Page 52 of The Ranger
Would I have chosen Scarlett?
The answer is, I didn’t.
We saw each other a few times after the first night.She’s part of the same social group.Granted, she never showed up at our BHS Friday night drinks as often as the other girls, but I figure it’s because she was pregnant.
In those very early days, we shared glances, she’d sass me as if the night meant nothing to her, and I wondered if I’d have to walk on fire to get her to say yes to going on a date with me.
Scarlett didn’t seem like the relationship type.Instead, she was prickly and argumentative.You know, the type you wanted to fuck into compliance, not take on a candlelit dinner.
Well, we skipped all that and went straight to becoming parents.
Rightly or wrongly, here we are.
I’m fucking terrified and excited.
I’ve lain awake many nights imagining the moment I get to hold the baby in my arms.Wondering if it will seem like a stranger to me, or if I’ll fall in love at first sight.
I’m worried Scarlett could be a terrible mom, then watch her obsess about where the little flamingo baby mobile will hang so it doesn’t scare the baby.Don’t ask me how many times I had to move it to the left, then the right, then back to the fucking left before screwing it into the roof.
Twelve.
I counted.
She is going to be incredible.No one is going to get past her to hurt our child.Me included.
Except I’ve already failed.
Every child deserves both its parents, and I’ve fucked around worrying about car seats, strollers and flamingo baby mobiles, instead of trying to have a relationship with its mom.
“Fuck,” I chuck the towel into the hamper and walk to the closet.“Fucking idiot.”
I should not have touched her.
Pulling on a shirt and a fresh pair of navy-blue pants, I walk into the bedroom and slide on my wristwatch.Then go out to the kitchen, where my coffee maker has done its thing.
I pour a cup and add cream.
“Fuck,” I curse again, then pull out my phone and find her number.
Dial.
“Hey,” Scarlett answers.
“So.”I run my hand through my hair.
“Don’t bother.Let me do it for you.Big mistake, it never happened, let’s not talk about it again.Carry on.”
“You sound pissed.”My eyes dart around my home and take in the gray sofa and new artwork I recently purchased.
Private security pays way more than the US government.
“On the contrary, I’m feeling sated and content.Thank you for your service.”
I shake my head and lift my coffee to my lips, but there’s also a hint of pride.My girl was pleasured.
My girl?
“Welcome,” I mutter.“So, we’re good?”
