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Ugh.
My orders from Rose today were to pack up what I planned on bringing. The sad truth is that I have nothing to bring. Most of my clothes that I have now are too small for my baby bump, which is no longer a baby bump, but a fucking boulder attached to my stomach. I have four months left, and I swear my body won't be able to hold itself upright if I get any bigger.
It's fine to wear my clothes when I'm home, because I either wear oversized—now small—shirts around my house without worry that I'm going to run into anyone. But the thought of going to California with all these tanned, skinny, blonde girls everywhere while petite me walks around with a house attached to my midsection sounds so unappealing, I'd rather eat a bowl of nails for breakfast.
Another thing that's making me bite my nails to the stubs is the thought of going on a plane. I've never been on one before. Like, ever. Rose says it's nothing, it's the thought of it that's scarier than the actual task.
I’d rather drive, but Jackson brought up something about blood clots in legs of pregnant women sitting for long periods of time and flying issomuch safer.Whatever.Jackson seems to know everything about pregnancies lately and it’s making me feel a bit incompetent. Shouldn’t I know about the blood clots? But I don’t. I knownothing. And it makes me feel like a shitty mother.
Fucking Jackson.
Lately, between us, it’s like we’re sweeping the baby and our problems under the rug. He’s been dealing with Easton and Rich lately getting ready for California, but when he’s around me, all chats about the adoption and our issues have disappeared. Evaporated into smoke.
I’m not even going to see him before we get on the plane. Him and Easton have been at the warehouse for the past two days and I’ve heard nothing from him. Easton has replied to Rose because well… I think she’d kill him if he went that long without responding to her.
This whole trip has just left a sour taste in my mouth. They haven’t been on a “job” since the Wisconsin trip, and that ended in bloodshed. The thought of something happening to one of them this time around is stressing methe fuckout.
They keep telling me nothing is going to happen.Thisjob isn’t like the other one. Well, are they bringing a gun?Then they’re all the fucking same.
“Cara?” Rose opens the door and I hear banging. She walks in all flawless, legs for damn days in a summer dress with a slit up the side as she pulls an oversized suitcase behind her. “Sorry, this is the only other suitcase I could find. Might have gotten rid of the others when we moved.” She frowns, setting an ugly as shit, pink, girly suitcase in front of me.
Yeah, I had to ask to borrow a suitcase. The only thing I have in terms of a bag is my busted-up backpack from school. Rose refused to let me use it.
“Are you kidding me? That thing is fucking ugly.” My nose wrinkles in disgust as I point at it. I’m sure maybe a handful of people would like this monstrosity, but that much pink shouldneverbe on one item.Ever.
Rose frowns. “It’s cute! And it’s the only one I had left!”
“What suitcase are you using?”
She stops frowning and gives me a blank stare. “My Versace suitcase.Mine.”
“It’s black isn’t it.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it’s black. If you don’t want to use this one, I’ll take it home.”
“I told you I’d use my backpack.” I grumble, folding my arms over my chest, which end up resting on my ever-growing belly.”
Her eyes grow wide. “You’re not going to California with that thing. Come on, please?”
I walk up to it and grab it out of her hands. “I’ll use it. Shit, it should be burned.” It hurts my eyes, really. It looks like someone puked bubblegum and this was the outcome. Something that should’ve been torched and buried so deep into the earth I forget about it all together.
But no, instead, my hand is gripping it like a lifeline, and I’ve got a killer migraine starting in my temples.
“It’s fuckingGucci, Cara! Fuck, your pregnancy hormones are making you into a crazy bitch.”
I drop the suitcase and run my hands down my face. Guilt eats me up and I instantly feel bad for being such an ass. “Shit, I’m sorry. With everything that’s going on, I just feel like I’m kind of losing it, you know?”
She gives me an understanding look. “I completely get it. Last year… last year Ididlose it.”
I frown. “Of course. Why am I bringing up my petty bullshit with everything you went through?”
Rose’s eyes grow wide. She walks forward, grabbing onto my biceps and looking straight into my eyes. “Stop. It’s not a competition on who had a more fucked up life. My life was like a combination of shitty situations that turned into an apocalypse in my brain. Your life, on the other hand, has been unfortunate circumstances that you’ve had to grow up with. You can’t help your upbringing and it’s just… it’s just hard. But I don’t doubt for a second you’re going to rock this world. You can’t help your parents being assholes, that Logan died, that Jackson is a fucking douche bag or anything that happens in the future. Most of it is out of our control. All we can control is how wereact. Don’t let the bullshit get to you.”
I lift my chin and nod at her. I’m usually the strong one between us, and I don’t like how I’ve been so emotional these few weeks.
I hate being weak, and I feelso damn weak.
“I’m going to go pack.” I grip the suitcase again and start pulling it towards my room.
