Nearly an entire month came and went in the blink of an eye. My studies had consumed me entirely. After Boston had left, at the beginning of the month, I hadn't seen him since. He's been just as busy with work as I've been with school.
I'd called Jamie after Boston had left and what ensued was a rather ugly argument. Never in my life have I argued with Jamie. He's my brother, always been my protector, but what had happened with Boston was not okay. I could tell that, even after I had explained what had really happened, Jamie was still not a fan of Boston. I could tell by the tone of his voice, what I would usually think was sentiment for him, just pure sarcasm.
It's partially why I'm not going home for Thanksgiving this year. I don't want to put up with him or my mother pestering me if I'm okay. As I had suspected, Jamie had told her but thankfully only her. At least he hadn't been that much of a dick to tell my dad and my mother knew better than to say anything. She knows my father's temper.
When I had told my father I wouldn't be coming home for the break he was not pleased in the least. Especially when he heard I would be flying on a private jet alone to meet up with Boston. He was going to pick me up at the airport and we'd be staying at his home. My father hated all of those details, every single one. He made sure to tell me that I better plan on coming home for Christmas or he'd personally fly to wherever I am to 'bring my ass back home to spend time with the family'.
I fidget nervously with a stray strand of hair thinking about meeting Boston's family. We're doing Thanksgiving dinner at his grandparents' house, the ones on his mother's side.
I'd known Carter's family for forever. His siblings were like my siblings. It was that way with his entire family as well. I'd never met family at a holiday event, like I was about to. It was a bit nerve racking for me but I would be with Boston and Boston makes everything better.
My husband.
That thought enters my mind every now and again, that I'm married. For the most part though, it doesn't really feel like I am. Feels like we're just dating, not legally bound to one another. I guess the weight hasn't settled in quite yet. Hell. Maybe it never would with him.
I grab ahold of my ring as the plane begins to descend. I wonder what people would think if I started wearing the ring on the finger it belongs on. An announcement to the world that I am taken. Nineteen and married. My father would shit a brick.
I hadn't told a single soul about our impromptu wedding. It was just between Boston and I, it was our secret. It reminds me of why he is the way he is. So ready and down for anything because he doesn't know how much time he has left. Tears prick my eyes at the thought of losing him.
I'd been super emotional over the last week, overwhelmingly so. My period had been a couple of days late so I'd freaked out and taken numerous pregnancy tests. All of which came back negative, thank God. But that had made me think about us having kids. I am way too young to be thinking about having kids but I couldn't help the thoughts of raising children with him.
It scared the crap out of me.
The jet lands and I feel jittery and jumpy. I can't wait to see Boston, be in his arms again. I hated being away from him. In reality, our relationship has been spent with more time apart than together.
The stewardess walks through the sitting area and goes over to the door, telling me it's time to get off. I get up and go to grab my bag. Once the doors open I see Boston at the bottom of the stairs with Rhoen; his dad. I didn't know his dad was going to be here.
"Monica, it's nice to see you again. You look well." He greeted me once I reached to bottom of the stairs.
"Hello, Rho— uhm, Mr. Rearick."
"You can call me Rhoen, that's fine." He grabs Boston's shoulder tightly. "I heard you've been making my son very happy." My eyes flicker to Boston's and he gives me a small smile.
"I hope I have been because he's made me very happy as well."
"You've made me extremely happy." He pulls me into him and places a giant kiss on my lips. "So so happy." I blush profusely when he lets me go.
"I'm happy to hear it." Rhoen looks between the two of us. "You make a lovely pair, truly." Boston hugs me tightly into his side at that. "Well, I should be off. I hope the flight was enjoyable."
"It was great, Rhoen, thank you."
"Any time." He looks to Boston. "Have a fun time with your mother. I'll be back next week. I've set up the other jet to take her home on the date you requested, so she's all set."
"Thanks dad."
"No problem, son. Take care of this one." He points to me.
"Will do."
Without another word, Rhoen takes the steps two at a time until he's all the way up. I look back at Boston and swat him with, "you should've told me your dad was going to be here!"
He throws up his hands. "I would've told you if I knew. He just showed up. Guess he's heading to California to meet up with his new girlfriend."
"Interesting."
"Yeah, I've never met her and he's never talked about her before. So it's got to be a new thing. I don't really know. Then again, I don't really care." He runs his hand through his hair. "You ready to go home?"
"You make it sound like it's my home too."
"You're my wife. What's mine is yours. So yeah, technically it is your home too."
Oh.
"Yeah, let's go home then." He takes my hand and leads me to the car.
"Our home..." He'd pondered after starting up the car. "For some reason I really like the sound of that."
✩✩✩
I had once thought my father was the biggest hard-ass in the world. Boston's mother though, she'd give my dad a run for his money. She was not particularly warm with me, no, she was actually pretty frigid.
His brother was sweet, as were his grandparents. I'd met his uncle, Cole, who is extremely handsome and very similar looking to his sister, Boston's mom. The two of them were almost too pretty. Boston had gotten his build from his father for sure, but his looks came from his mother.
I had tried to get her to warm up to me. I'd helped as much as I could but she seemed to not want anything to do with me. Boston had squeezed my thigh reassuringly during dinner about twenty times. But I still got the vibe that she definitely did not like me and was extremely protective of her son.
"You look like you're thinking too hard, over there." I sip the cocktail Boston had made for me once we'd gotten back to the house. I didn't really want to have this conversation yet, especially under the influence. "What's on your mind?"
"Your mother hates me," I blurted out, feeling more of my inhibitions fleeing me by the second. We shouldn't be having this conversation right now. I know.
"It's not that she hates you. It's that she's really suspicious of the women I bring into my life." Because he's from money. Oh great. His mother thinks I'm a gold digger. Wonderful. "She'll warm up to you eventually. I've told her how important you are to me and that you're not going anywhere."
"I wonder what she would say if she knew we got hitched."
"Probably the same thing that your father would say, I'd imagine." He's got a valid point there. "Do you want to tell them soon?" I can't help the stupid giggle that leaves my mouth at that question.
He's got to be out of his mind.
"Hellllll no." He snorts out a laugh at that and I finish the rest of my drink. "We can stay secretly married for the rest of time as far as I'm concerned. No one has to know."
"For the rest of time? I don't think I like that idea. I want to tell people you're my wife someday."
"Okay. I guess maybe we can tell them one day. Probably better for us to be married then me just getting pregnant by my boyfriend. Like husband definitely sounds better than boyfriend in that circumstance."
"Wait... what?" I look away from him when I notice his uneasy stance.
"Oh nothing." I set my empty glass down realizing that I'd let that last bit slip out unintentionally. Alcohol really does take away any filters.
"Monica... why would you say that? You don't just say stuff like that. Did you... are you...?"
"No, no I'm not pregnant. Obviously." I gesture down to my empty glass, still not making eye contact. "I was talking theoretically, that's all." He doesn't say anything so I look up to him. His features are tense as he stares down at the tumbler in his hand. "Boston?"
Nothing.
"Boston?"
"I may not want to have children, Monica. I'm actually pretty certain I don't." He won't look at me, just stares at his drink because Boston knows me. Boston knows that was apart of my original life plan. Children were always a part of my foreseeable future.
"I think I'm ready to go to sleep. I've had too much to drink." I stand up and make my way toward up the stairs, toward the bedroom, feeling a warm haze of realization wash over me.
"Monica, wait."
"I'm tired, Boston. I don't want to talk anymore." Especially about stuff like this.
"Baby, I didn't mean to upset you."
"I'm not upset. I'm tired." Regardless of that, I feel irritation prickle inside of me. "I uhm," I bite back the choking sound in my throat, "I'm not feeling well." And I really am not.
I'd never known Boston had a heart condition. I thought his hesitancy was just because he was adventurous and then maybe one day. Maybe one day he'd want them with me. But we'd never had a real conversation about it. We never had a conversation about our future together, what either of us wanted. Then we went and got married.
I got married to someone who has the potential of dying. Someone who could pass said condition to our child. That's why he doesn't want to have kids. Nausea rolls through the pit of my stomach as my anxiety and the alcohol work in time with one another.
I reach the top stair and waver, sweat dripping from my brow. Boston calls my name from behind as I launch myself toward the bathroom. Once I'm inside, I throw open the toilet lid and expel everything inside of me.
My thoughts, hopes, and dreams for a future I had once seen myself having, the current bundle of anxiety knotted in the pit of my stomach— all of it. Everything expelled violently from me then swallowed down the toilet in one swift flush.
A/N:
How are we all feeling about what happened in this chapter?
Any ideas about what's going on through Monica's head?