Page 54 of Blackout

“I’m taking the pregnancy wasn’t planned.”

“Oh, it was planned. I don’t think either of us expected it to happen so quickly but nonetheless, it was planned.” Before she can ask me why I’m so upset, I draw in a deep breath and begin to ramble all the details, explaining what happened at the doctor. More tears fall as I reveal Blackie’s concerns and when I’ve finally laid all the truth bare, I release a heavy breath.

“I don’t want to take the Lithium, Dr. Spiegel,” I tell her, gritting my teeth as I furiously wipe the tears from my cheeks. “A baby is supposed to be safe inside their mother. Once he or she is born, I won’t be able to protect him or her from the world but while I’m carrying it, I can.”

It’s hard to admit that, and it feels as if I’m already failing as a parent.

“Lacey, why don’t you come into my office and we can discuss your options. I have time between—”

“I can’t come in,” I say, cutting her off as I rise to my feet. My eyes dart towards the door and I silently will it to open and for Blackie to come striding through. “I have to stay here in case Blackie comes home. His phone isn’t receiving my messages, and we left things badly.”

Giving up, I tear my eyes away from the door and run my fingers through my hair.

“I need you to tell me I’m making the right decision.”

“I can’t tell you that,” she says in that soft monotone voice she uses to talk patients off the ledge. “Anything can happen,” she adds, pausing to sigh. “But I will say this, you’ve been in a good place. We’ve been able to control your mood swings and have kept the depression to a minimum. If you’re set on not taking your meds, we can ween you off and then when you hit the second trimester of your pregnancy, we can revisit the situation. Depending on your mental state, we will either discontinue until you give birth or lower your dosage. I’m not going to suggest you try a different medication because we’re not sure how you will react and that, in my opinion, is too risky.”

I wait for the relief to settle, but it doesn’t come. Nothing she says makes me feel better and I think that’s because Blackie isn’t here. He’s not holding my hand like he always does. He’s not asking the questions, I haven’t thought to ask or giving Dr. Spiegel any imperative information I may have purposely forgotten to mention. He doesn’t tell her I threw my pills out or that just over a week ago I lost my job—two things that she should probably know. Two things he would tell her if he was by my side like he always swore to be but the person I have to blame for his absence is myself.

“I’ll want to see you two to three times a week,” she continues. “That’s effective immediately, Lacey. No calling to cancel because Blackie’s phone isn’t working,” she chastises, pausing for a beat. “Does your father know?”

“No,” I reply. “We wanted to wait until the doctor confirmed the pregnancy and then everything just kind of imploded.”

“Okay,” she says. “I want you to call the office and schedule an appointment first thing Monday morning.”

After agreeing, I end the call and blow out a breath and make my way towards the window. Mindlessly, I stare through the slatted blinds.

“Where are you?” I whisper.

Wishing I could shake the dread churning in my gut, I move away from the window and pick up the phone one more time. With no other option, I call the one person who has covered Blackie’s ass when he’s busy covering everyone else’s.

“Casa del Tiger,” Riggs answers.

“Riggs, it’s Lacey...”

My words trail off as he mutters a curse, making it obvious he’s not happy to hear from me. I don’t blame him.

“What are you two trying to hide from Jack this time?”

“It’s nothing like that,” I tell him. “Blackie and I had a fight and I threw him out. He’s been gone all night and I can’t get a hold of him. Riggs, I’m worried. I’m really fucking worried.”

“Shit,” he hisses.

“I don’t want to leave in case he comes home,” I continue. Honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for him. If this was ten years ago, my first stop would be the clubhouse, but the times have changed, and I can’t fathom Blackie spending the night in Pipe’s garage.

“I’ll go look for him.”

“Riggs…” I pause. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I contemplate telling him that he relapsed a few weeks ago. “He’s…well, I’m not…’ Before I can tell him to check the local bars, Riggs sighs.

“I think I have an idea where he might be,” he mutters. “Hang tight, alright?”

“Thank you,” I murmur. “Oh, and Riggs, let’s not tell my father about this okay?”

“Ah fuck this, I knew that was coming. Yeah, yeah, more secrets,” he says before disconnecting the call.

Throwing my phone on the coffee table, I lay down on the couch and drag my knees to my chest. My hand wanders to my stomach as my eyes find our framed wedding photo.

“God, please take care of him.”

Please bring him home to me.

To us.

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