𝙈𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙣
⊱ ─────────── ⊰

It's been a quiet ride since we left the hotel. Our appointment with Rita was interesting to say the least. So much that I didn't know was revealed. I was speechless after hearing what Chris said. I can't imagine how much pain he was in to resort to that. I've selfishly been thinking he didn't even care about me.

So much about him is different now, it's more than his voice. Something clicked, I just don't know if it's on or off now.

I pay the cab diver since Chris has had no money on him (because he left it all behind) and hop out, following Chris.

We're outside of a pretty large estate.

"Marsha lives here?" I ask, staring around at the place.

Chris walks ahead, not dignifying me with a response or even a cold glare.

"Okay, wait!" I yell, catching up to him before he reaches the front door.

Chris clenches his jaw and stares over my head.
"What?" His vocal fry always awakens something in me.

"We haven't talked about what you said in therapy. I-I'm sorry, Chris."

"For what?" He barks.

I grab him by the arm and force him to listen for a second.
"I didn't know how you felt because you left me and didn't call, of course I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me."

"Everything I've done for the past three years is for you. That wouldn't stop for anything, no matter how far I am or how long I'm gone, Morgan."

I nod my head, understanding. "I know."

"No you don't because you came here and took me back but you're torturing me with the hot and cold treatment. If you still want me, I don't want to be in fucking trouble for some shit I did when I wasn't in my right mind."

"I-I'm sorry."

"Stop saying that."

"Well I am. Chris, you— you tried to kill yourself." I mutter quietly, looking down at our feet.

"I don't want to talk about that ever again, alright?"

Looking up at me with teary eyes, I say, "You need help, Chris."

"I don't need anything but to go in here and see my son."

Posture giving up, I slouch and my lips form a frown. "Maybe I was trying too hard to be here for you, Chris. I-I don't know if I can do this."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes." I blurt easily but begrudgingly, arms folded across my chest.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes!"

"Then what the fuck, Morgan, you're the one who told me to do this?"

I swipe my hands down my face. "I don't know what I want to do."

Chris exhales deeply. "This isn't easy for you. I know what I want, but I can't force you to play stepmom."

"What are you saying?" I ask Chris with my eyebrows furrowed.

He shrugs. "Let's just go in here and meet the kid. We can talk about this later."

Chris turns and ascends the stairs but I stand at the bottom of them, crying as I debate if I am ready for this or not.

I weep into my hands and try hard to pull myself together but I just can't.

"Go without me." I shudder.

Chris stops his hand from knocking on the door. He stomps down to me and sighs.

"This isn't something that you'll decide overnight. Why don't you go home and think about it? I promise I'll come home in a few more days - a week. I just wanna at least meet him and then decide." Chris speaks so sincerely.

He presses his lips to my forehead and then lifts my chin before he goes back up the stairs to knock on the black Iron Paris double doors.

"—Thank you, Annette. Really." I talk on the phone.

"Don't thank me so much, Morgan, it's my job." Detective Butler speaks through a small chuckle.

"I know, but I ask you for so much." I feel guilty.

"If you didn't, I wouldn't get paid." She makes me laugh.

"Is it weird that I missed you?"

"Normal people would just call and say hello, not ask me to steal a DNA sample."

I giggle, kicking a rock along the road. "Well, I don't think there's anything normal about my life now."

"You and me both, sister. So, how is the big guy holding up? I take it not well."

"Oh, he's practically already saving for the baby's college."

"That excited, hm?"

"It's just that he's always wanted this, you know? This so-called American Dream: boy meets girl, lands a good job, moves into a nice home, marriage and a baby."

"I recall that being your dream?"

"It was..." I falter.

"What happened?"

"Sabrina. What if because I hate her so much, I can't like the baby?"

"Honestly, Morgan, you were made to be a mother, I doubt you'll let this petty beef stop you from nurturing Chris's child."

"But what if it does?" I stop in front of the gate.

A sudden gust of warm air blows across my face as I stare into the distance.

"Don't let it," is Annette's response.

"Hey," she coos after pausing for a beat. "I'll find out what I can and call you. In the meantime, keep your head up, okay? This isn't just about you and Chris anymore."

"Thanks, Annette." I reply, pulling the phone away from my ear.

Hanging up, I take a deep breath and try to think positively. My head is all over the place. All I know for sure is that I love Chris and he has a baby by someone neither of us can stand. He says she doesn't have much longer left and perhaps that's why Chris is even more eager to have custody of Hayes, so Marsha isn't left with him, because the whole family is likely full of nut jobs.

Having made my mind up, I conjure up the strength to go inside.

It's been half an hour, I'm sure they are acquainted by now - Chris and his son.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

I pound my fist but not for long. Someone opens it - a woman. She is dangerously thin and short. She wears red, gel nails and mauve lipstick.

Her hair is brown and in a tight bob just below her ear.

"Morgan, it's nice to finally meet you." She says through a regal voice.

"Uh, hi. I wish I could say the same." I don't mean to be rude but it probably came off that way.

She laughs small. "Come in."

I let her show me inside and compliment her on having such a nice home. You can tell the place was carefully designed and specifically decorated. What bothers me is the abundance of family photos along the walls. It blows my mind to see that Sabrina had so much love in her life and still turned out the way she did. And Cleo, she looked so happy, too. I wonder where it all went wrong.
I notice their father, the man who adopted Sabrina, that Cleo claims ruined her life. He looks confident in his posture but in every photo, his eyes were dark. In most of the photographs, he was the only one looking directly at the camera. Hm.

"I can give you a tour later, would you like to follow me to the family room and meet little Hayes?" Her voice sneaks up on me.

My initial reaction is to tell her to fuck off. I want to burn this house down solely because she's related to Sabrina and I figure she must be crooked, as well.

"Sure." I agree plainly.

As I trail Mrs.Bowie, I cross my arms over my chest and hold my elbows to self-soothe.

The closer we get to the family room, the louder my heart beats. It's pounding in my chest, not allowing me to have any thoughts other than the ones focusing on my heart rate.

Suddenly, however, the thumping behind my ribs halts.

"I'm your dad." I hear Chris say as clear as day.

Nothing else seems to matter. Not anymore.

Chris is a father, the realization finally sinks in.

I wasn't sure how I would take to him in this role, but seeing my fiancé with his first born, sparks something within me. He looks so natural, being fatherly.

Chris is gentle, patient, and supportive. He cradles Hayes's head so tenderly, I assume it's a parental instinct.

This warm, wide smile never leaves Christopher's face. Not even after Hayes makes a mess in his diaper.

"Oh," Marsha chuckles sincerely. "someone needs a diaper changed. Here, Chris, I'll-"

"I can do it," he insists, looking around.

Since I'm next to the wipes and diapers, I hand them to Chris.

Without a "thank you" to me, he lies the baby on the couch over a blankie and proceeds like a professional. No, diaper changing isn't rocket science, I just didn't expect Chris to know how to do it already, let alone so neat, soothingly or timely.

I'm starting to think that in another life maybe he's done this before, I talk to myself in my head.

When Chris is through with that, he comes back into the room from disposing of the diaper, bouncing Hayes in his arms.

I sniffled away the emotion that's arising and try to look happy. Chris does.

His eyes cut to me once and then quickly again.

"Do you want to hold him?" Asks Chris with a wry smile.

"Me? Oh— I— n-no. I couldn't, no. Really?" The words come out of my mouth without making much sense.

Chris and Marsha laugh so I do, too, just to be in on the joke.

"Here, sit down." Chris instructs me.

Once I'm sat and situated on the couch in a manner that he approves of, Chris introduces his son to me.

He kneels on the floor and looks between Hayes and I with a very fond grin.

"Say 'hi.'" Marsha encourages me.

I cut my eyes from her and fix them to be more kind once they fall onto the yawning baby.

"Aww!" I squeal.

"He has Chris's nose and eyes." Marsha talks with a smile but I don't see it.

There's a joy in her voice that makes me shudder.

I stare down at the six-month-old baby and look at his nose. Next, his eyes when he blinks them open.

Without hesitation, I stand and pass the baby to Chris.

I gulp hard and watch him embrace this baby without asking me what's wrong all of a sudden. He doesn't read my face or even give me another glance, just rocks Hayes to sleep.

I feel a lot of emotion overcoming me as a proud smile crawls onto Chris's face. It's like, I don't want to see him so happy with this kid.

"Want me to show you out?" Asks Marsha.

I look up her and down, wondering why she's studying me more than watching her grandson, or Chris.

"I can show myself out." I insist, snatching my purse off of the couch.

When I reach for the handle to slam it shut, I notice Marsha standing there, holding it open.

She confronts me with a cold smirk. "Don't worry, Morgan," she tells me. "not everyone can jump into the role of a mother. Chris, is a natural, though, and I know he'll take good care of Hayes. Don't worry, the baby won't take up too much of his attention. Chris just has a lot of catching up to do, you understand that, right?"

I don't dignify her with a response. Something tells me she— like her daughter— is getting off on my vulnerability.