Page 72 of Trial and Error

Bridget rests her cheek on my shoulder as we look down at baby Freya. My gaze flickers up and I see Oscar and Isobel look at each other with knowing smirks. I feel understood—like they see that with Bridget is where I belong.

We sit in silence for no more than ten minutes when the sound of Olivia’s feet hitting the carpet on the landing breaks us out of our trance. She bolts down the stairs and when she sees her parents she rushes over and jumps into Oscar’s arms. Olivia doesn’t notice Freya at first, but when her baby sister whines quietly, her head turns toward us and down at the baby.

“Mommy’s baby!” She giggles, squirming in my brother’s arms. “Let me down, Daddy.”

Oscar walks over with her still in his arms and sets her down on the sofa next to Bridget. Olivia puts her hand on Bridget’s leg and smiles up at her. Oscar takes his youngest daughter and places her in the arms of his eldest.

“Be gentle, okay?” he says calmly as Olivia pats Freya’s stomach. “She’s very fragile, so you need to be careful.”

Olivia nods, her braid falling over her shoulder. I watch as she looks down at her sister and then at Isobel with wide eyes. “She looks like me!” She beams, touching the tip of Freya’s nose with her finger. “Look, Aunt Diddy, she looks like me!”

Bridget stiffens, looking over at me over her shoulder, a confused frown on her face. I place my hand on her leg and give it a reassuring squeeze. I try not to let the panic in her eyes worry me, but the more I think about it, I find myself mimicking her feelings.

This facade is getting out of control, and if we’re not careful, people are going to get hurt and that includes the two of us.

“Diddy?” Isobel repeats. “Who’s Diddy, sweetheart?” she asks Olivia.

She points at Bridget.

“Biddy?” I ask my niece.

She nods. “Yeah, but I like Diddy better.”

Bridget smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and as she pulls away to help Olivia hold Freya, I can feel the shift.

She’s pulling away, and I want nothing more than to pull her back and hold her tight, but deep down I know that she’s trying to make a wall.

She’s trying to keep herself from getting hurt, and I’m starting to think that maybe I need to start doing the same.

bridget

Aunt Diddy.

The name plays on repeat on my head the whole drive back to my place. Elias kept his hand on my thigh—anchoring me to him—as the two of us drove in silence. He was as sweet as ever as he walked me up to my apartment, and when it came to saying goodbye, he kissed my cheek before leaving.

I know he could feel the change in me, but I couldn’t find it in me to apologize for it, because what would I be apologizing for? The fact that this little white lie has caught up to me and that the thought of lying to people makes me sick to my stomach? The two of us knew what we were doing when we created this mess, but I don’t think we really thought it through. Sure, it’s easy to assume you’ll be able to detach feelings but it hasn’t been and I think we can both agree that’s not the case anymore.

I feel it every time I look at him.

The feelings that are growing for him hit me like a tidal wave every damn time his eyes lock with mine—emotions coming at me from every direction and I’m having a hard time trying to stay afloat. He is everything I want in a man, and every time we’re together he makes me feel so safe and wanted.

Not to mention the sex is fucking life changing.

That man’s middle name should be Passion, not just because of the sex, but because he is the most passionate man I’ve ever met. He’s passionate about his friends and family and, most importantly, life. I’ve never met someone who is so positive about everything, and honestly it’s so refreshing. Tom was a pessimist through and through, always so negative about everything and everyone in his life; but not Elias.

That man couldn’t be negative even if he tried.

As I lie on Natalie’s bed, surrounded by piles of laundry, I can’t help but think about him. His presence, his caring nature, and the way he has to be touching me at all times.

That’s one of my favourite things about him—like he can’t get enough of me.

I love the feel of his hands on my lower back, or his fingers brushing against my hand whenever they’re interlocked. He grins so boldly and without a care in the world and it’s the most beautiful sight.

“Stop smiling like that, you lovesick loon,” Natalie grumbles from where’s standing, folding a pair of pants.

I scoff as I prop myself up on my elbows. “I’m not lovesick.”

Natalie looks at me with a look of disbelief.