Chapter 3
The perpetual Seattle drizzle tapped against the windowpane, a metronome to Emily Prentiss's waking moments. Lethargy clung to her limbs as she shifted in bed, the linens whispering softly around her. Then, with a sudden flutter that cut through the morning fog of sleep, Emily felt it—a gentle but distinct stirring within her womb. Her breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, a radiant smile dispersed the shadows under her eyes.
"Hey there," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress over the swell of her belly, cherishing the delicate flutter of movement beneath her fingertips. In the quiet embrace of the room bathed in the soft hues of dawn, a serene hush enveloped them, as if time itself paused to witness this intimate connection. But with each precious kick that elicited a smile from Emily, a bittersweet ache lingered beneath the surface.
Recalling Clyde's cutting words from the previous night, his harsh declaration still echoing in her mind like a distant thunderstorm.
"It's not a baby, it's a parasite. Why would you continue to allow him this power over you."
The memory pierced through her tender moment with her child, casting shadows on the profound bond she was nurturing. Despite the lingering hurt and doubt clouding her thoughts, Emily cradled her belly protectively, silently vowing to shield this innocent life growing within her from such callous judgments.
As she closed her eyes and focused on the rhythmic movements beneath her palm, a sense of peace washed over Emily. In this private communion with her unborn child, she found solace and strength amidst the storm raging inside her heart. The room seemed to hold its breath in reverence for this unbreakable connection between mother and child, an unspoken promise of unwavering love that transcended all doubts and fears.
With a sigh, Emily peeled herself away from the sanctuary of her bed, her movements hesitant as if each step toward the living room might shatter the fragile peace of the morning. The tired floorboards groaned beneath her feet, heralding her approach to the living area. There, amidst the stark contrast of shadow and the dawning light, lay Clyde, an awkward silhouette on her couch.
His presence, a solid reminder of their unresolved discord, tugged at the threads of frustration woven tightly around her heart. She moved past him, and the creak of the floor startled him awake.
"G'morning," he rasped, voice thick with sleep and discomfort. With a pained stretch, he groaned, an audible testament to many restless nights on her unforgiving sofa.
"I'm sorry, did I wake you," said Emily, the words perfunctory as she avoided his gaze, channeling her focus into the mundane task of breakfast as she inserts a slice of bread into the toaster.
"It's fine," Clyde's voice grated against Emily's frayed nerves, laced with gravelly concern that only heightened the tension in the dimly lit apartment.
Emily's fingers sought solace in tracing the curve of her growing belly, a subconscious gesture betraying her inner turmoil. "I still think you'd be more comfortable in a hotel," she suggested, her tone carrying an unspoken plea for distance.
As Clyde made his way into the kitchen, a wave of unease washed over Emily, prickling her skin with self-consciousness. She instinctively retreated against the counter, her movements hesitant and jittery as he drew nearer.
"If you're set on having this child, then I'm not leaving," his words cut through the air like a sharp blade, each syllable carrying a weight that pierced through Emily's fragile defenses. Her hand jerked away from her stomach as if burned by his implication, the depth of his concern amplifying her own sense of vulnerability.
Emily's jaw clenched tightly, teeth grinding together as she abruptly turned towards the looming fridge, her fingers gripping the handle with determined force. With a resounding creak, she swung the door open. Her heart pounded in her chest as she used the open fridge door almost instinctively as a barrier, a physical shield against the mounting tension that crackled between her and Clyde like electricity in the air.
As she scans the shelves for something to eat, she hears a satisfying click followed by the low, comforting hum of the coffee machine warming up. A small moment of peace amidst the tense atmosphere. She grabs a strawberry yogurt and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. Turning around, she carefully opens the foil lid and retrieves a spoon from the drawer, placing them both on her plate beside her perfectly toasted bread. All this time, she avoids meeting Clyde's intense gaze.
"I could whip up something more substantial for you, if you'd like," Clyde offered, his eyes flicker down to her simple meal, evaluating it with curiosity and perhaps a hint of concern.
Her sharp glare collided with his steady gaze, blue and earnest, before Emily withdrew into herself once more.
"I can feed myself," she retorted, her words a shield as she retreated to the sofa with her plate in hand, the flickering television providing a superficial distraction from the tension that stretched taut between them.
"Price is Right" contestants cheered and balked in equal measure, their excitement a jarring contrast to the silent battle raging within the confines of Emily's mind. The familiar cadence of the game show seemed trivial, laughable even, against the backdrop of her tumultuous thoughts.
She could feel Clyde's eyes on her as she chewed, his stare laden with things unsaid, the weight of his judgement mingling with the scent of damp earth and coffee that permeated the apartment. In the grey light filtering through the blinds, every line of worry etched in her face was laid bare, every conflicted emotion playing out in silent agony.
Emily's resolve wavered, teetering precariously on the precipice of her own fears. The baby kicked again, a poignant reminder of life persisting amidst the chaos. And just like that, the world narrowed down to the simple, profound connection between a mother and her unborn child—an anchor in the turmoil of her heart.
The acrid aroma of the dark roast mingled with the mustiness of rain-soaked pavement as Clyde poured himself a steaming cup of coffee. His movements were deliberate, almost ritualistic, as he spooned sugar with a steadiness that belied his concern. Taking his mug, he shuffled over to where Emily sat ensconced on the sofa, eyes fixed on the flickering screen.
"I thought I'd make a grocery run in a bit," he announced, breaking the silence that had settled between them like an unwelcome guest.
"Okay, thank you," Emily replied, her voice tinged with a dismissiveness that was sharper than the knife she's used on her buttered toast.
"You should come with me. It would be good for you to get out," Clyde suggested, his tone cautiously optimistic.
Emily remained silent, her gaze not leaving the television, where the enthusiastic screams of contestants seemed to fill the void her silence left behind.
Clyde knew better than to let the subject drop; concern etched itself into the furrows of his brow. "We could find a clinic; you need to see a doctor."
"I didn't say I would go with you," she snapped back curtly, a crack in her usual stoic facade revealing a sliver of vulnerability.
"Emily, you need prenatal care. I don't think you're taking your health seriously. If having Doyle's baby kills you…" Clyde's voice faltered, the words catching in his throat like thorns.
His unfinished sentence hung in the air, heavy with implications neither wanted to explore.
Frustration simmering just beneath her skin, Emily rose from the couch with a suddenness that startled them both. She stalked out onto the balcony, the door sliding shut with a sharp click behind her. The chill morning air enveloped her, the mist from the drizzle painting droplets on her face like tears she refused to shed.
Clyde followed, the threshold marking the line between shelter and storm.
"You're suffocating me," she breathed out, the accusation sharp against the hush of rain.
"That's not my intention," Clyde murmured, the simplicity of his words belying the complexity of his emotions.
Silence swathed them once more, the only sound the distant cry of a gull over Puget Sound.
"Why are you still here? It's been a month," Emily's voice quavered, her plea barely audible above the city's heartbeat.
"I care about you," Clyde confessed, his declaration hovering uncertainly in the space between them.
"That's bullshit, Clyde. I'm begging you, go back to London and forget about me." Her eyes, dark pools reflecting the storm clouds overhead, met his—and in that instant, she saw a flicker of pain, a shadow of guilt.
"I can't do that, I won't let you go through this alone," he countered, his resolve steeling.
"What if I want to do this alone?" Her voice cracked, betraying the fortress she had built around herself.
"Why?" he demanded, the word heavy with unspoken fears, each syllable a weight on his chest.
She shook her head, turning away from him to face the cityscape as tears threaten to fall.
"Pregnancy is supposed to be this joyous experience, but..." Her voice trailed off, laden with a mix of bitterness and sorrow. "I knew the second I saw those two lines that I'd never have that. I shouldn't expect anyone to celebrate a child conceived in a shroud of lies and deceit."
The gravity of her words bore down on Clyde, a suffocating weight that anchored him in a sea of guilt, each syllable a relentless wave crashing against his conscience.
"Before you found me," she continued, her tone laced with raw emotion, "this baby gave me a connection to the life I'd built as Lauren. I clung to that persona because it allowed me permission to feel excited, maybe even hopeful. But with you here, hovering and casting your judgments," she turned back to face him, eyes flashing with defiance and pain, "all I feel is shame." Her words cut through the air like a blade. "I won't spend every day trying to justify my decision to you; it's exhausting."
The tension between them pulsated with a charged intensity in the confined space, emotions running high as their unspoken truths hung heavy in the air.
Clyde took a step forward, closing the distance yet not breaching the invisible barrier she had erected. "I'm sorry," he said softly, his presence a testament to his inner battle. "I feel responsible for putting you in this situation in the first place. I should have protected you."
"Stop," she interrupted, her tone forbidding any further self-reproach. "I don't blame you. I had options. I chose this."
"Something good has to come from all of this shit, Clyde. I'm owed that much." Her hand instinctively cradled her stomach—her refuge, her reason. "I know that this baby, my baby, will be that good. I wish you could find it in yourself to see that." she affirmed, her voice steady now, fortified by a truth only she could understand.
Clyde's gaze, which had been fixed on the horizon, now settled on Emily with an intensity that made her insides flutter—not from fear but from something far more complex. His eyes softened, betraying his concern. "I wish I could unburden you of this pain. You deserve to move forward and put the past behind you."
"I can't do that anymore, but I am moving forward." she declared, the words trembling on her lips. Emily's breath hitched, "I'm about to be a mother, even if I have to do this on my own," she admitted, the facade crumbling as tears brimmed in her eyes.
Without hesitation, Clyde closed the gap between them, his arms encircling her with a tenderness that belied his rugged exterior. She leaned into him, allowing herself this one moment of weakness, her body racked with sobs. As Emily's tears fell against his chest, Clyde felt a pang of realization pierce through him – the pain he had unknowingly caused her weighed heavily on his conscience.
"It's not okay," Clyde murmured, his voice a low rumble laced with regret. "I've misunderstood your needs, Emily. But I promise you this, I will do better. I will be here for you in the way you truly need me to be." His words held a newfound depth of sincerity as he vowed to mend the fractures he had inadvertently deepened within her.
"I can be supportive. You're going to be okay, both of you," he affirmed, each syllable carrying a resolve to right his wrongs and become the unwavering pillar of strength she deserved. Clyde's words now wrapped around her not just in reassurance but in a pledge of genuine understanding and support, forming a cocoon of safety infused with his heartfelt commitment to do better by Emily and her unborn child.
They remained locked in an embrace, the rhythm of Emily's cries and Clyde's steady heartbeat merging into a single cadence of shared vulnerability. The world around them seemed to pause, the cacophony of the cityscape fading into a hushed lull.
As Emily's tears subsided, giving way to quiet sniffles, Clyde spoke again, his suggestion carrying the weight of his commitment. "Why don't you let me schedule you a doctor's appointment. You want a healthy baby," he said, his tone gentle yet unwavering.
She pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but found none—only the earnestness of a man willing to stand by her side against all odds. Her throat tight with emotion, she nodded, unable to articulate the gratitude that swelled within her.
"Thank you," Emily whispered, her voice barely audible above the whisper of wind through the balcony railing. The words were simple, yet in them lay the complexity of their situation—a dance of proximity and distance, support and independence.
Clyde's response was equally soft, a promise wrapped in two words that held a world of meaning. "Anytime, darling."
In that exchange, they found an equilibrium, a way forward through the labyrinth of emotions that had ensnared them both. And as they stepped back inside the dimly lit apartment, the tension that once permeated the space seemed to dissipate, replaced by a tentative sense of hope—a glimmer of light breaking through the persistent clouds.
Thanks for reading. I hope that my story intriguing! I can't wait to share the rest of this story and the following instalment to this series so follow to stay up to date. Thank you to those who have left comments so far, your feedback is both humbling and affirming.