Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 89683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
When he got there, he walked into a quiet house. Jayme’s truck was there, but there were no signs of him. He checked the kitchen, before going upstairs. He found Jayme in his old room, which they had converted into the nursery; leaning on the rail of the crib with his head hanging.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
A sob broke out of Jayme, and he covered his mouth with one hand. Tripp rushed over and gathered him up in his arms. Jayme’s shoulders shook as he cried. He hugged him tight.
“How could she...do this to me?” Jayme said between sobs.
“Because she’s an evil cunt. But you listen to me...” he said, and grabbed Jayme by his shoulders so that they could look at each other. His eyes welled, and his bottom lip trembled as he talked. The devastation on Jayme’s face was killing him. “...We can still have a baby. We’ll adopt or find a surrogate. We can still do this. You and me. If that’s what you want.”
He swiped at the tears pouring down Jayme’s face. “You would want that?” Jayme asked.
Tripp smiled as his own tears slipped down his face. “With you? Yes. I’d want that.”
“I can’t handle it right now...”
“It doesn’t have to be right away, Love. It can be a year, two years from now; but know that we can do it on our own. We don’t need her. We’ll find a surrogate and have our own baby that’s both of ours.”
Jayme nodded. “Okay.”
“Everything’s going to be okay. I promise. Just...forget about Mallory. We’ll do this without her in our lives. It’ll be better this way. We don’t ever have to see her again.”
Jayme nodded again. Tripp pulled him back into a hug and just held him until he stopped crying. Jayme then wanted to be alone for a little while, he left him in the nursery and went downstairs to give him some space.
About a half hour later, Jayme came down with his ringing phone in his hand. He handed it to Tripp.
“I can’t tell them. Can you please talk to them? They keep calling me,” Jayme said softly.
He looked at the screen to see that it was Jayme’s mom, Mary. “Yeah, sure.”
“Thanks,” Jayme replied, and went back upstairs.
Tripp answered the phone. It was torture to tell Jayme’s family what had happened, and that Jayme wasn’t in the position to talk right now. They were sad and hurt, obviously, but they understood that Jayme wanted space and time to process what had happened.
He made dinner, then went upstairs to check on Jayme. Jayme was sitting in the glider in the nursery rocking slightly, staring off at nothing. He went over and smoothed his hand over his short auburn hair.
“Hey, babe. I made dinner, you want to come eat?”
Jayme shook his head. “I’m not hungry,” he murmured.
He sighed. “All right. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
“Thanks,” Jayme whispered.
He went back downstairs and ate by himself. He hated seeing Jayme like this. He wished there were more he could do, but he didn’t know what. He felt helpless. He was hurt too. The love he felt for the baby got torn away. It was painful. He couldn’t imagine how Jayme must be feeling. The loss is immense. He was in mourning.
Later that night, he locked up and shut out all the lights; then headed up to bed. Jayme was already in bed, lying on his side; his back to the door. Tripp wasn’t sure if he was sleeping or not, he quietly got ready for bed; and slipped under the covers. Jayme didn’t budge. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know if Jayme wanted comfort or space; he laid on his back and tried to fall asleep. A few minutes later, Jayme rolled over; and snuggled against his side. He inwardly sighed in relief, then tried his best to fall asleep. It was hard when the day kept replaying in his head.
~~~
Tripp
Jayme called out of work for the rest of the week. He hadn’t eaten anything and had mostly stayed in bed all day. Tripp was getting tired of it. He understood that he was mourning the loss of a baby that he thought was his for nine months, but he couldn’t live like this, it wasn’t healthy.
He got home from work that Friday and went up in their room to get changed; and found Jayme still in bed, in the same clothes he was in on Wednesday. He got changed out of his uniform, then went to Jayme’s side of the bed and sat down next to him.
“Jayme. It’s time to get out of this bed. You need a shower, a change of clothes, and you need to eat.”
“I don’t want to,” Jayme murmured in return.
“This is getting out of hand now. I understand how devastated you are, but you can’t live like this. You’re falling into a depression.”