If We Love Again

Chapter 23

        “I see.” I answer, trying to hide the uneasiness and aggravation in my tone.

        He grabs my hand and entwines our fingers. “I dated a lot of women before. I fell in-love with them at some point, but it never lasted,” he admits, “I couldn’t give my whole self to any of them. Love just wasn’t enough—it cannot complete me. I needed someone who could fill that hollowness in my heart, and that someone was you.”

        His words are so reassuring. All the insecurities I have instantly subsided.

        

• • •

        

        MOM BOMBARDS ME WITH CALLS about the upcoming dinner. I don’t really want to go. I don’t know how to face them. I’m pretty sure it’ll all end in disaster. Mom loves to jeopardize me in front of people, babbling about her disappointments.

        I nearly threw my phone in frustration.

        I massage my temple and sit on the couch. Earl must’ve noticed my distress, he asks, “What’s wrong? You look vexed.”

        “It’s just mom. She wants me to go to that family dinner.”

        “Don’t stress yourself too much, okay?” he scolds gently, “I wouldn’t want you to harm the baby.”

        I smile at his thoughtfulness. He sits beside me and caresses my stomach. I’m really lucky to have him. 

        

• • •

         

        I END UP ATTENDING THE FAMILY DINNER in spite of myself. And as usual, it is grand. The event is held in a five-star French restaurant. Mom likes anything extravagant; she never minds the money as long as it pleases her. She has high standards in everything. And I haven’t passed that standard.

        My stomach churns. I’m really nervous about what’s coming. It feels like something bad is going to happen. I’ve predicted it. I just hope that my premonition is wrong, though. Most of the time, my intuition never leads me astray.

        I already told Earl that I’d be going. He really isn’t fond with the idea—it can possibly stress me out, but I still insist. Hell would rise if I won’t ever make an appearance. I promised that I’d go home early; I’ll stay for just an hour and after that, I’ll leave.

        The restaurant is pristine. The waiters and servers wear immaculate clothing. The area has exclusivity. And only the members of the Clarkson family are allowed to enter.

        I am donned in a silver empire waist dress. I’m kinda’ comfortable with my outfit. My stomach still isn’t swelling, but my tummy still needs space. I don’t wear any high heels; it requires a lot of force to walk with it.

        I’ve reunited with my cousins—whom I had last encountered years ago. They are amicable and nice despite all the vitriol mom threw at me the last time we had a family gathering.

        Zabrina is also an attendee, just by the looks of it; I know that she’s somehow forced into this. She has an unpaintable frown on her face. She shows that expression every time she’s against something. “Zab!” I call out.

        She acknowledges my presence “Oh, hi, sis,” she says dully.

        “You sure enjoy it here, huh,” I utter sarcastically.