Chapter 141 Part 141
Emerson
She left the doctor’s office quickly, but she could still feel Asher’s presence behind her. She shouldn’t have told him about the appointments. He was going to have questions, ones she didn’t want to answer. He lost the chance to know anything else.
“Emerson, wait,” Asher said, when she reached her car.
“I’m tired, Asher. I want to go home.” She opened her door, got in her car, started it, and drove off as Asher stood looking at her.
His truck parked in the street just as she reached her front door, and she sighed. She’d known it wasn’t going to be that easy. She unlocked the door and left it open for him.
She kicked her shoes off in the living room, and headed to the kitchen. She heard the front door close, and left the bottle of juice on the table. He could help himself if he wanted anything to drink.
She found him in the living room, pacing. She sat down on the couch, and leaned back, her feet automatically going up on the ottoman. She sipped her juice and waited for him to say something.
“You really don’t want me there?” His voice was laced with sadness, and it tore at her heart.
“Things are complicated and confusing,” she said.
Asher sat down on the table, staring intently at her. “I want to be there. He’s my son, too.”
“Fine,” Emerson said. She didn’t want to fight, and relenting on this one thing was better than fighting about everything else.
“Tell me about the C-section.”
“There’s nothing to tell. In four weeks, she’ll cut me open, and take Henri out.”
“Henri?” She couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes.
“Henri was my father’s name. Ever since I found out that he’s a boy, I’ve wanted to name him Henri.”
“It’s a good name,” Asher said.
“Henri Thomas Fitzgerald.” Her voice was so soft she wasn’t sure if Asher had heard her. She looked up when Asher remained quiet and her heart broke a little more. His eyes were clenched tightly but she could see the tears that had escaped. “If you—”
“Thank you, Emerson.”
She nodded her head because she had no idea what to say. She was tired of feeling the way she felt, and tired of blaming him for not loving her. It wasn’t fair, and if the roles were reversed, she wouldn’t want him to do to her what she was doing to him right now.
“I have a lot of scarring on my uterus, so going into labor can be dangerous with the intense contractions. That’s why I have to get a C-section.”
The way he was staring at her felt like he could see into her soul. She hated the way he was looking at her, but she couldn’t look away from him. He shifted closer to her, and this time, she let him hold her hand.
“The scarring…is that because of what Grover did to you?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said, and pulled her hand away. “I’m tired, Asher. Go home.”
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly.
“You upset me every time I see you! Just leave, Asher.”
“Call me if you need to go somewhere. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. I’m here if you need me,” he said.
“I don’t have your number anymore,” she said, and almost smiled at the look on his face.
“You deleted my number?”
“I don’t want to need you, Asher. You made it clear where you stood. Please go home now, I’m fine.”
He grabbed her phone from her purse and she watched as he saved his number again. She didn’t have the energy to fight with him. She just wanted him to leave so she could finish her book and get it to her editor before the C-section.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Asher said, as he put her phone on the coffee table.
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too.”
He nodded his head, and she closed her eyes. She exhaled in relief when she heard the front door close behind him, and shifted into a more comfortable position.
She woke up later that afternoon, her phone beeping incessantly on the coffee table. Asher had sent her a few texts, and she sighed as she opened her messages.
Asher: Do you need anything from the store?
Asher: Ignoring me is not an option.
Asher: Have you had dinner yet? I can bring something over.
Asher: If you don’t reply within five minutes, I’m kicking your door down because I’m worried about you!
Emerson: I was napping. I’m fine. If you kick my door down, I’ll call the Sheriff.
Asher: He won’t arrest me. Do you want dinner?
Emerson: No. I have plenty of food.
Asher: Okay. Goodnight.
She didn’t reply and got to her feet. Henri was kicking up a storm. In the kitchen, she grabbed a tub of ice cream, and settled back on the couch. She put a movie on and ate her ice cream.
Her anger at Asher was still there, but she knew it wouldn’t last long. He’d show up again, and be himself, which was annoying, because he was always a nice guy. She sighed audibly and stared at the television.
The days passed swiftly, and Asher stopped by every single day. He checked her fridge every day, as well, probably checking to see if things had disappeared from the fridge so he knew she’d eaten. He’d said as much.
Her sketchbook was open on the couch, and her face paled when she realized that Asher was heading to the living room. She’d started dabbling in the army sketches of Morbid.
She moved as quickly as she could, but he was already flipping through the pages. He glanced at her over his shoulder for a few seconds, and continued looking at her work.
“These are really good,” he said, after a while.
“It’s just some drawings. I was bored.”
Something flashed in his eyes. “You should use them. Morbid looks good in a combat uniform.”
“Yeah, maybe.”