Page 111 of Skating the Blue Line
A grunt.
Grunts I mostly how Liam has been communicating these last two weeks.
I’m tired of them. So damn tired. I’ve been avoiding talking about this but I can’t ignore it much longer.
“Liam?” I say, trying to get his attention but he’s starting a little bit too hard at the crib in front of him.
“Liam.” I say with a little more strength behind it and finally he looks up at me. Annoyance all over his face.
I hate seeing him like this. I hate that he’slookingat me like this.
That look on his face is very much about me moving out. I know it is, and as much as I want to give in and give him what he wants, I can’t. I have to stand behind this. I have to move out. Even if I turn out to be wrong. And If I am, I will be the first to admit it and kick myself in the ass for doing this to him. For denying what he said he was feeling toward me and for denying his feelings at all.
But I have to get there. If I ever do.
My shoulders slump a little bit and say the only words that I can possibly think of. “I’m really sorry.”
Liam’s expression shifts from being annoyed and irritated to confusion and then finally to caring and worried.
He doesn’t need me to explain what I’m apologizing for.
With a shake of his head, he abandons the crib and comes over and sits next to me. One of his heavily tattooed arms makes it around my shoulders and I can’t help but to lean into his touch.
He hasn’t held me since the night he stormed out and I miss it.
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he says, letting out a sigh.
“I’m moving out and you hate it.” I say, letting my head fall to his chest.
“I don’t hate it.” He tells me and I can’t help but let out a snort hearing his lie. “Okay, fine. I hate it but I’ll get over it.”
I’ve learned enough about him these last few months that I know he won’t.
“I’ve been taking my anger about this out on you, haven’t I?” He asks, already knowing the answer to the question.
“You have. I think this is the most you’ve talked to me in two weeks. You’ve been giving me clipped answers and a lot of grunts.” I whisper, nodding my head against this chest.
“I’m really sorry, Chloe.” He whispers back, tightening his arm around me.
“I know you are.” I say, feeling a prickling in my eyes.
I won’t cry. I will not cry.
“We can’t keep living like this,” he says and I’m about to suggest I move out now before things get worse, when he speaks again. “We need to come up with something that won’t have us mad at each other when our little surprise arrives.”
He’s right.
Me moving out now will just continue the issue. We have to shelf whatever this thing with us is and make sure that this baby comes into this world knowing that her parents can at least get along.
“Let’s just put it on the back burner for now. We won’t talk about me moving out and I won’t continue to pack mine or the baby’s stuff. It won’t even be a thought. We’ll wait for her to come, and in the meantime, the only things that we will concentrate on is this nursery and you playing the best hockey games of your life to get that cup and bring it home.”
“The girl that told me when I first met her that she didn’t know much about hockey, is calling the Stanley Cup just The Cup.”
I stab a finger into his side. “I blame you. I was perfectly fine with only knowing that hockey is played with a puck. Now my brain is filled with hockey lingo, statistics and way more things that I didn’t think I needed to know.”
“Now you do.”
“Now I do.”
