I'd had enough of Abigail's stubbornness. After our last talk -- attempt at a talk -- she'd shut me down hard and mentioned finding another man, one who would help raise Griffin and give her other babies.
Yeah, no. Not just no, but hell to the no. Abigail was mine, despite the abysmal job I'd done showing her that before.
She wouldn't listen to me at her house. Any time I tried to explain things, she threatened me with making things legal where Griff's visitation and access was concerned, which meant my access to her would also be curtailed. I'd been patient. Understanding. Unwilling to spook her. Walking on eggshells to keep her calm.
Time to put on the shit-kickers and stomp around, showing her I was done with the nice guy routine.
Griff had a little rash on his belly that we didn't like the look of, so I figured that would be the perfect time for what I was planning.
After strapping Griff safely into his car seat, I helped Abigail into the seat beside him. I drove my family to the doctor, we listened as the doctor explained the things we could do for the no-big-deal rash, then we put Griff back into the car. He was sound asleep, apparently worn out from the ordeal. He'd also just eaten while we were waiting for the doctor and had a clean diaper. All very good things for what was about to go down.
"He's sleeping," I told Abigail, "so why don't you sit in the front seat? He'll be out until we get home."
She was torn, I could tell, but eventually allowed me to help her into the front seat.
Perfect.
When I missed the turn that would take us home, Abigail shot me a look. "You know you just --"
"Thought we'd take a little drive," I told her and then made two turns that took us onto the highway. I pressed down on the accelerator to merge with the speeding traffic while Abigail tried to work out where we were going.
"So I thought since it's so nice out today, we could drive around and talk about some things."
"We have nothing to talk about." I'd expected nothing less from her. Abigail was nothing if not consistent in her refusal to talk.
"Well, that's fine because lately, you've been doing all the talking and I've been doing all the listening. Now you can listen while I talk."
"I don't want to listen to you," she snapped. In the back of my mind was the thought that we were going to be in trouble if Griff was this stubborn. But maybe stubborn like mom was better than clueless asshole like dad.
"Too bad," I snapped back at her, "because I have a full tank of gas and nowhere to be. So you're going to be listening even if I have to drive us through five different states."
"I said I don't want to listen to anything you have to say," she gritted out through clenched teeth, unable to get loud because of our boy quietly snoozing in the back seat. She also couldn't hit me because I was driving and she wouldn't risk our son, so I didn't have to worry about Abigail hurting herself if she tried to attack me.
"Well, you're going to listen anyway. So I suggest you give in to the inevitable and enjoy both the drive and the conversation we're about to have."
"This is...this is...this is kidnapping," she hissed at me, so angry she could barely choke out her words as rage vibes shot off her like invisible flames.
I shook my head. "You got into the car with me willingly, and you're free to get out any time you want."
Her mouth hung open. "You're going seventy miles an hour down the highway!"
