUR baby
and it is not going to change. You can shut up, suck it up and face reality, because when I come back, I
am so done with this bullshit stroppy behavior and constant hatred. We had sex! We created a baby.
Stop blaming me for this! Accept it and deal with it, because like it or not, you will have this baby!” He
slams the suitcase shut and aggressively zips it up throwing me a furious glare and I react in good hell
hath no fury Sophie style.
Cry or fight, always my reaction to him and I can never predict which one it will ignite. This time it’s fury.
Fury at him telling me what to do, at screaming at me and pretty much making the decision final on my
life and future.
I don’t think so!
“Why don’t you fucking go, pretty sure you are almost desperate to get out the fucking door. GO!!…
Just go away and leave me alone. I would rather not have to deal with YOU for four fucking days. Go
chase your piece of skirt trashy PA and don’t fucking come back.” I throw cushions at him while he
glares murderously, grabs his jacket and suitcase, letting both hit him and fall to the floor pointlessly.
“I won’t bother calling, we clearly need some time out.” He snarls, calm façade almost back in place
right after, although his tone is oozing with rage and turns on his heel to walk out on me. I throw
another cushion after him.
“Maybe extend it to eight weeks and don’t bother coming back until I can fly to New York. It’s obvious
Paris fucking ruins us.” I scream after him and he waves his arm back at me dismissively. Done with
this, us, and me.
No reply, just grabs his shit from the coffee table on passing and storms out with a slam of the
apartment door. I bite on the instant tears, trying to breathe through the complete collapse of my lungs
and stop myself from running after him. That instinct in me the second we have a huge fight to get him
back and make him love me is almost overpowering. I know it stems from my childhood, my
insecurities and guilt, because of all the people in the world who deserve this shitty side of me; It’s
never been him.
I feel broken.
He never leaves me mid fight; he never walks away. Not since that night in New York where Camilla got
me kidnapped.
How could he storm out like this? He swore he would never do that again!
I stare down at my flat stomach and glare at my own body, hating the prisoner it has made me in this
hell hole. Hating the way this stupid mistake is destroying everything that makes my life worth living.
I’ve lost all control of everything that matters to me and I’m losing Arrick too.
“You did this!” I snap at the life growing inside of me, throwing myself on the bed in a heap of tears and
misery, flopping down to bury myself in the duvets and let out everything I’m feeling.
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