Pete/Violet - "the unexpected"
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10:45 Amsterdam Conversations
- Funeral For A Friend
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Pete stares down at his wife with disbelief. "You're sure?" he asks again, the third time, and she looks as annoyed as he feels. They're pushing, they're straining, and things have been hectic lately. And this is so not the time.
"Why don't you ask me if I think it's yours?" Violet snarks back immediately, curling a fist around the paperwork Addison gave her earlier in the afternoon. When he doesn't respond quickly enough, she storms to the kitchen, whipping out the jar of peanut butter and slamming the cabinet door shut.
"It's- Violet, that-" Pete stalls, watching her furiously rifle through the refrigerator for what he is assuming would be the strawberry jam but it is missing because she can't seem to remember that she polished it off on Thursday. "You're freaking out."
"You're freaking out!" Violet accuses, her finger finding the air.
"Well, yeah."
"Why are we freaking out? We've done this before, our kid is sleeping down the hall."
"Because," Pete carefully reminds her with one word. Because, last time it didn't go well. Last time was a catastrophe, and he's not exactly looking for a do-over when they're dangling from fragile strings as it is.
"I'm fine," Violet refutes. "It's good, this is good. Children should have siblings. I always wished I had one to share the craziness of my mother with, you have Adam-"
"Not a great example," Pete declines.
"This is gonna be good," Violet declares, mouth full of dry bread and a generous heaping of sticky peanut butter. "I'm exhausted already, that won't matter, and Lucas will be in school by the time the baby comes, so that's free babysitting, and we have the nanny. Good, it's all good."
She's nodding so much, chewing so little, that Pete thinks she may choke. When she finishes, water glass drained next to the sink, he feels her edge under his shoulder to that one specific spot. He places a rough kiss atop her mangled hair and sighs.
"I'm not going to be crazy this time," Violet says softly, more for her own benefit, not that anyone would blame her if she decided to go that route.
"No," Pete whispers, agreeing even when every fiber of his being is protesting this unwelcome, unwanted, and unexpected ambush.
"I'm freaked out," Violet confides minutes later, the clock in the kitchen ticking down.
"Me too."