Fortuity

Chapter 30

This is the last chapter and then I'm making a sequel.

Enjoy!

I'm freaking out.

After a few weeks, Delaney got discharged from the hospital, so life went back to normal. The Tropical Storm passed, and we all went back to normal.

Meaning we spent a lot of time in the house.

By house, I mean the Yacht.

And I love the yacht.

I worship the yacht.

But Emily has been six for two weeks, throwing up all through the night, crying, and I've been dizzy and nauseous and throwing up on and off throughout the day.

I don't like living on the yacht.

"Tyler, I can't stay here anymore." I say, trying to get Emily to eat some baby food. She's five months now, and she's not happy.

"What do you mean?" he asks, making dinner.

"I mean I can't sit here and fucking...fucking live. Not on this boat. It's make for...for luxuries. I need solid ground. I need a house."

We've been bitching at each other a lot because we're both stressed and I've not been feeling well.

"Well, I can't give you everything. I can't do everything, Carmen!"

"You think I'm not aware of that?" I ask, angry. "I don't like living on a ground that's constantly moving."

"Carmen, I'm doing everything I can." He says, slamming the knife of the counter. "You need to appreciate."

"Right." I pick up Emily. "Like this is my fault."

"I didn't say this is your fault!" he snaps.

"Well you're sure as hell acting like it!"

I storm out of the kitchen.

"Dammit Carmen!" he yells after me.

I'm so sick of him getting so pissy. He doesn't even try to look for a fucking house.

I grab the keys to the Range Rover, ditching my cellphone on the bed.

I grab my wallet and leave, carrying Emily on my hip.

I walk down the ramp, to our ashes we used to call home, and I get in the Range Rover after buckling Emily in, and I leave.

Pissed off, I drive around for a while, not surprised when I shut the car off in Delaney's driveway.

Shrugging, I get out, unbuckling Emily and bringing her with me.

I feel like I'm going to throw up.

I walk into the kitchen.

"Hey." Blake says. Silently, I thrust my child at him, she's screaming and we're only a diaper.

I walk into the bathroom off of the kitchen, the same bathroom Delaney is brushing her teeth in, and I puke.

"The fuck?" Del asks.

I moan. "I can't stop." I say, throwing up until I'm dry heaving.

When it finally stops, I flush, opening the package of unused toothbrushes, scrubbing my teeth until my gums bleed.

I leave the tootbrush in the cup, drying my mouth on my hand, and then walking back into the kitchen, taking my screaming five month old from Blake.