I Can't Walk Away Chapter 9

Mika's Note: More bad words and emotional wounding...

If you had asked me if I could managed four months without Jonas in my life, I’d have laughed at you. I thought I was going to die during his three-week hiatus not so very long ago, so four months would have certainly been a death sentence.

Somehow I managed. I think it’s because it wasn’t my choice and having that choice taken away makes all the difference in the world. So, I suppose he helped me out there at least.

For the first week, he continued to come in every morning for his routine chocolate milk, chatting me up, pretending like we’d never been lovers. However, the dark circles under my eyes and my sad face must’ve driven him away because he stopped coming in after that. It was probably for the best.

But it still sucks.

Until today.

Approaching my last few weeks of pregnancy, my life had suddenly gone to hell in a handbasket. Out of nowhere I start dropping things. Constantly. They tell me that this is normal but nooooo… I can’t take it! I’m clumsy as it is, I so do not need any help. And the tripping and stumbling are out of control. Again, all normal they say. I think I hate them. But then, I’m so confused anymore that I can’t really be sure. Someone told me that losing my brains is all part and parcel of the pregnancy gig, but again, who the hell knows anymore?

So, I’d just knocked over a stack of plastic cold drink cups and was scraping them together when I heard that laugh. Yeah, that very same laugh that I’d fallen in love with. That laugh that used to whisper in my ear during while basking in the glow of our time together. It was a good thing I was already on my hands and knees on the floor because my knees gave out the moment that glorious sound reached my ears.

Using the gibungous espresso machine as cover, I peeked over the edge of the counter and confirmed my fears. Jonas. In my store, again. Granted, they’d swapped my shifts again temporarily and I by rights shouldn’t have been there at that moment. But there he stood, with Macy and another unknown, if handsome, man. Macy had started wearing maternity clothes despite not needing them quite yet and she stood, quietly rubbing her belly and sighing, inviting strangers to touch and question. Stupid attention-seeking cow.

Taking a deep breath, I gathered the cups to me and tried to crab walk over to the trash can. Be small, be small… was my chant. Should have been be invisible I now realize. Too late.

“Morgan!” my manager cried out in shock. “What are you walking like that for?” I’d bent myself over to carry the cups and not be seen at the same time.

“Umm,” I stalled, not really knowing what I was supposed to tell her. Didn’t matter because she interrupted me before I could think of an excuse.

“Well, whatever the reason, stop it this instance!” Her shrill voice had attracted the attention of everyone in the store, employee and customer alike. “You’ll throw your back out and be on bed rest from now until the baby comes!” She tugged the tower of plastic cups out of my hands and stormed off with them, leaving me exposed and without any cover.

And with Jonas’ eyes focused squarely on me. And my huge belly.

His wide, wide eyes and pale face.

“Morgan Delaney,” he growled, glaring angrily at me. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Jonas?” his friend began, trying to keep the situation from exploding.

Jonas pushed past Mr. Hottie and stalked towards the counter, behind which I stood, scared half to death.

“I asked you a question!”

“Jonas!” Thank God for Macy. I never thought I’d be happy to hear her voice. “What are you doing? How do you know,” she waved her hand vaguely in my direction, “this girl?” Ahh, demoted.

“Later, Macy,” he turned back to me. “I asked you a question, Morgan,” he repeated for like the gazillionth time. “And I want an answer.”

He’d gotten snotty with the wrong person, because I’m not only pregnant and cranky, but I’m a natural smartass. And that’s never a good combination. “Gee, Jonas,” I sang as sweet as cotton candy, “I was just stacking a pile of cups when clumsy ol’ me knocked them over and onto the floor. And you know how clumsy I can be,” and here I resisted the urge to grin, “still feel bad about the black eye I gave you that night.”

When his jaw hit the floor, I let myself smile. He’d hurt me and I dealt with that. However, I was not going to allow him to talk to me like that. Not now, not ever. Macy was oscillating between pale and a lovely pink blush, confused as to whether she should be angry or embarrassed. Mr. Hottie seemed to be battling the smile crossing his face and losing.

“And now,” I continued, even more sweetly, “I must return to work. Supporting this baby of yours on my own isn’t easy.”

I fled to the back room before the tears could break and embarrass me any more than I’d already embarrassed myself. Closing the coat closet behind me, I could hear Macy’s high voice battling it out with Jonas’ deeper, sexier one. And how sad does that make me? He just humiliated me in front of my customers and my co-workers and I still can’t help but remember how sexy he is?

Try as I might, I just can’t walk away.