A Pretty Little Pregnancy

Famous Exit

*Spencer's POV*

I put on my sunglasses as I walked out of the rehab center. They were going to drive me home. I'd had a few setbacks, but for the most part, I was drug free. I had dealt with my problems. They would always be there. Baggage that I had to carry for life. The fact that I had cheated would never change. The fact that I'd had a miscarriage would never change. But that wouldn't define me anymore. It had happened. But it wouldn't change my life. 

I was dropped off at my house where surprisingly (not) nobody was home. I walked up to my room and grabbed my car keys. Somebody had been kind enough to drive my car home. I walked outside and drove to Toby's apartment. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. I waited a few minutes, and then turned away, walking back down the steps, before I heard the door open. 

"Spencer," he said, his voice low and cautious. I turned to look up at him. His hair was wet and there was a towel around his waist. 

"Toby," I said. 

"I was in the shower. I didn't hear you," he said. I walked back up the steps until I was just outside of his door. 

"That's ok. Listen, Toby, I'm so sorry for everything. I had a lot of time in rehab to just sit and think. My head was clear, and there was no way I could fog it up. All the thoughts that I was trying to avoid came crashing back, and in rehab, I couldn't escape them with alcohol or drugs. So I just had to think the thoughts I didn't want to. 

"That includes how I went to bars, underage and got drunk. How I always found a way to get high no matter what problem I was faced with. How I cheated on you. And then got pregnant with a baby that wasn't yours.  And then....then I...I killed it. Because I kept drinking and doing drugs. And I'm so sorry. You told me in the hospital that I should come talk to you when I got out of rehab. But while I was in rehab, I realized what a bitch I am. So I get it. I get it if you never want to see my face again. Because I screwed up. Big time. I know that now. But I also know that you don't have to deal with my shit if you don't want to. So please, just tell me if you want me to leave," I said. He didn't say anything. He just looked at me. I took a deep breath and turned around, getting the hint. He wanted me to leave. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked. 

"I get it. You don't want me anymore," I said, just as he grabbed me arm and pulled me into a heated kiss. 

"Why do you think I don't want you?" He asked, breaking away for a moment to ask the question. 

"Because of all the shitty things I've done," I said. 

"I forgive you," he said, pulling me into his apartment, shutting the door and throwing me down on the couch, pulling off his towel and working on my buttons.