A CEO's Child

Goods for a Baby

Anissa met up after work with Ven at a hole in the wall tavern, where no one would know his face. The place was the sort of place where people made cheap, delicious food, and were suspicious of the media on the government, and kept prompting Ven to buy more beer based on his belly alone. 

He plopped down wearily, refusing a beer for the third time, instead getting a water and a very, very, very tall Pepsi. A moment later he ordered beef stroganoff and fries. He studied her in avid frustration.

"What's goin' on?" she asked.

"A lot." he said. "A fucking lot. I'm going to go into work the next couple days, to oversee some other big developments, but Marty predicts I have three weeks. Marylin is going to have me on PTO, once I get these projects done." 

She raised her brows. "Three weeks? That's it?"

He downed his Pepsi like it was something much stronger, hiccupped and burped loudly. He shook his head in disbelief.

"Baby's weight is going to be eleven pounds." Ven wouldn't meet her gaze. He looked around the table like he wanted to drink himself silly. "Said I can bank on a hard delivery."

"Fuck," Anissa said, leaning back in surprise. "Can I do anything?"

He rubbed at his face, tracing a long his brow line. "I'm fucking scared. Fuck me."

She took his hands in hers. "What will make you feel better?"

She saw tears forming and he jerked his hands free to swipe them away. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I've got an increased risk of hemorrhaging, broken pelvic bones, and tearing. Really bad tearing. It could damage me as a man too."

Anissa didn't know what to say. What to tell him. This was a new road for him to go down, for them to go down. She'd never had children, she didn't know the risks, and being told wasn't the same as experiencing. 

"Well, what can help reduce those risks?" She began tapping her foot, she was going to have a long chat with her mom tonight. She'd been a bigger baby, but alas a third child. 

"Marty's looking into it for me. Getting advice." Ven's face was so bitter and sad it beyond broke her heart. It was fraying her soul. 

"Ven," she said, reaching for his hands again, but food coming stopped her.  He flicked his fork into the middle, appetite gone. "I will do anything you want me to do. You can do anything you want to do."

He shook his head. "Yeah. Right. Bullshit."

"I mean it. I really do. Seeing Jack lose his independence...I realize what I've been doing wrong."

He frowned. "The fuck does Jack have to do with this too. Why is it always Jack, Jack, Jack?" 

"He and your brother are in the spare bedroom."

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Cool so I can be cooped up with them? Let me guess watch over Jack when I'm off work? Preparing to get torn open alive? While you get to go back to normal life?"

She frowned. "No. Actually not. I'm here for you. I get PTO right now until they figure out what they're going to do with Jack and I. You know we rather just up and left the mission right? Even on the sinking ship? We left our team mates below?"

He shrugged, clearly not worried about her or what she'd done wrong. It put a sour taste in her mouth but she tried to understand. Understand all he was going through, and what he was seeing based on their prior actions. She had cooped him up and he didn't deserve it.