i’ll walk through hell with you
chapter 2: i guess truth is what you believe in
read chapter one
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Amy and Leah visit family, a holiday is celebrated, and illness takes over the Santiago-Peralta household.
december
If there is one thing Amy is certain of, stuck in the car with 97 miles to go and an overtired toddler in the back seat, it is that something must be seriously wrong with her.
No one in their right mind says yes to a family weekend upstate with all siblings and their families nine days before Christmas. Not when it’s a three-hour drive. Not while they’re already left alone to care for their child for the weekend due to a time-sensitive and crucial opportunity coming up in a case Jake has worked for two months. Not when previously mentioned child is recovering from a cold and is ten times more cranky and attention-craving than normal.
Except - apparently - Amy.
She doesn't know what the fuck she was thinking.
She knows some thought went into her plan, such as the idea to drive late at night so Leah could sleep in the car. She simply wishes it could have worked, because right now the toddler is singing Wheels On The Bus for the seventeenth time in forty minutes and Amy feels like her head is going to explode. It's a quarter to ten, over two hours past the kid’s bedtime, and so far she refuses to fall asleep. She's wide awake in her seat, chatting and laughing and singing like there’s no tomorrow. If Amy had as much as a spare drop of energy left -even better, if there had been another parent in the car to focus on entertaining their child - the whole thing would have been adorable, but tonight it’s exhausting above anything else.
“Maaa-maaa?” Leah shouts the word from the back seat, wildly kicking her legs against the back cushioning, and Amy has to take a deep breath before she can reply in a calm tone.
“Yes, baby?”
“Are we there?”
“Not yet, Lee.”
Amy can see the reflection of Leah scrunching her forehead in the baby car mirror. “Why?”
“Because we still have a little way left to drive. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”
“Soon?” Leah shines up, kicking her legs again. “When is soon?”
“It will go faster if you close your eyes for a while,” She tries, using one of the oldest parenting tricks in the book. “I promise.”
“Not tired!” Her daughter responds in her cheeriest voice, and Amy gives herself a mental pat on the back for stifling a groan.
They repeat this exchange about ten times or so before Leah tires of it and returns to her singing. At that point, Amy’s counting it as a win. As much as she loves being this kid’s mom, there are indubitably times - and late-night drives with an overtired two-year-old in the back seat - when she loves it less.
Then Leah falls asleep for the last ten miles of the drive and clutches her arms and legs around Amy like a koala to a tree when she’s lifted out of her car seat and carried to bed, and it’s easier than ever to love being a mom.
-
There’s never an uneventful day with all of the Santiagos in the same house, and it’s not any more relaxing with the extra presence of six partners, twelve grandchildren, and one dog. From the moment Amy and Leah make their way down to the kitchen for breakfast, and the toddler finds out there might be a cookie baking session with grandma happening today, the day is in full swing. Leah joins her in facetiming Jake for a few minutes to say good morning, but after that, Amy barely sees her daughter for more than a split second in several hours.
The chaos is a welcome distraction. She plays Cards Against Humanity with Luis’s teenage daughters and Julian until Simon starts begging them to help him make a YouTube video, and she teaches five-year-old Noah how to draw the perfect portrait of a horse. She reads a story to three-year-old Maisie, and she laughs heartily at the sight of Leah chasing Oscar the Bichon Frise around while yelling Kitty Cat!. For a few, wondrous hours, Amy manages to live in blissful oblivion over the two starkly negative pregnancy tests she unceremoniously shoved in the bathroom trash can before leaving yesterday, and it feels like heaven.
It feels like heaven up until she joins the crew of brothers and partners currently taking up space in the kitchen. Her brother Isaac is parked in the middle of the kitchen couch, feeding the youngest Santiago member, just-turned one-month-old Milo, with a bottle; around him Camila, Luis, Tony and his wife Clara all fawn over and admire every aspect of the newborn’s appearance. Christian, Julian and Julian’s husband Lucas are at the other end of the kitchen cuddling with and doting on the exhausted dog, and Amy silently curses her allergies for making her unable to join them. Simon just brought out his camera in the living room and she refuses to risk another unwilling YouTube appearance, so her only option is to sit down with the team of awestruck baby-admirers.
“You forget how tiny they are,” Luis says, watching the infant with a nostalgic glance in his eyes. “I’ve had five, and you never get used to it.”
“You don’t,” Camila confirms with a small laugh, reaching out to stroke the baby’s closed fist with her thumb and index finger. “Not even I do. I’m shocked every time!”
“I thought I remembered everything from when Maisie was born.” Isaac grins, giving the empty baby bottle to Camila and carefully lifting the infant upright against his shoulder. “But then he comes out, and I think he must be several pounds lighter because surely Maisie was never this tiny, but he was bigger!” He shakes his head. “It’s insane.”
“He’s so cute,” Tony chimes in. “Do you get to sleep anything? I’m nervous about that.” His left hand is resting next to Clara’s on top of her visible baby bump. Amy lets out an audible snort upon hearing about her brother’s main cause for worry, but Isaac just grins.
“You get used to it. It’ll probably be worse for Clara anyway.”
“Great.” Clara grimaces, turning to Amy. “I can’t even sleep now! I either have a baby sleeping on top of my bladder or kicking me in the ribs for the whole night.”
“I remember.” She smiles, thinking back to the few times late in her pregnancy she’d made Jake sleep on the couch only because she couldn’t stand listening to his snoring on top of it all. “It sucks, and then everyone keeps telling you to sleep while you still can and you’re trying not to punch them.”
“Exactly!” Her sister-in-law laughs, tucking a strand of red-blonde hair behind her ear. “At least everyone says it’s worth it.”
“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have done it so many times,” says Camila, and Clara looks relieved. “Oh, Amy, you need to hold Milo for a little while! He’s been in everyone’s arms except for yours today. Isaac, send him to Amy.”
“Oh.” She squirms in her seat, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s okay. I was just going to look for Leah anyway -”
“Leah’s upstairs doing puzzles with Sarah and Samuel,” Isaac explains, referring to David’s two-year-old twins. “She’s fine. You can hold him, Ames.”
“I think I’m good… okay, no choice, I see.” Her younger brother’s already holding out the infant to her, and before she can adjust to the thought, there’s a tiny, yawning baby in her arms.
It’s achingly familiar, yet it feels like it’s been forever.
At first, it’s like every muscle fiber in her body tenses with the sudden awareness that there's a fragile, helpless human in her arms and the weight of terrifying responsibility resting with her for a moment. It's been two years since Amy last held a newborn, and she certainly forgot how breakable they feel when they haven't learned to support their own head. Then Milo lets out a content sigh, his mouth twitching like he's smiling at her, and although she knows he's too small and it's likely just gas, the brief facial expression makes her feel chosen.
She's missed this, she realizes. Noting the classic Santiago baby appearance traits, the head of dark hair and the little button nose, she thinks of countless hours spent holding her own clingy newborn two years ago, and bites her lip when she remembers that she still has no idea when she’ll get to do it again. Milo’s adorable, and Amy's secretly wishing he could stay in her arms forever or she could steal him and take him home with her, but he's also a painful reminder of what she wants most and doesn't have yet.
“He likes you,” Isaac comments, nodding towards the infant. “You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one?”
She freezes at the sound of his question, instantly clueless about what constitutes a good reply. She could tell him the truth, of course, and probably receive a flood of well-meaning advice about the best ways to conceive, but doing so would lead to expectations. Santiagos aren’t known for struggling to have kids, and she’s terrified of handling a hoard of family members subtly trying to figure out whether or not she's pregnant every time they see her. It's enough pressure coming from herself. She doesn't need people adding to it - least of all her family.
“Oh,” she says instead, avoiding eye contact by playing with one of Milo’s fists. “Well, we’re not sure yet.”
“Two years is the best age span between siblings,” Luis chimes in. “We always tried to aim for two years and our kids are super close.”
“Yes, yes, two years is perfect,” Camila agrees, nodding eagerly. “The adjustment is much more difficult when they’ve turned three, or four, and suddenly they’re not the youngest anymore… Sometimes I think Tony never got over his grudges against Simon!”
“I’m telling you, mom, that’s not it, we have a grudge because four years ago he made me do that awful cinnamon challenge that almost gave me an asthma attack and filmed it -”
“Two years is great,” Christian interrupts his younger brother’s story without remorse. “We went for two years between Isabel and Noah and it was perfect. You do want to have more than one kid, right?”
Amy has never wished harder for a baby in her arms to start crying.
She needs to get away, out of the situation where she has to hear and answer these sudden intrusive questions, but Milo shows no signs of waking. She’s stuck with a panicky, claustrophobic sensation in her chest and a forced smile on her lips.
“We do,” she replies to Christian’s question, weighing every word carefully. “We’re just not sure when.”
“No point in waiting,” says Isaac, looking at the baby in Amy’s arms. “I wish we’d had Milo earlier!”
There must be a lack of air in the room, or her allergy medicines have stopped working and are making her react to the dog, because she can’t shake the feeling she’s suffocating. She's feeling trapped even in the spacious kitchen, and although she knows everyone has their eyes fixed on Milo, she can't shake the feeling it's her they're staring at.
She wonders if they're seeing right through her; if they somehow know about negative pregnancy tests of yesterday, or if they can sense her desperation and frustration in the fake smile plastered on her face.
“I suppose you never know,” she answers somehow, heart pounding too quickly. “I, uh… have to go to the bathroom. Do you want to hold him for a little while, Clara?”
Amy senses eyes on her as she sneaks out the kitchen, hurries through the hallway and grabs her coat before heading out and sitting down on the porch, but she can't bring herself to care. She has to fill her lungs with fresh air and get away from well-meaning but prying questions, or she’s going to have a full-on breakdown.
There’s a layer of snow on the ground, too thin for any children or adults to be playing in but enough to give a sense of hope for a white Christmas. She scrapes her fingers through the minuscule ice crystals gathered on the wooden decking, drawing an uneven heart with her index finger and following it with another.
You do want to have more than one kid, right?
She draws a third, smaller heart below the two bigger ones.
You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one anytime soon?
She draws a fourth tiny heart next to the third one.
No point in waiting.
She hides her fist in the sleeve of her winter coat, rubbing it over her drawings and turning them into nothingness. She curses the fact that Jake’s working, that he and Rosa are following up some highly important leads today and their mission would likely be sabotaged if she called and interrupted her husband now, and she curses the fact that Leah’s having the time of her life playing with her cousins and would probably scream in protest if Amy tried to steal her for cuddles.
It’s not too cold outside with her warm coat keeping her comfortable, but she’s still shivering, so she wraps her arms around herself and tries to blink away the tears taking form in her eyes.
She’s aware she’s being ridiculous. Having a baby takes more than a couple months of trying in many, many cases - the majority of them, even. She’s far from unique, yet a sneaking suspicion and vexing anxiety are lingering with her.
No point in waiting.
She puts one hand on her chest and one hand over her stomach, trying to focus on the fresh air flowing in through her nose and out through her mouth, filling and leaving her for each inhale and exhale.
“Just relax,” she whispers to herself, pretending it's Jake's voice saying the words, his unwavering belief that it will all be fine she's listening to.
“Are you sure you’re still my sister? Have you had some kind of personality change?”
“Huh?” Amy almost jumps at the sound of Julian’s voice, bringing her out of her focused breathing and forcing her to look up.
“You’re willingly outside in the cold weather,” he declares, slumping down next to her. “Even with a coat on, that's impressive for you.” She notes that he's only wearing a hoodie himself and seems unbothered by the temperature.
“I needed fresh air.”
“Because of Oscar? I swear his breed is supposed to be allergy-friendly, we researched that stuff in depth. Maybe your allergies are just undefeatable?”
“No, it’s fine as long as I don't pet him.” Amy places a hand on her brother's shoulder, squeezing it. “Oscar’s great. Leah's in love with him.”
“Isn't he amazing?” Julian's grin is comically wide, his eyes sparkling with undiluted pride. “He can sit, and roll, and catch, and play dead if he gets enough candy! Parenthood is incredible. I’m so glad our kids get along.” He doesn't entirely sound like he’s joking, and Amy can't help but laugh at his excitement. “So if it wasn't Oscar, why did you leave?”
“Were you listening to the conversation?”
“Eh, bits and pieces. How so?”
She sighs. “They - mom, and Isaac and Christian, mostly - interrogated me about whether we’re planning to have another baby anytime soon.”
“And you’re not?”
“We are! We’re actively trying for it.”
“Oh! Cool,” Julian nods, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I can get behind that. I wouldn't have anything against reproducing with those Peralta genes either if I could.” Amy elbows her brother in the side at that, probably way harder than necessary, and it makes him gasp in offense. “Hey! It’s just objective facts that he's attractive!”
“I’m telling Lucas you said that.”
“Lucas agrees. Either way - if you actually are trying, what's with the tears and the sudden storming out?”
“I didn't storm out,” she protests, and he gives her a meaning look of judgment as if to say yes, you did. “And it's nothing.”
Julian snorts. “Sure it is.”
“It's not a big deal.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“It's just making me a little stressed is all.”
“A little.”
“Okay, okay, fine.” Amy groans, placing her head in both hands and quickly running her fingers through her hair. There's a knot in the back of it, and she busies herself trying to pull it apart as she speaks. “We are trying. It's just not going very well yet, I guess. It’s making me nervous, and it's not something I want to tell everyone in our family about, because, well… we’re not exactly known for struggling with that.”
Julian is silent, and there’s a moment where Amy wonders if she’s managed the impossible. For all their countless petty fights and differences, Julian has always had a reply to offer her. Sometimes he’s supportive, sometimes questioning, and sometimes he’s all over judging her decisions, but he never ignores her worries when she chooses to confide in him. It throws her off to see him take so long to answer her now, and she watches him twist the white gold wedding ring on his finger absentmindedly while he grimaces.
“No,” he says right as she starts to consider tapping him on the shoulder to make sure he’s conscious. “I guess we’re not known for struggling with anything. Has this… been a problem for a long time?”
“A couple of months.”
“...Is that a long time? I’m not great with this heterosexual business. I’m much better with waiting times for adopting a dog.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “It’s not that long. But it’s longer when you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.” Julian looks about as perplexed as if she’d been trying to explain the intricate details of quantum physics to him, and she clarifies. “Fertility decreases as you age.”
“Right. Yeah.”
“I’m thirty-nine. Maybe I shouldn't panic yet, but in a year, or two…” Amy shakes her head. “It gets really low. Higher chances of miscarrying. Chromosome variations. Premature birth. You name it. Basically, the sooner I get pregnant now, the better and safer it is for everyone.”
“I see.”
“So there's some time pressure,” she explains further, connecting her hands inside the coat sleeves to eliminate the cold that's started to seep in. “And it’s making me terrified something's wrong with me already. That it's not going to work. That we’ll never be able to have a second kid. I know that's maybe not the end of the world, but… I really, really want it, and I’d be heartbroken if it didn’t happen.”
A pair of stubborn, humiliating teardrops make their way down her cheeks at the thought, and she untangles her hands to quickly wipe them away.
“I’m sure it'll work out, Ames.” Julian's smile is partly sympathetic and partly insecure when he speaks, like this subject is miles out of his comfort zone but he's trying his best anyway. “As you said, two months is nothing, right? Mom was like, 42 when she had Simon. Surely if anyone's got the genes for this, it’s our family.”
“Yeah. It's never a guarantee, though, and I can’t handle their questions. Two years is the best time between siblings,” she imitates in an exaggerated high-pitched tone, and Julian laughs heartily. “As if I wasn’t already pressuring myself about the same thing. But I can't tell them that, because then they’d start asking.”
“Mm, our family does lack all understanding of what privacy is sometimes.” Julian grins. “There are several options even for gay men! Surrogates! Adoption! I read this article in a magazine where a pair co-parented with lesbians!” His shrill imitation tone is awful and hilarious at the same time, making Amy snicker. “I think she was mad at me for weeks after I told her we were happy with a dog. She means well, but it just becomes a lot.”
“Doesn’t get easier when it’s something you already want, either.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Maybe. I hope so.”
“If not, I’m pro-dogs. They’re pretty much like children, except you don’t have to create a college fund for them. A win-win situation if it weren’t for the fact that owning a dog could probably kill you. But other than that!” Julian stretches his arms over his head, looking mighty proud of himself. “Solid.”
“I’m already busy trying to talk Jake out of buying a cat,” says Amy, massaging her temples at the thought. “But he’s managed to get Leah obsessed with them, so I think I’m losing.”
“That’s why she’s calling Oscar a cat! Wow. Jake’s a genius.”
“Well, that and she’s two. And please don’t ever tell him that, because his ego would literally explode.”
Amy can feel her face going numb from the cold outside, a sudden gust of wind coming at them and making her eyes tear for a new reason. The fact that she’s lost track of time hits her, awakening an uneasiness and a sudden need to get inside and check up on how her daughter’s doing, so she gives Julian a quick, rare hug, and is surprised when he squeezes her back for a long time.
“Thanks for coming out,” she mumbles, and he nods.
“Of course. I just don’t like seeing you cry.”
“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”
“You look so weird when you do,” he says with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes at the mock insult. “No one should have to see that.”
“Fuck off, Jules.”
“Yep. Now let’s go make sure our kids are still alive and haven’t eaten any couches. Is that a thing with human children too?”
~
january
It’s a good Christmas.
It’s a Christmas where Amy can allow herself some time to relax and unwind, put her worries aside and focus on her family during the ten days both her and Jake manage to garner off work. It’s a long-awaited and dearly welcomed break from early daycare drop-offs, ten-minute-dinners, and infinite planning to make sure nothing is forgotten.
Instead there is time for slow wakeups, snuggling with Leah when she crawls into their bed in the early hours of the morning and giving in to her request of watching iPad in their bed only so they can keep their eyes closed for a little while longer. There's time for late-night conversations over a glass of wine that don't feel rushed because at least they don't have somewhere to be tomorrow, and there's time to properly see friends outside of work for the first time in what feels like forever. They go to dinner at Terry’s house, watch Rosa enjoy the indoor trampoline park even more than Leah does, and they gratefully accept Charles’ offer to babysit their daughter for a night. Amy figures the man has a specific motive in mind, but then Jake suggests they spend the night at a hotel and Leah gets ecstatic at the mention of watching Disney movies with her uncle Charles and Nikolaj, so she ends up saying yes. She’s only human, after all, and she’s not going to neglect the rare and precious chance of a sleep-in.
(The date also times mysteriously well with when she should be ovulating.)
(She does not want to ask.)
Even the yearly Christmas dinner with the Santiagos ends up being survivable. Although there are kids crying, odd snarky comments between Tony and Simon, and Leah outright refuses to wear anything but her sequined dinosaur shirt and glittery tights to the event, things proceed smoothly and Amy’s stress levels remain on the healthier part of the scale. She watches Jake hold and make funny faces at Milo and can feel her mom giving them meaning looks from across the room, but she breathes through it and silently thanks the Universe when Leah chooses that exact moment to climb onto Amy’s lap and ask if they can read one of her new books. Sure, part of her wishes she could be gifting her husband a crafted announcement with a baby onesie and a positive pregnancy test much like the ones she’s pinned on Pinterest, but the tender way he hugs her thank you after he opens his gift and sees the photo book filled with pictures with him and Leah, is more than enough to ease her sorrow. He gifts her a gold necklace with the letters J and L in separate miniature hearts, and when he tells her it’s so she can always be keeping them next to her own heart, she tears up and kisses him so long and ardently that he looks a little dazed, blinking with surprise when they part.
It’s a good New Year’s Eve, too. They spend the first part of the evening at the Holt-Cozner New Year’s Party, listening to their daughter proudly tell every guest she’s going to stay up until midnight, and then they try not to laugh when she passes out the moment she’s in her car seat at half-past nine. Jake and Amy end their year in pajamas on the couch, toasting in champagne just for the sake of it and going right to bed afterward.
Next year we’ll have another baby, she thinks to herself before falling asleep about fifteen minutes into the new year, a new sense of shimmering optimism lingering with her. It has to have worked by then.
January is hell. Everyone knows it, specifically, everyone who’s had children at daycare, because January means no one is healthy and neither Jake nor Amy manage a full week at work without taking time off to care for a sick child or themselves. Amy prays they’ll make it through without any cases of stomach flu, but such seems to have been too much to ask, because she’s woken up by devastating crying from Leah’s room on the one night Jake’s doing a night shift and she knows before the two-year-old’s even started retching.
She doesn’t get any sleep that night.
She doesn’t get any sleep the next night either, because when Leah stops throwing up and Amy feels like she can breathe again when the child keeps some applesauce down and asks if she can watch Doc McStuffins, it only takes three hours before Jake starts complaining about feeling sick.
January must surely be some twisted sort of a joke, she thinks, and disinfects her hands an extra time before she goes to remind her very miserable husband that he’s not actually dying.
It’s only natural, amid the virus-filled havoc, that it takes her a few days to realize she hasn’t gotten her period.
Come to think of it, she is feeling a bit nauseous. The excessive fatigue and emotional imbalance she knows were early symptoms in her first pregnancy is harder to distinguish from the exhaustion after two intense days of caring for poorly family members, but she’s a mom and a Santiago and she categorically never gets sick.
She gives the nausea a day, waiting for it to break out into the same flu Jake and Leah are already victims of, but it doesn’t. It stays the same.
Amy’s never been so excited about nausea in her life.
She waits until Leah’s gone to bed, falling asleep in Amy’s arms on the couch. The two-year-old’s still not quite her energetic, bubbly self and has been stuck to her parents like a needy band-aid for most of the day, and it could have been tiring if it hadn’t also meant lots of cuddles. Right now, though, Amy's arms and back are happy to get a break from carrying the kid around while she lays down next to Jake instead, spooning him and receiving a grateful smile when she starts playing with his hair.
“How are you feeling, babe?”
“Dying. I think I might be dead already,” he groans before turning his head and looking her in the eyes with feigned seriousness. “Please say something nice at my funeral and promise me you'll take care of Charles when I'm gone.”
“You're not dying, Jake.”
“How d’you know?”
“Because you haven't thrown up since last night and you only have a slight fever,” she reminds him, feeling his lukewarm forehead. “You're fine.”
“I am definitely much better with a hot girl draped on top of me,” he says with a smug expression, his hand gently stroking under her old NYPD shirt up her back. She rolls her eyes, because looks haven't exactly been the top priority for the last three days and she's not sure when she last washed her hair, yet Jake never stops making an effort to charm her. “How are you feeling, Ames?”
“Actually, I've been kind of nauseous all day. But I'm not sure it's stomach flu.”
“Huh? What else would it be?”
“I'm thinking,” she presses her index finger to his chest, “maybe I should take a pregnancy test.”
“Oh.” He squints at her. “Why?”
Amy gives him an exasperated look.
“Okay, yeah. But you’ve also spent the last three days taking care of your sick family. Leah was throwing up on us. Are you sure you're not just ill?”
“I have a good feeling,” she insists, because she does - there's a renewed sense of hope and blind faith that perhaps this could be it, resting with her. “And I never get sick.”
“Once again, your daughter was vomiting on you and I'm still convinced I might be dying. This is a brutal virus, Ames.”
“Clearly.” She runs her fingers through his messier-than-usual curls again, and his mouth shapes into a content smile despite his still worried eyes. “I’m still going to take that test, though. In case.”
“In case,” he repeats slowly. “Well, it’s your body.”
“Exactly.” She kisses his forehead. “You get it. I’ll be right back.”
Amy takes these tests with ease now. She’s been doing them two, three times extra following every first negative in a desperate hope for the result to change. False negatives are common, test results are safer the longer after a missed period they’re taken, and there’s no reason not to test an extra time. Long story short, she's becoming a pro at taking pregnancy tests, but so far the single lines and minus signs are staying the same.
She says a silent prayer this one will be an exception.
Plastic cap off, pee for five seconds, plastic cap back on, lay the test flat and wait while trying not to freak out. She manages all steps but the final.
She carries the little plastic stick out to the living room coffee table gently as if it had been made of glass.
“Three minutes,” she informs Jake, and he nods while she sets a timer on her phone. In three minutes, they'll know whether her good feeling is right or dead wrong, and the nausea increases but this time Amy thinks it's nerves.
She doesn't want to stare, but she does anyway, waiting for a second line to appear no matter how faint. Jake sits up next to her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, and she manages a weak smile without lifting her eyes from the test.
The timer goes off without a second line appearing.
Amy lifts the test to inspect it closer, but there's not even a hint of anything. She gives it to Jake for a second opinion, and he inspects it just as closely before shaking his head and mumbling a quiet sorry, babe.
She's not pregnant this month either.
“It’s okay, Ames. Three months is nothing.”
She doesn’t realize there are tears in her eyes until they’re trailing down her cheeks and Jake’s hand is there, wiping them away. She presses on his wrist to move it, make him stop because she’s not okay and she doesn’t want him pressuring her to feel anything but the searing disappointment coursing through her veins.
“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head. “I just feel so stupid. I thought I was feeling something.”
“You’re not stupid,” he tells her, and the tenderness in his voice erases her annoyance. “You want this really bad. I do, too, but… well, it’s not my body.”
“Not your body being a massive failure.”
“Hey!” Jake holds up one hand like he’s making a stop motion. “No one talks that way about my wife!”
“Ha-ha.”
“I’m serious! You don’t get to say those things, okay? You know it’s not true.” She hums a doubting sound, and he sighs, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Ames, we’ll just try again. We already did a great job once, and there are moments I wish we hadn’t, because if we didn’t have a toddler in daycare I would be so much healthier… okay, I still don’t regret it,” he adds. “Except maybe the daycare part, because I swear I’m sick all the time.”
“You love our daycare! Without it, you’d never get to eat that Scientology-guy’s chocolate chip cookies at every parent meeting.”
“Fair point. Craig, right? Weirdly good baker. Fine - I guess I don’t regret the daycare either. But you’re about to.”
This time, she’s the one squinting at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Still feeling nauseous?”
“Kind of, why are you… oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. Your immune system isn’t undefeatable!”
“It’s still better than yours,” she counters, and Jake just grins.
“But not undefeatable.”
She gives him a slow nod, trying to hide the despondency on her face as she takes the negative test from his hands.
“I’m just going to throw this away.”
Amy is certain of it when she wakes up three hours later, almost throwing herself out of bed to make it to the bathroom in time - January is officially and unquestionably hell.
~
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I'm so sorry I told her off, but also glad because I took my power back. And I shouldn't have to make myself submit when I don't want to.
If I'm vanilla for a long time and I just don't feel getting my ass beat purple and blue, then yea, sorry we're not a good match because I'm out here lookin for love.
Not another fwb to get you high and horny, but then there's no love, care, support, or respect for the other's wishes.
Like never again to telling someone I'm a Switch.
I want no bdsm related shit in my next relationship. Cause I'd be damn if I get another emotional reject who can't compromise and understand why I take that quitting, rude af, dismissive ass attitude so fucking hard.
I could have bear her ass. That's how fucking mad I was at Jay and now at her. Cause you don't ever disrespect or disregard another person's emotions after they just told you wtf they just came out of. If you are not equipped to even care or remember how sensitive I am or what the fuck I just told yo ass what somebody did to me and how i react to that shit....don't fuckin say I didn't told you so when you hit that motherfucking button and I flip on yo ass real quick, just because you wanna be a selfish ass dick and i pretty much remember everything single you told me about your family.
Learn how to respect people's pain and boundaries instead being a lazy asshole talking to other women and then like gaslighting like you weren't occupied with someone else...cause I'm not dumb and I'm not stupid. I know the neglectful signs and I'm not finna put up with it anymore just because you don't think it's a big deal.
It's a big fucking deal to. And you're a shitty person who'll have a hard time finding someone else, just because you can't understand or care to listen when somebody explaining themselves.
And to think I wanted to risk going out on a date with you?
You're horrible and you hit like a bitch. I got hurt by alot of women and guys on the app.
Just showing me it's not the right time to start a loving life right now, to cover up the bad one I still feel I just out of 3 mths ago, but it's actually been a year. And the last message they sent me was in January, before I exploded on them. I had blocked their number so they dm me on Instagram, "Did you send these long ass messages?" Like a dirty old grandpa that didn't want to admit that he cared or that he was wrong for ignoring me and leading me on for quite some time. And the neglectful abandonment wounds he knew he tripped over to get me suicidal and depressed like this to runaway from them and never spot on say the reason why I hurt Ayunna by not sleeping with her. It was because I loved him, but he was engaged to marry some ugly bitch who I don't even wanna waste time for seeing again. Because he'll do is look away and not even admit he stole money from me and hit me when I was drunk and not even acknowledge I should have took him to court for several of his actions when he was a lazy, greedy fuck up, a drunk telling me off for trying to be his girlfriend and making it seemed like I wasn't here for love, when really I was. And he couldn't believe me when I said it so many times.
But I couldn't say I love you in person, when Ayunna was always watching, you telling me not to touch you, not to look at you, and even giving me the stank eye just for coming when you're the one who asked me to come over.
You broke up with me long time ago before I ever said I loved you and you lied to me. And said you felt nothing but lust. And then you brought me back again after blocking me for months because Ayunna didn't want us to be friends anymore. You lied to us both.
And she's still here with you.
The reason why I stay away is because of her. Always taking your side even when you're wrong, always breathing under you and on top of you because I look better than her and she was jealous.
I don't look Nothing like her but she tried to make me feel ugly.
Just like how Cinderellas step sisters treated her, right before she went into her castle and married the prince.
He's still married now, but the prince is me.
And I have to build my own castle.
I became a man because somebody's broke my girls heart. I became you and me. In order to leave you and her alone, for good.
I still fight with myself everyday not to go back. Cause how could I? You tried to put me in jail over some texts, cause you got scared and probably petrified that I would even try to come back and hurt you.
For what you said, I remember everything now.
Not only was your father a deadbeat, but so are you.
Everything happens for a reason 😌
Why I'm not sure.
But I'm glad you're not looking for me. Cause trouble follows Ayunna because she's married to an idiot who harasses and blocks the other women who need closure.
And I'll be in my magical castle, that I still need to build in my roommate apartment. And how can I wait 😁
I'm still gonna wear my tomboy shit and crop tops just because I like dudes clothes and tons of pockets to hide candy and gummies in lol 😆
I'm still not sure if you hate me or you like me just because I'm beautiful just like you. And you don't see yourself as that and that's sad, because you were trying to scam me to move into your life and I can't do that.
God won't accept me there. We're not supposed to be-dsm together and I'm not sure what we are....like soul-pals but not soulmates....or at least you don't wanna admit it because I've changed and I used to believe love was just only because you felt good.
But she's not right, Ayunna can't be the only I feel not in love with in order to be a throuple.
She failed us. And I couldn't make her love me or want a bunch of kids for you and me, cause I'd would want to be that dad-mom role too. I just hate bdsm and the way it values and devalues other human beings. It's a very upsetting culture that I have to protect myself from And it's absolutely absurd the ridiculous standards people expect you to do after just scaring you and scarring you into submission, over and over again until you become addicted to pain.
I don't like it and it hurts my back. Triggers my ptsd wounds and childhood trauma. I can't do it.
Cause something else comes out of me each time. Like off of Scooby-Doo movie. Those monsters grew out of Freddy and Velma backs, the first time the sun whipped them out of that brainwash. I can't tolerate pain the same way like you.
I have to become someone else in order for me to endure. And that's either my mom or my dad.
And last time you caught me off guard, so it was me.
My innocence took the hit. And my virginity gone.
I said that's the last time I'll ever get fuckin hit like that. And my emo self was stuck in that imaginary apartment. The same one at Clovertree. My body still remembers it. But thank God he helped me free her from there, so now it's just us. Me and my dad.
Because I became my father when my mom pushed me to fall, and I felt his spirit catch me from falling backwards. I've never had to be so strong, to even fight myself from hurting her.
But now all he wants to do is protect me, even if that means no boys or girls who think like boys to become them later and try to take advantage of his daughter.
He hated that I tolerated it and now I even stood myself up to mars cause she tried to do the same thing and she ain't no dom. I know the difference.
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