“Yeah? What’s that?” I say irritated that I’m still there watching her cry.
“I’m pregnant.” She whispers closing her eyes, unable to look me in the eye.
It’s the strangest thing because for a split second I’m elated and it’s like I’ve waited my entire life to hear those words come from her mouth, but then I realize she’s not having my baby and that realization hits me harder than anything ever before it breaks whatever’s left of my heart.
“I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.” She whispers sadly wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands. “It wasn’t planned.” She says like she’s trying to ease the blow of her carrying another man’s child.
I’ve really lost her.
“Please say something.” She begs as she stares at me.
“What the fuck do you want me to say? Congratulations, but you really didn’t have to drive all the way here to tell me you’re knocked up.” I pushed my chair back for real and stood up. I stared down at her at one point of my life I had probably wondered what A would look like pregnant may have even looked forward to it, but looking at her now had exceeded anything I could’ve ever dreamed. My eyes drifted down to her flat stomach and pictured what she’d look like in a few months she was going to be a great mother. I opened my mouth probably to tell her just that but I quickly closed it giving her one final look taking her in one last time before I walked away from her again. The difference this time was that it was the last time I’d walk away because I’d never walk back in to get close enough to leave her again.
“Anthony…” She pleaded as I walked past her headed straight for the metal doors. The C.O. buzzes me into the hallway and I hear the metal doors slide close behind us as we walk the long hallway back towards my cell.
Adrianna’s pregnant. How was I ever going to wrap my head around that?
I step into my cell just as the officer locks me up I turn to him.
“You want to make money? Bet on me.” I say almost feeling sorry for my opponent as I grab the tape and prepare to tape my knuckles. The need to punch something consumes me so does the need to crush someone so he can feel how I do. I know that when I put my gloves on I’m going to be fighting for all the things I let slip through my fingers. My opponent doesn’t stand a chance he’s going to suffer the wrath of me losing the love of my life for good.
Poor Bastard.