The Fighter Pilot’s Baby

“Alex,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek. She felt bad waking him but she also knew he had job hunting to do.

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, turning his head.

“You fell asleep at the table,” Bianca said, running her hand through his sandy hair.

“I’m sorry,” he answered, sitting upright.

Bianca shook her head, “It’s okay I just didn’t want you to get a stiff neck.”

“Right,” Alex said rubbing his neck. “I think it already started.”

Bianca smiled at the way he was playing up his stiff neck. “Would you like me to rub it for you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Alex smirked, leaning into her touch.

After a few minutes, Alex moved his neck from side to side and gave her a thumbs up. With a chuckle, probably one of the first in a week, Bianca stepped back to retrieve her now ice cold coffee.

“I guess I’m going to be late for work my first day back,” Bianca shrugged as she heated up her coffee in the microwave.

“I called them and told them you needed one more day. I hope that’s okay?” Alex replied moving behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

Bianca tried not to stiffen. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to touch her, but she felt like she didn’t deserve his comfort or affection after she failed to keep his unborn child safe.

“Bianca, let me help you. Let me take care of you. You’ve spent the last week moping around the house, not eating, barely sleeping and not talking to me. We need to talk about this if we are going to get past it,” Alex said turning her to face him. “Unless you don’t want to get past it,” he added.

Bianca shook her head. “It’s not that, Alex,” she said, opening her mouth to speak again only to snap it closed again. Now was not the time to tell him she loved him.

“Please, Bianca. Talk to me,” Alex begged, gripping her waist.

Tears began to well in Bianca’s eyes. She couldn’t talk to him. It hurt too much. Didn’t he see that? And it was all her fault.

Swallowing the giant lump in her throat, Bianca spoke, “I want to talk to you. But I can’t speak the words without reliving that awful day.” She choked back the sob that tried to escape. “Why aren’t you angry with me?” She added, a few rogue tears escaping her eyes.

Bianca wiped the tears away angrily and snatched her cup of coffee from the microwave, sloshing some over the side.

Damnit!

Tears of frustration finally falling, Bianca grabbed the dishtowel and sopped up her mess. From her periphery she could see Alex watching her, his jaw twitching with tension. He was gripping the side of the table until his knuckles turned white and Bianca thought he must be holding himself back from coming to her. But why? That was what she needed from him, unconditional comfort. She would talk about what happened when the time was right but just knowing he was there for her through this awful time would help her heal. Bianca feared he wouldn’t want to wait for her to heal though and the thought made her stomach clench with fear.

*****

Alex watched as Bianca cleaned up the spilled coffee. His first instinct was to take the towel from her and do it himself. His second was to make her stop cleaning it up and gather her into his arms and not let go. Instead, he held onto the table and let her cry and mop up spilled coffee like an asshole. What was he waiting for? Damned if he knew. Releasing his grip from the table, Alex ran a hand through his hair again with aggravation. How did something that was going so well turn to such sh*t in a matter of months? Giving up the fight to leave her alone, Alex pushed off from the table and walked across the room. At this point Bianca was done with the coffee spill and was leaning over the counter silently sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her waist again and ignored her stiffening posture.

“Bianca,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her neck.

“Please don’t, Alex. I don’t deserve it,” she sobbed, trying to pull away.

“Yes you do, baby. Let me help you heal,” Alex said, continuing to press light kisses to her neck and cheek.

“Alex, please.” And he wasn’t sure if she was asking him to stop or to continue.

She tangled her fingers in his hair.