thank you all so, so much for all the love on the last chapter! I'm working away making additional edits on the remaining chapters so I can get them to you over the next couple of weeks :)
fever dream
16
"See you later, piccolina! I love—"
Slam.
"...You."
I watch Fiorella stomp off into school with a grimace on my face and a leaden feeling in the pit of my stomach. A week after the explosion at Rose and Em's, Riley and I sat the children down and explained things to them. As I pull away from the drop-off zone, I blink back tears and replay the moment what we were saying dawned on Fi.
.
"What...no. No, you can't."
My heart fucking breaks watching fat tears well in her eyes as her head whips side to side, eyes flitting from my face to Riley's.
"Sweetheart, it's all right," Riley murmurs, tucking his arm around her shoulders.
"I don't want you to get a divorce! Why...what happened? You love each other, I know you do. People who love each other stay married, they do, that's what happens."
"It's done, Fi," Riley tells her gently as I check on Jameson, who honestly couldn't care less what we're saying; Riley got him a fish earlier in the week and his eyes are on the tank in the living room, neck craned so he can follow our instructions to stay on his chair but also watch his beloved goldfish.
"We both love you guys so, so much, sweetheart. We just don't want to be married anymore, and that's okay—"
"No! No, it's not okay!"
Shrugging off his arm, she leaves the table with a screech of chair legs on hardwood, the tears still falling over her cheeks wrecking him, too. Glaring at both of us, she tosses her hair over her shoulder and lets out a sob that honestly might as well have been a gunshot right to my heart.
"I hate you! I hate both of you!"
When her bedroom door bangs behind her we both flinch.
Jameson tugs my arm and offers me a goofy, hopeful smile. "Me down? Fish?"
Sighing, I ruffle his hair and nod. "Yeah, baby. You can go see your fish now."
.
Right now, Fi isn't speaking to either of us. I'm worried, but Riley is keeping me grounded by reminding me that our daughter is like him. She needs time to process change. We'll give her that, of course, but we can't wait forever. Difficult conversations need to be had and we can't put them off for long.
In the meantime, all I can do is be there so that when she's ready, she can come to me.
~ fd ~
When I get to Edward's, he's waiting for me outside. Arms crossed over his chest, one ankle over the other. Panty-dropping smirk on his face when I climb out of the car.
Sin. Absolute sin.
"Hey, you."
"Hey."
He abandons his post against the wall when I get close, sweeping me up into his arms to plant a kiss on me that turns my bones to jelly and evaporates my willpower.
"Where's the little guy?" he mumbles against my cheek when I turn my face away to catch my breath, hands braced on his shoulders, ankles locked behind his thighs.
"Carmen," I breathe. "I've got until three before I have to be at work, so we can waste time shooting the breeze or—"
"Enough said."
I need a distraction, a connection. I need him to remind me why I'm putting my daughter through hell and why I spent yesterday helping Riley go through the stuff he wants to take to the apartment he's moving into next week.
We're barely inside the loft when he attacks again; lips and teeth and roaming hands that remove layers of fabric as we stumble our way toward the bedroom.
"Fucking pants, what were you thinkin'?" he mutters, having an argument with my jeans in the middle of the kitchen.
"That it was cold?" I laugh, amusement dying when he finally gets them down and his mouth is pressing against the damp patch on my panties within seconds. "Oh, ffffuck."
Shooting me a wicked grin from his spot down there on his knees, he slides my panties over my hips, my thighs, torturously slowly. "Working on it, babe."
My shoes, sweater, and bra are the next casualties. By the time he's lowering me gently onto the bed, reverent hands fluttering over the slight swell of my abdomen, I'm a panting, breathy, needy mess.
And he has far too many clothes on.
"My turn," I tell him, not at all calmed by the sexy smirk he wears as he takes my spot, stretching out on the bed with his hands behind his head, no fucks given.
"All yours, baby."
Mm, I love the sound of that.
~ fd ~
"That's probably the pizza," Edward calls from the bathroom, leaning into the doorway so I can see the glorious naked length of him as he towels his hair. "My wallet is on the counter in the kitchen."
"Okay." Pulling his tee over my head and snatching his basketball shorts from the pile of folded laundry on his dresser, I hurry out to get our lunch, swiping his wallet on the way.
I'm so busy grinning like a goof at the new picture he's got in his wallet—a smaller copy of the baby's twelve-week sonogram—that I don't think to check the peephole before I pull the door open.
"Hi there—oh."
I'm expecting the pizza delivery guy.
I'm not expecting my daughter to be standing there, wide-eyed with her school bag over her shoulder.
"What are you doing here?"
If I weren't in shock, I might have laughed at us both asking the same question at the same time.
But I'm having trouble processing, and then I hear Edward's bare feet on the floor and all of a sudden I realize what my daughter is seeing, what she's going to think when he appears behind me in a towel, me in his t-shirt and shorts in the middle of the day.
"Why are you here?" Her eyes flick around me and I hear Edward's muttered "fuck" as her wide gaze narrows. "What's going on?"
"Fi, this isn't—"
"Oh, my God." She takes a big step backwards. My heart falls to my feet. "Oh my god. This...you two...this is why. This is why you're…"
Reaching for her, I drop Edward's wallet. "Fi, please, come in and—"
"No! No, don't touch me!" Wheeling away from my outstretched hands, she looks at me like it's the first time. Like she has no idea who I am. "I can't...does Dad know?"
Swallowing hard, I nod. "Come in, please, piccolina. Let me explain."
"I don't want to hear anything you have to say," she laughs but there's absolutely no humor anywhere in this entire situation. The look on her face...it guts me. "I came here because I thought it was safe and I could talk to you, Uncle Edward, about how to forgive Mom and Dad, but it's your fault."
Edward sucks in a big breath behind me.
"Don't worry, I'll leave you guys to it. I'll just...go."
"No, wait, Fi!"
Yanking on the hoodie Edward throws at me and stuffing my feet into the first pair of shoes I see, I manage to catch up to Fi halfway down the street. She takes one look at my mishmashed outfit and scoffs, walking a little faster, tears trailing over her cheeks.
"Fiorella, please. Talk to me."
"I don't want to." Screeching to a halt, she faces me and white-knuckles the strap of her backpack. "How could you? Uncle Edward? Like, isn't that incest or something? He's Dad's brother."
"Baby, no, it's not…" Shaking my head, I take her free hand and cling onto it. "Your Dad and I...we should have separated a while ago. We know that now. But Edward—"
"Uncle Edward."
"Look, I don't want to hurt you. I never want to hurt you, you or your brother or your dad, okay? This is just...Edward and I, we care about each other—"
"You cared about Dad and you've still broken his heart," she interjects, chin jutted out, blue eyes snapping fire as I flounder for something to say. She's thirteen years old and she's ripping my heart out. I deserve it, I know I've broken hers, but I don't know what to say to make this better. To fix things.
Or whether I even can.
~ fd ~
The days stretch by with Fi continuing her vow of silence whenever I'm around.
Since she found out about me and Edward, she refuses to speak to me, or be alone in a room with me.
When Riley moves into his apartment, she throws her biggest tantrum to date, insisting that she go live with him because the thought of living with me is abhorrent.
It breaks my heart, but I let her go.
I pack a little hamper of girly things I know she likes that Riley won't think of or know to buy, and then I watch her toss it right into the trash can on her way out to his car.
"She'll calm down," Riley promises gently, hugging me before he hurries after our brokenhearted little girl.
Jameson misses her, and Riley, but he's easily distracted—most of the time—by his goldfish or the bubble blower I get him for Halloween, and he gets his fix of Fifi and Daddy time on the weekends or when I'm working and Riley is in town. Riley has the children as much as I do, and despite the heartache and pain that's brought us here, our new routine is a good one. It works, and it gives us both lots of time to spend with our babies.
I just wish that when Riley drops Jameson back, Fiorella would come with him.
Riley's apologetic blue eyes are the first thing I notice when he gets out of the car one Sunday right after Halloween. "Next time," he says, but after a month, I don't think even he believes it.
October bleeds into November, and soon there's no hiding my bump.
I'm almost five months along now and the doctor says I'm measuring ahead; the baby is long and strong, like his or her daddy.
Edward and I have found a new routine, too. We spend the nights that Jameson is with Riley at the loft, trying to decide on baby name options and where we'll live when the baby comes. My place or his, or somewhere else entirely. When I'm home with Jameson, we work Edward time in too, easing him into Jameson's carefully crafted routine so that he can get used to having him around more often, adjust to having Unc-Ed do bath time or feed him breakfast before Carmen arrives to take over while I work.
It's a lot, and I cry way more often than I like. Usually at the end of the day when Edward is curled around me and I feel safe enough to let it all out, but sometimes at random, inopportune moments in the middle of the day.
The emotional toll of being pregnant on top of being newly divorced and a single parent of one child who barely understands the concept of marriage, let alone divorce, and another who refuses to acknowledge my existence, is a heavy one.
Since she won't talk to me on the phone, let me visit her at her dad's, or even respond to a text, I begrudgingly give Riley permission to tell Fi about the baby before Edward and I throw a gender reveal party for our family. I send her a special invitation and pray that she comes, falling asleep with Jameson's little elbows and feet digging into me every night that Edward doesn't stay over and wishing for the days when Fi would creep into bed with me, too.
The day of the gender reveal, I squeeze myself into a pale green dress and ask Rose to curl my hair. When Jameson chooses a blue t-shirt I wonder if it's a premonition that he's going to have a little brother, but I guess we'll find out soon enough.
It's...awkward, Esme and Carlisle here but not really. I can tell they're still struggling with this, with me and Edward, but they're trying and that matters. Rose is her incredible self; she arranged everything and keeps conversations flowing so that the silences don't become too painful, Jasper and Alice's glaring absence too noticeable, and after giving Edward a few sly digs about hand-me-downs, Em hugs us both.
"It's still kinda weird but I love you guys."
And when Fi shows up at Riley's side right before Edward pops the big black balloon, showering pink confetti all over the tiny backyard, I feel like I could explode, I'm so happy.
Ignoring everyone else around me, I beeline straight for her. "Can I…?"
Glancing at her father over her shoulder, she waits for his encouraging nod before stepping into my hopeful, outstretched arms.
"Thank you so much for coming, piccolina," I croak, mouthing "thank you" to Riley over her head.
He nods, hands jammed in his pockets, uncomfortable of course, and I know what a big deal this is. That he's here. That she's here.
I know she wouldn't be if he hadn't brought her, and for that, I'll forever be in his debt.
"So, the baby's a girl?" she mumbles, peering over at Jameson and Harry playing in the pink confetti, tossing it at each other and the adults milling around with pink and blue lemonade in rose gold plastic flutes.
"She sure is," I breathe, a little giddy.
Another little girl. A little Fiorella.
"Is that...are you excited to have a sister?"
Pulling back a little, I reach up to smooth the crease in her forehead, the pucker between her brows.
"Is...well, will the baby be my sister, or my cousin?"
"Fiorella," Riley warns.
"What? It's a valid question!"
I can feel people looking at us. The baby is kicking, butterfly-like movements that make me think of my pregnancy with Jameson and how excited Fi was to be a big sister. I don't see any of that excitement now, just wariness and a whole lot of resentment.
"This baby is your sister, Fi," I tell her firmly, cupping her angry little face in my hands. "I know this is hard for you, I know. And it's okay if you're not sure how to feel about it all. We have time and we love you, we just want you to be happy."
I feel Edward's hand at the small of my back, the warmth of his touch comforting as it chases away the November chill. I wish I could say Fi is as pleased to see him.
"Yeah, well, if you wanted me to be happy you wouldn't have run off to have a baby with my uncle."
eeeep, so our girl Fi isn't taking it so well!