A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the shorter chapter, here, but I wanted to get something out quickly but make it a little longer than this, and then I realized that I wanted to make it stop right where I did...a little cliff hanger :)
Hope y'all enjoy! Sorry it takes me so long to update this right now, but during the holidays, my job is crazy hours. I'm trying to update more, though! Love y'all and I sooo appreciate when you review, so I know where to go with this story. I read each and every review and take in to consideration what y'alls thoughts are on where the story should go. So please, if you have an idea that you may want in the story, feel more than free to tell me.
If I can't update before Christmas, I hope y'all have a merry Christmas! (Hopefully I'll update before that lol).
G.
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"Not right now, Tom." Her voice is stern, and she's pressing a hand against his chest. "We don't have enough time."
"Time?" He asks, raising a brow. "Don't you remember Christmas day?"
She looks away at those words. Christmas Day – just a few days ago – the day she faked it during their last quickie. She hasn't told him and has no plans to, either. "Tom, we have to leave in five minutes. We don't have time." She says, a bit of grouchiness in her tone as she finishes the last button on her blouse for work. "Besides, I'm just not in the mood right now."
He frowns slightly, trying to study her (she can feel his heavy gaze). "What's up?" He asks, raising that brow again as he awaits her answer, moving toward her with his shirt still completely unbuttoned and un-tucked from his unbuttoned pants.
He wraps an arm around her, pressing his lips to her cheek as she says, "I'm just not in the mood." and walks out of his arms.
She hates leaving him hanging like that, but she doesn't feel like explaining her feelings to him right now. Not before she has a flight to Miami with him and the rest of their flight crew. Patty has been in the Christmas spirit still, even though Christmas has been almost a week ago and it's now the day before New Years Eve. She doesn't feel like dealing with Patty, nor customers who are depressed that they're leaving their families and going home from the holidays spent with loved ones.
She takes the nice tennis bracelet that Tom gave her over Christmas, laying it softly over her wrist and clasping it together. She shouldn't wear it on flights – not because they're not allowed to have jewelry (because they are), but because of passengers who are feeling a bit broke from all of the Christmas shopping. They get desperate, needy, and way too handsy. She hopes that Patty will take the back of the plane today, just so she can be in the front. Usually there's more crying babies in the back.
He's still watching her, even though she's on her way out the door to climb into his car. She's so grateful that she no longer has to take taxis, but also not too keen on riding with Tom when he's dying to know what's wrong with her attitude this morning. It's too early to be telling him what's going on, she thinks as she gets in, looking at her watch that only says 5:30 AM. She'll wait, if she even tells him at all.
"Trina-"
"Don't." She snips, keeping her gaze straight forward toward the apartment building. "I told you, I don't want to talk about it."
He lets out a huff of annoyance and shakes his head, backing out of the parking spot, "I was just going to ask if you had a comb with you." He says, straightening out his hair, now, with his hands instead of a comb.
She looks over at him momentarily, wondering if he was really going to ask for a comb, until she saw him. It. His pants: still unbuttoned, his shirt: still unbuttoned, his tie: still untied. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, looking over her right shoulder and out the passenger window to watch the other cars go by. "Un-professional." She mutters, leaning her cheek on her fist, her forehead lazily resting against the glass.
The day goes on; Patty takes the back (for the first time in forever), Trina keeps her tennis bracelet in sight – stays away from pesky passengers, and eats a lot of bagged chips on the flight to keep her mind off of things. Sometimes she'll eat the chips that she keeps in her rolling bag. It's better than the snacks they give out here, usually.
Over the intercom, she hears Tom paging her. She hesitates to get up, but realizes since she's in the front it may not be a personal reason. He may actually need something from her, other than just her time or her kisses. Finally, she sets the bag of chips down on the counter in the pantry, and walks into his cab. "Yes?" She asks, dryness in her voice with no enthusiasm whatsoever. She keeps it at that one word, and Rex looks up when he doesn't hear her normal, "hello, Captain Dicker", or something else stupid and lovey like that. But she makes him look back into the clouds as soon as she shoots the co-pilot a harsh glare.
Tom looks at her and stands up, "You never brought me any coffee this morning." He says.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, your majesty. Let me go do that right away." She smarts off, turning on her heel and folding her arms across her upper stomach, rolling her eyes once she's looking at the door to the main piece of the plane.
She stops – against her will, but stops nonetheless, when she feels his hand grasp around her arm, just above her elbow. "Trina, can we talk or something?" He asks, completely lost and confused on what is going on.
Trina simply looks over at Rex, who was giving them privacy by sight but more than likely listening to every word they were saying. "No." She simply replies, "We can't. Let me go get your coffee, and please don't keep grabbing me." She says, shrugging his hand off of her. She's stayed in the exact same position the whole time, and she turns again and actually makes it out of the cab this time without him grabbing her or saying something.
Honestly, she doesn't care about his feelings right now. Hers are too crushed to think much of him, let alone how he's feeling. She considers spitting in his coffee, but decides he's not quite worth her saliva. Instead, she makes a cup of decaf (usually it's regular, with a load of sugar). Decaf, no cream, no sugar. She brings it into the cab and sets it down in his mug holder with a thud. She doesn't look to see if he's watching her, she doesn't look to see how big a mess that made when she plopped the black coffee down into his holder. She simply leaves. She doesn't care.
He can't do anything about it, anyway. They're on a plane full of people who would probably form a mob if they saw him come out here and start fighting with one of the flight attendants.
Two nights ago, Trina stayed back at her apartment for the first time in what felt like forever. The day after, she came back to Tom's while he was grocery shopping. She listened to his messages, just like usual. She watered his plants, just like usual. But she knew she'd never be the same, never feel the same, once he came home. She knew, now, it was close to the end. She's just trying to get another route before a big break up happens. She doesn't want to deal with the man on a day-to-day basis once they're no longer a couple.
She even considered laying the tennis bracelet on his dresser, leaving not even a note. No sign of her leaving, other than that tennis bracelet. She was going to take a bus to New York, try to find some whore house or something that she could maybe get herself in to. She had seriously thought about it, until he suddenly came home.
Now, sitting in the backwards seat on this plane, she wishes she would've thought faster that day. She wishes she would've left without ever having to see him again. He hadn't even noticed that she was beside herself all night last night, he was too busy watching those damn game shows on the television. Not her type of thing, and she hadn't ever thought of it being his type of thing, either, until he started them the day after Christmas. He always seemed to have time for the television, but never enough time for her. She's done with it.
She picks underneath her acrylic nail – the one she chipped the paint off of accidentally this morning when she was in a hurry to slam down in his car. It's only 9:50, but she wants the day to be over with. She just wants everything to be over with, after what happened yesterday. Before she realizes it, she's accidentally dozed off (surely from the lack of sleep, tossing and turning did her no good last night). That is, until she heard Patty's annoying voice, "What the hell are you doing?"
Trina shifts a little and opens an eye, realizing she's still on the plane. She lets a drawn out, upset sigh out and stretches a little. "I didn't sleep well last night." She explains. Why? She's not sure. She doesn't need to explain herself to Patty.
"Well, chop his dick off and you won't have that problem." She sneers, "You have very unhappy passengers in row eight. They've been waiting for you to come take their order of drink for ten minutes now."
"I was asleep that long?" She asks, somewhat astonished that she'd slept that soundly in such a short time.
Patty huffs, "Hell if I know." She says, turning away and rushing back to the back of the plane to tend to her passengers, now.
Trina would shoot her the middle finger if she weren't on a plane filled with a bunch of passengers, who are now watching her. Instead, she stands up and stretches a little bit more, going to the row Patty said, first, and then taking the orders of others for their drinks and snacks. What a life.
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…..
"Okay, seriously Tri, what the hell is going on?" He asks, now getting overly irritated with her. He even pulls over in the middle of the dark road.
She looks at the clock (10:57 PM), "You're going to get us killed on this damn highway, pulling over like this. Get back on the road." She barks, never looking at him once her eyes leave the radio clock. "Now." She snarls when he doesn't move the car out of park after about thirty seconds.
"Since when do you control me?" He asks, dumbfound at her behavior all day. "Since when do you have such an attitude?"
That's what does it. She was mad before, but now she's been lit like a firecracker. She's ready to explode, and he better wish that they weren't in a tight little space such as this car. "Me?! My attitude?! Tom, when was the last time we had an actual date night? Not even that, no, but-" She stops and feels her body throbbing – she knows her face has to be beat red by now. It does it when she gets mad. "But you – oh, you. You wanna know who came to visit you the other day? And who was disappointed to find out you weren't there at the time? You're pregnant ex-fiancee. Yes, fiancee. I know, now, thanks to Tonya. You must have a thing for girls with names that start with T, don't you, Tom? You like the way it sounds against your tongue while you're having sex with us, since that's all you do? Then, OOPS! Once they're pregnant, you leave them. She's eight months pregnant, Tom. You told me she was your girlfriend, and that you broke it off."
"I did! Six months ago! A month and a half before we started dating, Tri-"
"Don't call me Tri!" She snaps, completely fired up and angry. "You told me she was your girlfriend. Fiancee?! You put a ring on her finger after three years of dating her, then took it back and said you just weren't right for her. Because of me! Do you realize how mortifying and embarrassing it was for me to answer your door with your pregnant ex-fiancee standing there, high hopes of finding you? No, you don't. Because you never consider anyone's feeling but yourself, Tom. Hers, mine, that baby's. Your baby! Your baby, Tom!" She yells out, making her own ears ring from the tight proximity of the car's space, but not even noticing. She was too mad. She's never been this mad before. "That means you would've left as soon as she told you. She would've been about two months when you left her, she should've known by then that she was pregnant. You're such a low-life that I-"
"Stop." He snaps, his voice stern and low. "Just stop it right there. Yes, she was my fiancee. I said she was my girlfriend, because I knew you'd be even more upset that I broke it off with her just so I could be with you. Remember that night I told you that's why I broke it off with her? I told you I couldn't be faithful to her when I saw you walk in on that plane the very first day? Yeah, that was all true, still. And that baby isn't mine. There's no way." He snaps.
"No way? Tom, you just had sex three nights ago with me, you just had sex five nights ago with me, and before the Christmas party with me. You tried it this morning, too. You think you didn't knock her up with your hatred for condoms?" She scoffs, rolling her eyes sadly. "Right. Keep thinking that. She's as big as a whale and it's your fault, you bastard." She snaps, opening the door and stepping out in the three inches of snow on the side of the road. It was freezing cold, she had her jacket on, but nothing on her head and no gloves. She felt the cold burning through her skin immediately, but it felt good because of how hot she'd gotten when she was so angry at first. She's still angry, now, but at least it's not all wanting to come out anymore. She doesn't have anything to hide from him.
She'd slammed the door shut, but he reached over and opened it, driving slowly beside her as she walked. "Trina, I honestly didn't know about the baby. If it's even mine." He says, and she quickly realizes his voice is cracking badly. He's holding tears back, or he's already started crying. She can't tell, it's too dark to see his face. "Why was she even there?"
Trina looks at him sharply, a sad but still disappointed expression on her face as she says, "She was hoping you'd take her back. She can't work right now, she's too pregnant." She says, slamming the door shut again. However, it did no good, because it simply flew back open again when he reached over to pull the handle.
"What did you say?" He asks.
She keeps her gaze straight forward, now. "I said that, first, I was the girl Tom was dating, since she thought I was a housekeeper. You're ex is a real bitch." She snaps, getting all her steam out while she's mad. "And then I said you weren't home, but by then she'd thrown the glass plate of cookies at me that she was coming to bring you. Hit me, hurt me, bruised me. But instead of telling you, I simply closed the door and threw everything away. You're lucky I didn't leave then, because I was going to. Now, oh...now I'm going back to your apartment and getting every little thing I own and at least going back to my apartment to live in now. I never want to see your bastard face again."
With that, she keeps walking, and finally hitches a ride with a random stranger. She hopes to never have to see him again.
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A/N: Oooooh, cliffhanger. So exciting. I don't recall ever putting a cliffhanger in this story before. :)
