Andrew

Bobby knows I hate surprises, but he threw a surprise party for me anyways. No doubt he did this to me on purpose - he's always trying to drag me out of my comfort zone.

"Come on," he says, nudging my arm. "Lighten up. This is your party after all."

He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him. "Plus, your best friend spent a lot of time and effort setting this whole thing up . . ." He adds. "That's me, by the way. In case there is any confusion."

A chuckle escapes me before I pry his arm off of me. "You're basically my only friend."

"As sad and pathetic as that sounds, we are not focusing on that. Bobby hands me a drink and ushers me through the crowd of people. "Tonight, we party. You can sulk and be your normal cranky self in the morning. Come on, I needa get laid, and you needa get drunk."

Getting drunk has never been on my priority list. Anything that could potentially get me into trouble with the press is something that I avoid. Having a drink or two is fine, but I know how I get when I've had one too many.

I remember how my mother used to drink a lot before my father sent her to rehab when I was a lot younger. Those weekends Charles would go to visit her, Matthias and I were sent over to stay at our Uncle Lucas's house. It wouldn't have been that bad if my brother had been around the whole time, but he always left to hang out with his friend in the neighborhood - leaving me alone with my uncle.

Suddenly, I find myself squeezing my eyes shut. An unsettling feeling writhes in the pit of my stomach, and I can't shake it. My heartbeat starts racing like crazy, and I know I have to calm myself down before I go into a full-fledged panic attack.

Right when I feel like I'm going to lose control of myself, a tight hold finds its way around my hand. I look to my side to find Sandra right next to me, holding me reassuringly.

My breath gets caught in the back of my throat, and I forget what I was even thinking about before. Now I'm consumed by her crystal blue eyes that are locked onto mine, eyeing me with concern.

"Happy birthday, Andy," she finally says before leaving a timid peck on my cheek. I don't know what's been going on with us lately. The two of us have been getting along fien, and it's starting to scare me.

Sandra was supposed to be ruining my life, and I was supposed to be getting her back for doing so, but so far, my wife and u nborn son are the best things to have ever happened to me.

I duck my head a little to hide the smile that is creeping up on my lips. Hopefully she doesn't notice.

When I look back up, Bobby is gone. "Where'd Bobby go?"

Sandra laughs out loud and points to the bar. There he is, already circling Kate like he's a vulture or something. From what I could tell about Sandra's friend, she's a little on the promiscuous side. She could definitely be a bad influence for my wife.

I squint my eyes at the thought. Luckily I don't have to worry about this now - with Sandra being pregnant and all not many men will be after her, but when the baby's born and her figure comes back...

An interneral groan vibrates in the back of my mind. I don't even know why I care so much. Life was a lot easier when I didn't care about anything.

Ever since the both of us saw our baby on that screen for the first time, the relationship between the two of us had changed. My brain is still trying to figure out what's wrong with me. At the beginning of this marriage, all I wanted to do was destroy her, but now I found myself looking at her. Wanting her.

It's annoying.

My spirits lighten when I see Matthias walking toward me, hand in hand with his wife, Ophelia. He lets go of her and wraps his arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. For a second, I feel myself tense up, but I get over it quickly.

Lia and Sandra go into conversation while I talk to my brother. We engage in small talk for a few minutes, but eventually I get bored.

I walk over to Sandra and grab her hand in mine. She waves goodbye to Lia and Matthias while I pull her off to the more secluded side of the club. Even though neither of us have been here for long, I could tell that standing was becoming a little much for her.

"Sit," I command once we make it to these rounded booths. When she sits, I follow her lead. "Are you feeling okay?"

A light laugh escapes her. "Of course, I'm fine. You need to stop worrying so much."

"I'm allowed to worry about my wife and unborn child." My voice grows serious and I frown down at her. "In fact, you should probably be a little more careful as well. You're almost seven months pregnant, and you should really-"

Sandra takes my hand in hers. "Andy, I'm fine. Really."

My harsh eyes soften as she stares at me with those crystal eyes. Clearing my throat, I take a deep breath and then let it out. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

Today is the day of the baby shower. That meant that I couldn't be home all afternoon, unless I wanted to be surrounded by lots of women who would most likely give me a headache.

Being around large groups of people has never been my thing to begin with anyways.

Rain pelts on my windshield as I drive down the busy streets. The rhythm is calming, and necessary to drown out all of the honking and shouting of the New Yorkers around me. Every single beat of the little water droplets is one more noise to take away from anything the outside world has to offer.

Another red light makes me stomp on the breaks, causing a squeal to come from the back tires. I groan in frustration. At this rate it would take me ages to get back to the loft, leaving Sandra home alone for even longer than she probably planned - though she never complained about me being out for so many hours.

I scowl, my gaze finding no particular spot. She probably didn't even miss me while I was gone. This wouldn't surprise me since our marriage is barely genuine, but still, after living together and sleeping in the same bed each night for three months, you'd think the connection would be more than just one-sided.

Is it even one-sided, or am I just constantly trying to trick myself into thinking I could feel anything for anyone?

This couldn't be how my life will always be. I deserve more than a wife I didn't want and a son I didn't ask for, don't I? Do I even deserve anything at all?

Everything that's happened to me in the past could answer both those questions for me. The answer would be no. I don't deserve anything at all. Just like Charles would always say: 'You're worthless and if you're given anything in your pitiful existence, you should consider it a miracle. Nothing is given to those who are undiserving of greatness."

Those words stuck with me ever since he told me almsot a decade ago. I was not even ten years old, and my father already knew that I wasn't going to measure up.

A horn honks from behind me, signaling that I'd zoned out. Quickly, I slam my foot on the accelerator, and the car jerks forwards. I reach to my cheek after turning the corner - a small dab of warm liquid is on my fingertip when I pull away. My thumb and finger rub together, spreading the liquid around.

I rub the palm of my hard against my eye. There is no way in hell I am going to start crying over something so stupid. So my father hates me, big deal? It's not like there's anything I can do about it, so why dwell?

It's time for me to grow up, and stop acting like such a child.

The calming noise that had been keeping my emotions at least a little at bay, is now gone - the roof of the parking garage makes sure of that. I let out a sigh as I park in my usual space, and turn off the car.

For a second, I let my head rest against the seat. With a grunt, I take the key out of the ignition and open the car door. My feet find the pavement, and I slam the door behind me - I click the lock button and the car honks, loudly telling me the signal went through.

When I walk into the apartment, Sandra is leaning back on the couch, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

I shrug off my jacket and hang it on a hanger, then take a seat next to her.

"What we watching?" I ask, taking a handful of the popcorn that's in the bowl in front of her.

"Just some dumb reality show," she mumbles. "The annoyance in her tone is surprising considering I let her have this dumb baby shower. After her and her friends trash the place with gifts and all sorts of paper plates covered in the remaining pieces of cake, I thought she'd be a little more thankful.

"Sorry," she adds, noticing my groan in frustration. "Today has been a long day. What about you?"

"What about me?" I grumble in between popcorn bites.

"How was your day?

A low growl vibrates in the back of my throat before I grab her by the neck and pull her to me. At first she tries to pull her mouth away from mine, but when I lightly trace my tongue along her bottom lip, she allows me the entrance I want.

After a few seconds, she tries to pull away again, and this time she succeeds. "What are you doing?"

"You asked me how my day was, and I don't want to talk about it," I say, breathlessly. Gently, I position the both of us so that she's on her back, and I'm hovering just above her belly - making sure not to put any pressure on our unborn child. "Now lay still."

Before my lips can connect with hers again, a small jolt collides with my lower stomach. I quickly bounce back and off the couch in surprise. Sandra starts to rub her belly in a soothing manner, while I try to collect my thoughts.

Sandra had been telling me about the amazing feeling of a baby's kick, but I hadn't actually felt it for myself until just now.

"He's been doing that all day," she says, smiling down at her belly. "Here."

Before I can pull back, she grabs my hand and places it where hers was just a second. Nothing happens at first, but after a little patience, another jolt happens right under my palm.

I suck in a sharp breath, then let it out - an astonished laugh escapes my lips. My other hand finds another spot on her belly, feeling around for another kick.

"You said he's been doing this all day?" I ask, my voice almost a whisper. All the emotions I'm feeling right now are new to me, and I don't know how to deal with any of them.

Sandra nods. "He stopped a little while ago, but since you got here he's been starting up all over again."

The more the baby kicks, the more speechless I become. I don't know how to handle these kinds of things. My brain is rambling for some known emotion, but none comes to mind. Everything is just a big blank right now, except for my future son.

***

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