Past Lovers

Past Lovers. 22

Life back in New York City was going well. We both really needed the trip to California, and came back with new perspectives.

Hayden got a phone call while we were on vacation. One of the firms that rivaled her old company had her about her struggle. They proposed a solution, and offered her a new job, where she could meet her full potential and not have to worry about intereference.

She was finally in a good place with her life. And so was I.

I had been writing more and more every day. Now that Hayden and I were back together, the words practically wrote themselves. Every day was filled with love.

The first Sunday back, we went for a stroll through central park. Under the sunlight, we held onto each other, laughing and chatting. 

We always kept our conversation light. There was no need for heavy talk of change. We were happy as we were. For once, we finally focused on the present. No talk of the past, and certainly no talk of the future. Our motto became "one day at a time."

And it worked for us. Because every day was better than the last. No better way to start the day than waking up next to the person you love. 

We were crazy about each other. I don't know how we surpressed our feelings for so long. But since we had, it was almost like all the feelings we had bottled up in for years just gushed out of us. Sometimes, after we would share a bottle of wine together every evening on my balcony that overlooked the city, Hayden would whisper secrets to me in her low, melodic voice.

"I don't know how I ever lived without you in my life."

"I don't know why I tried to replace you, tried to forget you."

"I only feel safe when I have you by my side."

These words that she shared fueled my passion for her. These were the words I was always waiting to hear, dying to hear.

I felt guilty sometimes though. Whenever Hayden would losen her tongue, mine stood stiff in the back of my throat. For some reason, I couldn't open up to her, I couldn't share the words that I so desperately wanted to write.

I have always had difficulty with communicating. I can never articulate what I want to say. Not verbally, at least. That's why I liked writing. That's why I was good at writing. 

My goal was to finish my second novel by the end of the month. Already in contact with my editor, I pursued him to follow up with publishing as soon as he was done overlooking it all. I wanted it to rush to print as soon as possible.

Then I could reveal all that had to be said. Then I could tell her that she was the most important thing in my life, that I loved her more than anything in the world, more than anyone else in the world, including myself. Then I could tell her that I wanted to spent the rest of my life with her, till the day that I died, kissing her with my last and final breath.

My goal, however, was slightly interrupted a few weeks after we got back.

Hayden had been feeling under the weather. She had to call out of work a few times, sick with a stomach flu we believed. When finally I ordered to her to see a doctor, she came back with tears flooding to her eyes.

"It's not the flu," she kept sobbing over and over again. 

I tried my best to console her, and tried to pry the news out of her, but she couldn't articulate. For whatever reason, she couldn't say it aloud.

My head began to swirl with questions, terrible questions like was it cancer?

I mean, how else was I supposed to act. She comes back from the doctor, sobbing her eyes out, and won't tell me what it was, what was I supposed to think?

Eventually, I got fed up.

"Hayden, tell me what they said, or else I can't help you and I won't stick around," I said firmly.

She grew silent, and looked at me with her glassy beautiful eyes. "Chase?"

I nodded. Her face grew pale, and she almost looked like she was going to faint.

"I'm pregnant."

***

Well no surprise there, right guys? Everyone pretty much guessed it. 

Oh well, so much for a cliff hanger.