“Come on, Tammy, don’t be like that.”
Patrick gags behind me and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. If there was a nickname I hated, it was Tammy. He either knew and didn’t care or was oblivious. Like he was about everything else in our relationship.
“Heard about the baby, wanted to come see.”
My head tilts to the side and he smiles again. It’s not a nice smile and a part of me wonders if I was so in love with him I was totally oblivious to his physical appearance. Kabir was never unattractive, but it wasn’t the important part of our relationship. Even if I don’t compare him to Patrick, there’s something missing.
“Why?”
“Were you not going to tell me?”
“Why would I tell you?”
His forehead is wrinkled in confusion, gesturing at my stomach and then himself. “It’s mine, right?”
This time, Patrick isn’t subtle. He barks out a laugh and his sarcastic howl fills the apartment. The baby kicks at the sound of their father and my lips press together to stop from joining him, especially when I see the irritation on Kabir’s face.
“Seriously, who is this, Tammy?”
“None of your business, buddy. Now say your piece and get the fuck out,” Patrick says, all amusement gone from his voice. When his hand lands on my hip, I have to resist the urge to lean into him. “Want something to drink, Lo?”
“Morum vellam?1?” He started making it a few weeks ago when he realised I was chugging cartons of juice instead of water to battle the heat. The spiced buttermilk is healthier and tastier too.
He kisses the side of my head, which makes Kabir frown harder, and walks to the kitchen, leaving us alone. Well, alone isn’t really possible in the open plan apartment, but he’s far enough away to make Kabir relax. My eyes take in Patrick’s ass in those sweatpants and up to the way his back muscles flex under his T-shirt. My body hums and pussy throbs in memory of this past weekend, and we want more. Good god, rein it in.
Shaking off the horniness, I turn to Kabir. “How did you find out I’m pregnant?”
“Kenny sent me a link to an article,” Kabir replies as I try and fail to understand what article he’s talking about. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not yours.”
He frowns at my firm tone. “How can you be so sure?”
This man is fucking impossible. “Do you remember the last time we had sex? I do. It was three years ago.”
“That’s not possible. We had break-up sex.”
“You tried to have break-up sex. I kicked you out.”
“You’re telling me in the few months since we were over, you hooked up with someone else?”
I can’t help but laugh at the audacity of this man. I glance at Patrick, who’s watching us with the deepest frown known to mankind. All it’d take is one nod and he’d throw Kabir out the window. But god, the man is so beautiful.
“At least I waited until we were done to sleep with someone else,” I reply calmly.
He scoffs and takes a step forward, his voice dipping into a menacing tone. “This is because I wasn’t here for you after the miscarriage, right?”
A low growl echoes through the apartment and I hate that this is how Patrick finds out. I force myself to breathe normally as memories of the day in the hospital come back in flashes. Kabir showed up hours after the D&C and berated me. What he failed to understand in the eight years of our relationship was I always needed him. He chose when to show up.
I sigh heavily and rub my forehead, hoping I sound steady when I say, “This has nothing to do with you and the fact that you think it does is exactly why we’re not together anymore.”
“We were together for eight years, Tammy. That’s a long fucking time to be with someone and move on so easily.”
It surprises me how genuinely confused he is when all along, he was the one dipping his dick in Vinitha. There might have been more women and I didn’t even know.
“Until the very same partner decides he wants to fuck other people and when he gets caught, complains about the most cliché thing by blaming you for working too much.”
“I…it’s true! You were ignoring me.” He sounds whiney and I roll my eyes as he drags a hand through his well-coiffed hair.