Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Ainsley

Ainsley, age twenty-one…

When I was eleven, nothing happened, but it almost did.

I almost died.

Like any other child, I was energetic. Unexpectedly, I began to feel tired. Too tired. I had nausea, headaches, and I just didn't feel right. I fainted during a hike. When I woke up in the hospital room, my bodyguard—and guardian—said I'd be all right. I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes.

My parents researched everything they could. I learned to take care of myself. But that day when nothing happened—but it almost did—is always in the back of my mind.

When I experience migraines, I check my insulin levels and sometimes my parents send me to the doctor. That was then, when we had better communication. When we had a relationship. My relationship with Porter has become a wall between us that keeps getting bigger and bigger every single day.

Now… well, now I don't know what to do because I'm not feeling well.

Porter was here yesterday and told me I look weak and pale. He barely touched me. I don't understand his moods. A month ago, he couldn't get enough of me, and now… he acts as if he is disgusted with me. He insisted I go to the doctor, but my sugar levels were fine. When I reminded him that my parents wanted to visit me, he shut me down.

They can't know where I live. If I need to go, I can pay for my ticket. I told him it was time to tell them. He got so angry with me.

"You want us to come out of the closet?" It was a cruel comment.

He knows how I yearn for my parents to finally be truthful. Before I could speak, he said, "Can you stop being selfish for once and think about others, Ainsley?"

He left upset because I've become needy. Sometimes, Porter feels like the only person who's part of my world, but he's never around.

The next week, I go to the doctor. The diagnosis is… well, it's unexpected.

I'm pregnant.

How can I be when we've been so careful? I find it's almost impossible to breathe. I dial my parents' numbers several times, but I never dare call them. They're going to be disappointed, and can I even tell them who the father is? What is Porter going to say? I'm afraid of his reaction.

He's never hurt me, but sometimes I feel like he wants to slap me so I'll shut up. I just want to crawl under my bed and disappear. Which I don't do because I have to keep a routine or I'll make myself sick. For a week, I wake up every morning feeling like I'm going to die, follow my daily schedule, and go back to bed wanting to perish.

On Saturday morning, I finally call the one person I can always count on… Mason. But I only get his voicemail.

"Hey, it's me. Ainsley. I know we haven't seen each other in years, but… I kind of need you. You'll probably get this in a week, a month, or… who knows if you'll receive it. When you do, give me a call. I need a friend." I burst into tears.

It's around midnight when I hear the doorbell. When I go to open the door, it's him. Mason. He takes me into his arms and squeezes me tightly as if making sure that I'm okay. I'm not. I cry for a long time and then fall asleep.

I wake up on Sunday to the smell of oranges and syrup. When I open my eyes, I see him, Mason, holding a tray.

"Morning," I greet him. "I thought…"

"I was a dream."

"Yeah. It's been a long week."

"I brought you some breakfast."

"That's a lot of food."

He winks. "We're sharing while you tell me what's happening with you."

I close my eyes, and then in one exhale, I say, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh."

"My parents are going to kill me. Porter…"

"He better not touch you," he says with a warning voice.

"He wouldn't," I assure him. "He loves me."

Mason stares at the bacon on the tray and then says, "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know. I feel like the world is about to swallow me. What am I supposed to do with a baby?"

"Love him." It's such a simple response.

So easy, but why does it feel like the most complicated problem I've ever had in my entire life? Porter. Porter isn't going to like it.

"What if Porter doesn't want my baby?" My hand automatically goes to my flat stomach. I'm already feeling protective.

"Then, you dump him."

I snort. "You say it as if it's easy."

"It's pretty simple. You can just say, fuck you." He squeezes my hand. "I'll take care of you and the baby. I promise."

Things are always so easy with Mason. But he's always so far away. "Where have you been?"

"I can't tell you."

"Playing video games?"

He chuckles. "Of course. That's all I do every day."

That's when I notice a scar on his left eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

He shrugs as if saying, it's nothing.

"Mason?"

"What if I tell you the other guy looks worse?"

"Though I believe you, I want you to be careful, okay?"

He nods. "Anything for you, Nine."

"Ainsley," I argue, smiling widely.

And for one day, everything feels normal.

Safe.

Monday afternoon, when I'm back from school, Porter is in the foyer, walking like a trapped lion from one side to the other. "What was so important that you made my security team bring me to you?"

"Hi," I greet him.

"Why the fuck am I here?"

I shrug.

"They said it was important."

"Who is they?"

"Arthur Bradley." The name echoes through the house. "I'm going to fire his fucking company. Anyone can be a mall cop."

His eyes are bloodshot, and he is so angry, I almost beg him to forgive me for… I have no idea what I did to him. I'm just conditioned to please him. It's all I've done for the past four years. Try to make him happy, but it's almost impossible.

I remember what Mason told me yesterday, if he leaves, let him go. You don't need him. You have people who love you. I had no idea things were so bad between the two of you.

Mason was upset, but not with me, with himself. He thinks Porter is abusing me. I don't think that's the case. He's never hurt me. Still, I think he's right. This relationship has to improve, or I'm going to have to leave him. If not for me, for my baby.

I touch my belly and say, "I don't know why you're here, but I'm glad you came. As you might know by the number of texts and voicemails I sent you yesterday, I have some news."

"What do you want?" he growls.

"I'm pregnant." I sound like a lost mouse. I clear my voice. "I realize this isn't how we planned things?—"

"This was never part of my plan, Ainsley," he interrupts me. His bloodshot eyes stare down at me. "You can't just get pregnant to force me to… what are you trying to accomplish with this?"

"Me?"

He's doing it again, making me feel like I'm offending him—hurting him with my words. I feel like a liar, a… bad person. Why is he doing this to me? He loves me, doesn't he? "It was both of us. This baby is ours."

"I have to practice, to work, and I have shit to do, AJ." He grabs his luggage and pivots around. "We'll talk about this shit later."

"It's a baby, not shit." I hug myself tightly. "Are you leaving?" I hate the panic in my voice. I'm desperate to stop him, to ask him to forgive me.

My baby is first, and I know it. Maybe if he meets him, he'll learn to accept him. "We have an appointment later this week… the sonogram of the baby."

"Do I get any say about this shit you threw at me, AJ?" His back tenses. He doesn't turn around. "Half of that is mine. What if I don't want it?"

That question is a slap in the face, and this time, I fight back. "I don't need you. Walk away and leave us alone."

I head to the stairs. It's over.

"Baby, I can't live without you. You're my support, my muse. You're the air I breathe. All I need to survive."

I hold onto the railing. "Please, Porter, don't make me choose," I beg.

"Think about what you're doing to me. To us." The warning in his voice takes all the air from my lungs, and I can't breathe. "We're an epic story, don't crush it, babe."

But he's the one that's demolishing it. What am I supposed to do?