Page 33 of Zac

Shifts weren’t good for Presley. I’ve picked up quickly on her inability to talk things out. She is defensive, and emotional, and I’m not sure if that is all pregnancy related or if it’s just who she is.

I want to know everything about her, but treading lightly is the key.

“When you were younger, before adult life kicked in, what did you want to be?” She is silent for a little too long and I’m starting to think she fell asleep when she finally speaks.

“Before I realized dreams were a waste of time I wanted to be a ballerina.” I smile picturing her dancing around in a pink tutu. The way she mentions how dreams are a waste hits deep. I remember feeling the same things before life crushed my hopes.

“Then as I got older I wanted to be a makeup artist, a hairdresser, a chef, you get the idea,” she adds with a laugh. “Then all I truly wanted to be was the owner of the company my father worked for. So I could belittle him daily until he felt like he was worth nothing, then fire him.” She shrugs like it is no big deal and my chest aches for her.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that I’m guessing your father was a real ass.”

“Judgmental, cruel, an adulterer, a liar, a narcissistic prick.” She says this all so casually. “But one thing he never was, was a father.”

I may have lost my dad young, but when I did have him in my life he was the most amazing man I ever knew. Even to this day he is my hero.

“But in reality he was right, because I didn’t amount to much and I didn’t even finish school.”

“What were you going to school for?”

“I was taking a business course when I found out I was pregnant.” We continue to lay in my bedroom in the darkened space, still staring up at the sky above and I let her go on and on, loving to hear her talk about a dream. Even if that dream was one she no longer thought could come true, I was in awe of the vision she had and the joy in her voice as she shared it. She wasn’t this way often, so open and willing to share.

“Grant wasn’t any help with the bills, he lost his job and I had to take extra shifts at the cafe.” Again I feel like I’m kicked in the nuts because the situation is different now, I am here to help but she convinced herself she needs to work more. It’s like history is repeating itself in her mind. “I had dreamed of opening up my own bakery with specialty coffees and drinks. I had these plans drawn out of what I wanted it all to look like inside, the decor, the tables made out of reclaimed wood. I even had a logo made that I wanted stamped into the chairs, on every sleeve for every drink. I had this book with all my plans and ideas but somewhere along the way it disappeared. To be honest I think Grant threw it away, he always thought the idea was ridiculous. Eventually I had to make a choice. Take care of my child or pursue my dream.”

“Why not both?” The question is instinctual. To me no one should have to decide to let their dreams go.

“Because being a single mom is hard enough with a full-time job. Doing that plus taking classes was too much. I barely made it most days.”

“Well, I think maybe it’s time to revisit those dreams.” I refuse to be part of a reason she feels like she can’t.

“Zac I can’t?—”

“You can,” I tell her even when she attempts to argue. I roll over and cover her body with my own and press my lips to hers. I was going to help her, whether she wanted me to or not.

ChapterTwenty-Four

Presley

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” Lauren comes rushing into the apartment, looking as disheveled and stressed as I feel. “Class ran over, I dropped my coffee in my car, looks like I pissed myself.” Her entire front is soaked with brown liquid. “My car wouldn’t start, some asshole parked so close I had to climb in through the passenger side. My pants got stuck on the gearshift and now I have a huge hole in the ass of my pants.”

She throws her hands up in the air and lets out a puff of air making her hair blow upward.

“I know I’ve made you late, and I’m sorry. But it has been a day from hell.”

I want to laugh, I do, but honestly I feel her pain. My morning started out with Grayson waking up at five a.m. refusing to go back to sleep. He insisted on using the bathroom by himself, which would have been great. Only I found him a couple minutes later peeing on the wall, because he was still half asleep. Instead of holding himself, he was rubbing his eyes and well, it was like a wild air hose on full blast.

I spent the next hour cleaning every inch of the bathroom and then I had to shower because I swear I smelled like pee.

The water was lukewarm at best and I stubbed my toe getting out of the shower. I think it’s broken.

My milk was expired, the box of cereal barely had enough to fill Gray’s bowl. We settled on toaster strudels instead.

I burned my forehead with the curling iron. I stabbed myself in the eye while trying to put on mascara when Gray came running into the bathroom. He slid into my leg, his head hit my elbow and bam, I’m half blind.

“Is it the thirteenth?” I force a smile, because I am definitely not feeling cheery.

“Maybe we should go back to bed, and try again tomorrow?” Lauren looks exhausted.

“I called in.” Which is something I never do.

---