Page 99 of Mr. Edwards
“When do you think I’ll be able to get rid of this thing?” I ask, sliding my foot into it and securing the Velcro straps around my calf.I’m over it.
I’m only wearing it during the day now, and I’m thankful to be free of this fucker when I sleep, but I want it gone completely.
The doctor removed the last of the pins from my leg before I left the hospital, but I still have limited movement in my ankle. I’ve had three operations thus far, and until my leg completely heals, and I’m given the all clear, I can’t even drive.
The crumpled wreck they cut me out of at the scene flashes through my mind, but I push the image straight back out. I can’t go there right now. Even though I was pretty out of it at the time, I remember looking over at my once-prized sports car as I was being loaded onto a stretcher. She was a fucking mess, just like I was, barely recognizable. It was no surprise to hear the insurance company wrote her off, she was towed back to one of their lots where she still sits, but I haven’t been to see her…I don’t want to.
I loved that damn car.
“If you keep improving like this, I’d say a few more weeks tops,” Christy replies.
That may not seem like a long time, but I’ve already lost the last two months of my life. I need to get back towork… I need to get out of this damn house, I’m craving normality. Being cooped up in the hospital, and now here, is sending me around the goddamn bend. I have too much time to think and wallow in self-pity.
Too much time to miss Carlee.
Three days have passed since she came here… since Ashton informed me of what’s really going on. Did Carlee come to gloat? Did she think I’d want to know she’s moved on? She didn’t want kids with me, so I can’t even put into words how it feels to know she’s shacked up with some other guy, playing happy families, and giving him the life I wanted for us.
When the doorbell rings, I throw my head back and groan. “You want me to get that on my way out?” Christy asks as she lifts her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.
“Tell whoever it is to fuck off.”
Christy’s eyes widen in shock. She might think I’m joking, but I’m not. I only let her in because I need her to fix my damn leg so I can get a semblance of my life back.
I stay seated as she opens the door. “Hi,” she says to whoever is standing on the other side.
“Hi, is Grayson in?” It sounds like Emma, and it’s confirmed when a flash zooms around Christy’s legs, and I see a tiny little human run across the main room in my direction. As shitty as I’m feeling, I can’t help but smile when I see her sweet face. “Charlie,” Emma calls out, but the toddler is already out of her reach.
“Gway-Gway,” she squeals, launching herself into my awaiting arms.
“Charlie-bear.” I wrap her up tight, blowing a raspberry on her neck and making her giggle as she squirms her tiny body around. “I’ve missed you, baby girl.”
She draws back her upper body, and although she’s a carbon copy of her mother, she has her dad’s blue eyes.
She places her small, chubby hands on each side of my face, giving me a serious expression. “I miss you, Gway-Gway.” Fuck, I love this little girl. Her large eyes grow bigger and a smile bursts onto her face. “Momma made us tookies.” I chuckle because this kid is too cute.
I envy everything my best friend now has. The love of his life by his side, and this cute little bundle in my arms. This is what I once saw for my future, not his. It’s funny how life works out sometimes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Grayson,” Christy says as she moves aside to let Emma in. I’m not in the mood for company, but I guess I’m left without a choice.
Emma gives me a tentative smile as she comes toward me. She has what looks like a photo album in her hand and a plate of cookies balancing on top. Ashton probably told her about our conversation the other day.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Em.”
“Tan I have a tookie now, Momma?” Charlie asks with a pouty lip and hopeful eyes.
“Just one,” Emma replies, placing the plate down on the coffee table and moving to sit beside me. I maneuver Charlie until she’s back on her feet, and Emma reaches out, resting her hand on my leg. “How are you, Gray?” Dropping my gaze down to my lap, I shrug. “Ashton said you were upset when he came over.”
“Do you blame me? I can’t believe she’s having another man’s baby.”
“What?” Emma screeches.
“He told me Carlee’s pregnant, and about the guy she’s shacked up with.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. I still can’t believe it.
“Ashton told you what? My husband’s such a dicksometimes,” she says, shaking her head. “She’s not pregnant, and there is no other guy.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, sitting up straighter in my chair.
