Bad Blood

Bad Blood
ROMANY

Like many other days before this one, I am sitting by myself in Doctor Saul’s lobby with an avocado and banana smoothie riding upon the nervous bounce of one knee and an expired magazine spread open before me. I pretend to read the damn thing, same as always, when a familiar blossom of warmth tingles my senses. I smile down at the two thousand word article, actually reading some of it this time when I remember just who it is that’s coming over this morning.
My boys…they’ll be here today. With me. And everything that fell apart four months ago will finally have the chance to right itself the way that it was meant to before Ruby inserted herself between us. 
Alex. I’ll finally get to see Alex again and feel him alive and full of all that hatred he claims to have for me.
The widest, most uninhibited of smiles stretches across my face as I lean back in my seat, wiggling my body deeper into the plush white cushions as a satisfied sigh escapes my lips.
My gaze lifts, my eyes skirting about the empty waiting room and the dozen or so vacant seats that surround me in hopes that I’ll fill at least four of them when I return back here in a couple of weeks to conduct the paternity test.
And then…once the actual father is revealed…damage control will become my highest priority.
I snort, giggling and sitting up in my seat just as a gentle, yet defeated little voice sounds on my right.
“I’m glad you’re not sad anymore,” the voice says and I startle, my body rocking up with tension as my head swivels to the side to lock upon the most charming little smile I have ever been fortunate enough to see. 
A child sits next to me. An adorable little boy. One with the fattest set of blushing apple cheeks and the shiniest, thickest, curliest head of black hair any boy has ever been blessed with.                                                                                                    
The boy’s eyes twinkle up at me when I shoot a smile in his direction and…those eyes! They’re absolutely lovely. A cocktail of emeralds and golds that bleed into each other and sparkle bright beneath the shade of his impossibly long lashes. And I find myself suddenly speechless in the wake of them. My tongue clumsily refuses to mold around the words I want to say and what I end up with is a one word question.
“Sad?” I croak, my eyebrows drawing together as my eyes flicker from him to the door that will lead into the office proper once Doctor Saul is ready for me. “You knew that I was sad?”
He nods, frowning slightly as he casts his eyes downward, and I think he must have seen me here before and noticed the devastation in me despite that I fought desperately not to let it show—something little children seem to have a talent for picking up on.
Shifting in my seat so that I can lean in a bit closer, I have to stop myself from burying my fingers in his curls when my hand inches toward him of its own accord and I’m forced to snatch it back into my lap.
That would be soooo inappropriate, slimeball, you don’t even know this kid’s mother!
Yet, my fingers fairly itch to reach for him. To soothe out the sudden worry along his brow and still the barely visible quiver of his lips.
No, no, no! You will not dare touch his lips. Weirdo! What the fuck is wrong with you?
Clearing my throat, I grab for his attention and try for a grin, nearly panicking when he doesn’t return my smile and his eyes fill with tears.
Oh God!
I huff, “It seems like you’re the one that is sad now. Any particular reason why?” He nods his head, blinking back the moisture and then swiping his arm across his face to gain control of his too damn mature for a toddler emotions. “Hmm,” I murmur, my eyes flicking toward the office door and then back to him. “Does it have to do with your mom?”
“Yes,” he whispers, shying away a bit and scooting toward the opposite end of his chair. 
“Is she-” dare I even ask “-ill?”
He shakes his head in the negative, a smile finding his eyes even though it remains absent from his features. “You’re perfect,” he replies, somewhat awestruck, and I’m hit with the sudden power of his words, my face heating tremendously as fire erupts. “I think you’re probably the most beautiful lady in the whole wide world.”
Oh my…yet another little heartbreaker has been born. Heaven help us all.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” I say honestly and he beams from ear to ear, his face going tomato red. “And just between you and me…you are just about the handsomest gentleman that I have ever seen too, and I’ve seen a lot.”
His face falls and my heartbeat stutters uselessly, but before I even have a chance to reinforce my declaration, to try and right whatever heartache plagues this little angel's mind, he says quietly, “I hate when you’re sad. Everything gets dark and gloomy and it makes me hurt inside. I’m happy you’re okay again. And I’m glad your nightmares are gone.”
My nightmares?! Just how in the fuck?!?!?!
Before I can so much as utter another word, the boy hops off the chair and turns to face me. His eyes fall hopeful as he gazes up at me. “I have to go now, because it’s time for you to wake up. And if we never get to see each other again…I hope you don’t forget me and you always stay happy.”
What the devil?! What the hell is going on?
He scampers toward the office door and I can’t help myself, I call out to him.
“Wait!” He freezes, but doesn’t turn around. I ask him, “Why are you sad?”
His shoulders droop, but he remains with his back to me. “You’re not going to want me anymore…” he reveals like a confession. “Because of my bad blood.”

I jerk upright in bed, my hand clutching for my stomach and my breath seizing in my chest until I find a familiar baby bump and feel the telltale flutter of movement behind my skin.
With a heavy sigh of relief, I smile, basking in the slivers of sunlight that cast heat upon my cheeks with the dawn.
A deep, toe-curling voice growls at me from the left side of the bed and a strong golden arm snaps out to curl around my waist and pull me in. "What the fuck happened, doll? Why were you crying?"
Crying? What?
Touching a hand to my face, I'm surprised to see that I was in fact crying.
Huh. Weird.
With a shrug, I turn around and straddle him, grinding against his morning wood with a punishing swirl of my center. Mickey's vibrant green eyes fire to life and he thrusts upward with a roll of his hips.
I knocked out cold after our dinner last night and he and I never got to get...reacquainted. A tragedy I plan to remedy now.
Thinking about my tears, I release a breathy moan and say, "I don't know. I must have had a bad dream."
But even as I begin to move against him, ecstasy flooding my walls and preparing me for the quickest climax known to man, I know I'm not telling the whole truth about my tears.
It wasn't a bad dream exactly. Maybe, not at all. But...it was a sad one...
Now, I just have to remember why.