Blakely: Ummm, don’t hate me “Dragon Breath,” but it seems as though he’s actually doing all of the right things.
Penny: EXACTLY. He is.
Blakely: Okay, so, once again, “Mistress of the Dark,” don’t slaughter me, but I fail to realize how there is a problem.
Penny: Uh, isn’t it obvious?
Blakely: No. No, it’s not.
Penny: He’s being too perfect!
Blakely: Ah yes, what an absolute fucker. How could he *possibly* be so awful to you? Damn him all to hell.
Penny: Are you patronizing me?
Blakely: Can I ask you a question?
Penny: Might as well.
Blakely: You’re seven months pregnant, right?
Penny: If you say this has to do with my pregnancy, I’m going to slice you with a rusty knife.
Blakely: You’re seven months pregnant, which means you’re entering the third trimester, and your patience is going to continue to shrink until nothing is left.
Penny: My patience level is fine. I’m just asking him to stop being so goddamn nice. He doesn’t even like me, Blakely. I said that in a hissing tone. If he loved me, then sure, dote on me all you want, but he’s making me believe he’s this nice guy, and then what happens when I have the baby? Huh?
Blakely: He’s a nice guy. We established that. And I do think he likes you. He just doesn’t know how to say it, so he’s showing you instead.
Penny: You realize how completely useless you are at the moment?
Blakely: Wow . . . welcome to the third trimester. I hope Eli is mentally prepared.
Penny: Ugh . . . I’m sorry, okay. I just . . . I can’t stop thinking about how he’s doing all of these nice things, but why? Why bother?
Blakely: Because, sweetie, like I said, he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to say it, just show it.
Penny: It’s slowly eating away at me. I can feel it. The angst of it all. I don’t want him to do nice things for me. I want him to love me.
Blakely: It takes some people longer.
Penny: Or maybe, Blakely, he just doesn’t like me like that, and all of this has just been a way to stay closer to the baby. And get laid very, very often.
Blakely: Do you really think he’d do that?
Penny: I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that with every day that goes by, I’m growing more and more irritated, more angry . . . and more sad.
Blakely: Penny, please don’t be sad. Give him time.
Penny: Hard not to be sad when all I feel like is an incubator. Someone he can have sex with. And of course, the means to an end.
Blakely: Do you need to meet up? Should we go somewhere to talk? You don’t sound great.
Penny: I’m fine. I’m going to take a bath. I’ll talk to you later.
Blakely: Penny, don’t shut down. Please just talk to me . . .
“You look hot,” Eli says as he comes up to me in the kitchen and places a kiss on my shoulder.
“I’m wearing a five-year-old sports bra and underwear. Explain to me how this is hot?”
He pauses mid-kiss to my neck and pulls away. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” I snap at him as I shove a brownie in my mouth and walk to the living room.
“I’m smart enough to know when a woman says fine, she doesn’t mean it.” He joins me in the living room and sits across from me on the coffee table.
Mouth full of brownie, I grip my large stomach and say, “This looks hot to you?”
“Babe, you’re easily the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Oh, yeah, sure . . . okay.” I roll my eyes and reach for the remote, but he stops me.
“There seems to be a problem, and I’m not positive what it is. Mind if you help me?”
“Help you what? Understand a woman? Why do I need to be your educator? Read a book.”
Now he rears back slightly, blinking. “Hey, Penny, what the hell is going on? Did I do something wrong?”
“Oh, you finally realize you did something wrong? Wow, Eli, it only took you seven freaking months.”
“Wait . . . what are you talking about?”
Chalk it up to the hormones, possibly my defense mechanism to how destroyed I feel inside, but I can’t seem to control my emotions.
I love him.
But I hate him.
I hate him so much for putting me through this. For being so caring, attentive, and appreciative, but that’s it. There’s nothing else, and that is what’s making me sad.
That is what’s making me cry whenever he leaves.
That is what’s fueling the fire to the raging flames burning through me.