P.S. You’re Intolerable: Chapter 5

THERE WAS A MAN behind my desk doing something to my chair.

I hated that chair with its bar running up the middle; I was fairly certain it would impale me if I shifted the wrong way. But still, it was mine.

My steps picked up speed, intent on defending my chair. But as I drew closer, the butter-like leather and plush cushions came into focus. It wasn’t my chair at all.

My exhaustion from a night of interrupted sleep—Baby Girl also thought my sleep time was her party time—muddled my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize this was a delivery guy, not some random man off the street.

“Hi,” I called as I approached my desk.

He looked up from the plastic wrap he must have just removed from the chair. “Good morning, ma’am. Is this your desk?”

“It is.” I stopped on the side opposite him. “Did I get a new chair?”

“Looks like it.” He gave it a pat. “The whole floor got new chairs this morning. Top of the line. Come test it out.”

He seemed harmless. Almost grandfatherly. That didn’t mean he was, but I took my chances. The chair really did look nice, and my feet already hurt. Or maybe they hadn’t stopped.

Circling my desk, I placed my bag on top and took a seat.

Luxury.

Like sitting on a pile of clouds.

No danger of being impaled, and the leather didn’t squeak when I moved. Instead, it cupped my ass like the hands of angels.

I sighed, my eyes fluttering closed.

The man chuckled. “Good, huh?”

“So good,” I cooed. “I’m going to marry this chair. Do you think they’ll let me bring it to the hospital? It would be a good birthing chair.”

He laughed a little harder. “I don’t know about that, ma’am, but I’m glad you like it. Enjoy.”

Once he was gone, I swiveled in circles for a minute or two then headed to the break room. Davida and Raymond were in the midst of their morning gossip.

“Darling.” Davida reached out like she was going to hug me, but her hands went straight to my belly. Since I’d popped two weeks ago, I’d kept on popping…and popping…and popping. “Look at you. I’ve never once had the urge to put myself through this, but you look so adorable.”

Raymond nodded with her, tapping a finger on his chin. “Like an adorable little beach ball.” He lightly patted the top of my belly one time before ripping his hand away. “That’s…harder than I expected.”

Davida nudged his side with her elbow. “Did you think she’d be squishy? There’s a human being in there.”

Raymond shuddered.

“Can we stop talking about me like I’m nothing more than an incubator?” I waved. “Hello, entire person before I started growing a person.”

“Sorry, darling.” Davida squeezed my shoulder. “We’re just so excited to be daddies.”

I rolled my eyes. Since Liam had gone back to Australia for an indefinite period of time, which I was really hoping would end soon, Davida and Raymond had declared themselves Baby Girl’s new dads.

She could have done worse…but she could have done a lot better. I wasn’t sure I’d trust either of them to help keep a fish alive, let alone a baby.

Not that I had any experience in either, but I was banking on instinct kicking in.

Raymond waved me off. “I guess we should be thanking you for the chairs. Mine is more luxurious than my butt knows what to do with.”

Davida continued dunking her tea bag in hot water. “I’m surprised Elliot sprung for top of the line.”

“Why would you thank me?” I asked.

Raymond exhaled heavily like he was tired of explaining everything to me. “Because everyone on this floor has seen you struggle busing your pretty butt out of your chair every time you stand and rubbing your spine like you just got off the rack.”

My hands went to my hips, which only pushed my belly out further, greatly impacting my attempt to give attitude. “Granted, I’m not as graceful as I once was, but I don’t struggle to get out of my seat, Raymond.”

“Sure, Kit, but don’t deny you’ve been in pain,” he argued.

I let my hands drop, attitude gone. “Yeah, but it was because of the chair, not my slightly misshapen body.”

Davida’s spoon tinked on the inside of her mug as she stirred her tea. “Which Elliot noticed. Obviously.”

I spun to her. “Why obviously?”

She brought her mug to her lips. “We’ve needed to upgrade our chairs for ages. The previous ones were aesthetically pleasing, but as you know, they were torture devices. I’m a hundred-percent sure the comfort of the assistants on the executive floor had never been a concern of Elliot’s…until you.”

I didn’t believe Elliot replaced all the assistants’ chairs just so I could have a new one. It didn’t make any sense.

If he had…that would have been an incredibly kind gesture.

When I sat down at my desk to write his schedule, my postscript was a little different.

P.S. You’re slightly more tolerable than usual.

I sliced it off the bottom and tucked it away with the others. Elliot arrived moments later, barely acknowledging me, as usual.

I followed him into his office, slipping the schedule on his desk. Elliot powered on his computer, moving his mouse around.

Absently, I pinched the fabric of my dress, pulling it away from my stomach. It was tighter than it had been a week ago, which was frustrating.

Click, click.

Dear god, how could he be annoyed with me already? I hadn’t said anything other than good morning.

“Thank you for the new chair. It’s wonderful.”

His glance slid over me, from my lap to my face. “What makes you think I gave you a new chair?”

“Well, this is your company, so I assumed…”

One of his brows rose. He had this talent of looking dubious with only the flick of his forehead muscles. He often cast this expression on those he did business with, but I’d been privy to it from time to time as well.

“I don’t know why you would assume I have anything to do with ordering chairs.”

Crimson suffused his cheeks, and I wondered just how pissed off he was that I’d implied he would actually do something nice for me…and the rest of the assistants on this floor.

I tapped the end of my pen on my notebook, really wanting to tap his forehead and tell him he could have just accepted the thanks without getting mad.

Then, sucking in a breath, I adjusted my dress and put my game face on. “Anyway, the chair is nice. If you happen to know who chose them, please give them my appreciation.”

“I’m sure I have more important things to do than that.” He nodded toward the schedule in front of him. “As you’re aware.”

“Of course. Thankfulness is overrated anyway.” Oops, the sarcasm had escaped.

Elliot steepled his hands beneath his chin, observing me through slit eyes. “Do you have a problem with my manners, Catherine?”

“I don’t, Elliot.” I tugged down on my dress harder than necessary. “Now, do you have anything I should know about today?”

The meeting went on as usual after that. Until the end, when I asked him if there was anything else.

Elliot peered at me for a long moment. “You can’t come to work in that dress again. It no longer fits you, and you wore it three days last week.”

My mouth fell open.

He wasn’t wrong. I was all too aware I’d squeezed myself into one of the last pieces of clothing that still stretched over my belly, aside from Liam’s old T-shirts.

Living inside this body completely alien to me was bad enough. I was off balance, barely sleeping, hungry enough at all hours to gnaw my own arm off, my emotions out of control—and now this? I thought I’d done well by wearing all black. If I needed to repeat outfits, it wouldn’t be so obvious.

But Elliot had noticed, and it hurt my feelings. I hated that he was capable of hurting my feelings. Lately, they were just as swollen as the rest of me.

“I—” I had to swallow three times before I could force any words out. “Okay,” I managed to rasp.

His head jerked at the weak sound of my acquiescence. “Catherine—”

I waved my hand in front of me. If we continued this, there was a high likelihood I’d start crying. And if I cried in Elliot’s office, I’d never be able to face him again.

“No, it’s fine. I hear you. I’ll go out after work and find suitable clothing.”

My tender feelings lodged in my throat and after that horribly awkward moment, I returned to my desk, sat my ass down in my brand-new chair, opened my drawer, and snatched my postscript envelope. Taking out today’s, I crossed out what I had written and scrawled below it.

P.S. You are exactly as intolerable as usual.

Maternity clothing was stupidly expensive, and I had next to no budget.

Fortunately, I was able to find a few things at a thrift store near my house. Black and gray, since those were my staples these days.

Hopefully, I’d be up to snuff for Elliot. If he said anything else about my clothes, I’d likely jab him with my pen. A blue one, just to make it hurt worse.

I really didn’t like how it had felt when he’d told me I couldn’t wear my dress anymore. I kept replaying the way he’d looked at me when he’d said it. Like he’d been embarrassed for me that I couldn’t fit my body into proper clothing.

It wasn’t like he paid me a whole hell of a lot. Until I passed the six-month mark, I was a contract employee—not officially hired—which meant my salary was a fraction of what it would be.

That was still two weeks away. I’d been saving every penny I could, but with my expenses mounting daily, it hadn’t been easy.

I walked into the home I hadn’t wanted and kicked myself for the thousandth time for allowing Liam to talk me into buying it.

At the time, we’d been riding a high from building houses for impoverished communities in Costa Rica, and a project of our own had sounded like the right move. Liam had made it sound like the right move.

The plan had been to buy the house with mostly cash—mine—take out a short-term loan—in my name—remodel it ourselves, and flip it for a big profit.

I got pregnant the night we got the keys.

And nothing had been going in the right direction since.

The empty walls echoed when I closed the front door. I wasn’t supposed to be here. This should have been a short way station before embarking on our next adventure.

I felt like Donald Rockford—in debt up to my eyeballs, staring down the barrel of a gun, bracing for it to go off.

Suddenly, standing in my foyer, a heavy bag of used clothing clutched tight in my hand, swollen ankles, and a baby coming at the very worst time, it was all too much.

I had never felt so alone in my life—and I’d grown up with a lifetime of loneliness. This, though…this was different. It was bone-deep, panic-inducing, soul-rending loneliness. My fight fled me, flowing from my heart and exiting from the tips of my shaking fingers.

There was no giving up, but I wished I could have.

Tears welled and spilled over, and I let them since there was no one here to see.

Shuffling to the couch, I fell on it with no grace, wincing when the springs dug into my backside. My tears came harder then. I couldn’t even flop on my fucking couch without being reminded just how miserable my current situation was.

Liam had to come back. That was all there was to it. He needed to be here to give me terrible massages and let me cry on his shoulder. He’d be slow about it, but at least he’d make some progress on the house and I could fire the contractor I really couldn’t afford.

I called him, not giving any thought to what time it was in Australia. It didn’t matter. I needed him.

“Hey, babe,” he answered. “How are you?”

“Liam,” I quivered.

“Kit? Are you crying?” He sounded somewhat alarmed, but more than that, he sounded foggy with sleep. Given it was the middle of the day in Sydney, he should have been wide awake. He always did love taking naps.

“I need you to come back. I can’t—”

“Aw, Kit,” he drawled softly. “What’s wrong, babe? Did you have a rough day at work?”

“It’s always rough, Liam.” I scrubbed hard at my face, angry at myself for falling apart. It wasn’t an option for me. I had to keep swimming. “I don’t know about the contractor you hired. If anything, the house looks worse, and the loan is due in a few months. We have to get this place sold. I just—”

“Kit, babe. You can’t get worked up like this. It’s not good for the baby. You know that.”

I sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to calm down. “When are you coming back? I need you here.”

“You’ve never needed me, babe. You’re just having a rough go tonight. The Kit I met in Mexico walked around with a hammer on her belt, bossing all the big men around the construction sites. You’re a badass. You don’t need anyone.”

The Kit he’d met had been twenty-two and having fun playing construction worker in a beautiful country, feeling like I was saving the world.

I wasn’t that Kit anymore.

I was afraid, with more responsibilities than I’d ever wanted.

And he wasn’t answering my question.

“I just told you I need you. This baby, who you convinced me to keep, is going to need you.”

His sigh was heavy through the phone. “Kit—”

“Are you coming back?” I didn’t have the time to beat around the bush.

Another sigh, even heavier. “The thing is, I’m working for my dad now. I can’t really leave him in a lurch, and I’ve barely started making money. The flight back isn’t really in the budget.”

Deep down, I’d known this was coming, but hearing him say it—really say it—made the bottom drop out of my stomach. I was free-falling with no net. Liam had taken it with him to another continent.

“Just say it, Liam,” I uttered.

“Kit, fuck, I’m sorry.” There was rustling like he finally decided to get out of bed. “It’s just…I need to be here, helping my dad out. And I met someone—”

Of course he’d met someone. And I could practically guarantee he hadn’t told her he was about to be a dad.

“What about the baby?”

“I don’t know.” I could picture him dragging his hands through his sandy hair like he was tortured over this. When he was the one who’d made all the choices that had landed him a world away from me, our baby, this house, all the promises. “I’ll send you money when I can, babe. We’ll figure it out.”

I nodded, unseeing. “Sure you will.”

“Don’t be like that. You’re going to be an awesome mom. It’s not like you needed me anyway. I would have just—”

His self-flagellation was too much to listen to for even another second, so I tuned him out. He let me go not long after with another empty promise to send me money as soon as he had some to spare.

As I said goodbye, I was almost certain I wouldn’t hear from him again unless I contacted him.

And even then, I wasn’t sure he’d answer.

I was doing this alone.

But then, hadn’t that been how I’d always done everything?

Baby Girl pressed her feet against the top of my bump, and I smiled down at the movement through my tears. Poor girl got stuck with a mom who didn’t know what the hell she was doing.

I’d try, though. I’d never stop trying, no matter how hard it was.

“It’s you and me, love. Us against the world.”

We’d make it. There was no other choice.