Page 60 of Constantine: Britain's Story: Part 2
Then I shoot off another.
Britian
I need the best family court attorney you know. I don’t care what it costs.
Fuck, I have to think of something plausible. Why would I just show up at his house? Then I’m reminded of my pillow, my favorite pillow probably still lying on his bed. I wonder if Gina uses it.Hell.Then I send another text.
Britain
Hey, so sorry about that. Shouldn’t have come by unannounced. I just needed to pick up my pillow. Won’t happen again. Have a good day.
The entire thing is a lie, but I can’t let him see how much he affects me. He always will,fucking bastard. I clean up and wash my hands, then sit on the cool stone floor to let loose a few more tears. Once I feel sufficiently drained, I stand up and open the door.
“Don’t youeverdrive like that again.” Liam crowds into my personal space, gripping my upper arms firmly in his hands, stunning me speechless. “I could fucking kill you for driving like that.” It’s an empty threat, though, as he releases my arms, then pulls me in tight to his chest. He smells like his cologne and scotch. Lots of scotch. My body goes willingly into his arms, eventhough my mind is screaming in revolt. I let him embrace me, but I don’t return it.
“How’d you know I was here?”
“I stopped at The Grounds and asked if anyone had seen which way the Porsche went. They all pointed straight here.”Fucking small towns.
“Did you see my text?” I try to fortify my voice, “Sorry about that. Hope Gina wasn’t too put out that I had to vomit and run.” It’s hard to keep the emotion out of my voice. The joke sounds neither funny nor crude, just lifeless. A bit like me. I push out of the embrace. “I tried calling, but I promise that won’t happen again.” I turn to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.
“Stop running from me, Britain.”
I glare at him, then down to where his hand is holding my arm. “Stop doing shit that makes me want to run from you.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.”
“Please don’t. You don’t need to explain or excuse anything. You are free to do whatever you want with whoever you want.” He drops my arm and I start walking towards the front door. I stop and turn before I get there because there is one thing I can’t leave unsaid. “I really don’t care what the fuck you do, Liam, but don’t lie to me. If I can’t trust you to be honest, I can’t trust you with our child.” He takes two steps to slide in front of the door, effectively blocking my exit.
“Is that a threat, Britain?”
“Yeah it is. I know you’ve never seen the mom version of Britain, but I try really hard to not let my kids be in shitty situations with shitty people. Do whatever you want, but if you want to be a shitty person about it, don’t expect me to willingly send my kid to you every other weekend.”
“Ouch, every other weekend.” He feigns a pain in his chest.
“Right now, you’re at supervised visits once a month, at best.” His face hardens and transforms.
“This does not have to be like this, Britain.” He looks down on me with disdain for the first time…ever.
“No it sure as fuck didn’t. Please move so I can leave.” I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so insanely reactive.I hate him, I love him, ugh. Why can’t I just be indifferent to him?
“No, not until you talk to me. Not until you let me explain.”
“Ahh yes, the epidemic, right?” He looks at me, confused. “Yes, the one where naked women’s mouths just fall on your dick. Tragic stuff happening nowadays.” I sneer at him and roll my eyes.
“One, she wasn’t fully naked. Two, my dick wasn’t in her mouth, nor has it ever been in her mouth. And three, you're one to talk! I got to hear all about how much you screamed your boyfriend’s name when he fucked you this weekend. Which, gee, he’s such a good guy he just left you on your porch so you could get sick. And I don’t remember you calling his name out in your sleep. Do you remember that, Bambi?” He asks harshly. “I seem to remember you called out forme. Youbeggedme to stay.”
“He is not my boyfriend and…fuck you, Liam,” I say, trying to keep the tears and anger from drowning me.
“Yeah,” he laughs cruelly, “I wish you would, Britain! Is there a line I can get in? What’s the process for getting in your queue, huh? You know Max, Niko, and Silas are all still single if you want to make your way through them, too.” If I wasn’t firmly against domestic violence, I would slap him. I try to get the rage under control, but I can’t. I try to breathe, but I can’t. I try to say something, but I can’t. The room starts spinning, and I falter.
“Britain?” The word doesn’t come out fully formed, though. Or maybe I don’t hear it fully because everything starts to fade and get fuzzy, and the walls close in and I panic before everything fades to black.
TWENTY-ONE
Britain
I wake up on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance with a stricken, white-faced Liam sitting beside me, practically shaking.
