FIFTY-THREE: Birthday Wishes [FLASHBACK]

Celebrating her birthday in Las Vegas had been a long-standing tradition with her ex-husband that had started the year Charity had turned twenty-one and had ended the year they'd lost their son Jaxon in the womb. Everything had gone to absolute hell and the newly turned thirty-eight-year-old woman would have loved to not be in Sin City on the current day as it was her birthday. She'd arrived in the city late the night before and had been so exhausted that none of the familiar sights or sounds had sent her into a fit of nostalgia. No, that had happened when she'd woken up and gone out to the balcony of her hotel room to look over the city. Only a moment passed before a lump formed in her throat and she felt her eyes well up with tears. One hand was white-knuckling the black iron fencing that kept her from falling a few stories to the ground while her other hand rested over her stomach where she carried her ex-husband's baby. She was eleven weeks along and ever since finding out about the impending arrival, she couldn't help but replay that last week they'd spent together at the end of May. Once again, she'd been stupid where Bruce McLeod was concerned.

The sun was just starting to sink over the horizon as she seated herself at the table in the back of the dive bar called Lucky's on the outskirts of Vegas. Her fingernail traced the all-too familiar gouges on the table near the wall, the tiny little B+C still there after all this time – she remembered the first birthday here, giddy and so hopelessly in love and how Bruce had taken out his pocketknife and etched that permanent mark, telling her that this was their special place. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to push aside the heartache those memories brought back. Bruce was supposed to be on his way and the last thing she wanted was to be a teary mess when he showed up. Nervous, she checked her phone, hoping he hadn't decided to cancel but the last message was still there, agreeing to meet. Now, all she had to do was wait and that was the hardest part.

Bruce had been living nearby for the past year and this bar had been such a fixture in his life over that time that he'd become a part owner when the place had almost gone under almost six months ago. He hadn't told Charity that and hadn't thought it was anything worth mentioning until he'd received her text that she was in town. He knew what the day was, and all the memories of the past were weighing heavily on him as he leaned up against the seat of his Harley in the parking lot, smoking a cigarette down to the filter and trying to convince himself that this wasn't a catastrophic mistake. He'd gotten out of New York back in May relatively unscathed, his secret about his complicated new life here in Vegas still hidden away – it helped that the shows for Fear and Loathing weren't televised and were sparsely attended. It was only a matter of time now, especially with her in town, that it was all bound to come unravelled.

He flicked the smoldering filter away with a look of disgust and raked his hand through his silver-shot hair, doing his best to appear somewhat presentable before he made his way to the door. The moment he stepped over the threshold, he felt the chill of the air conditioning, turning the clammy sweat on the back of his neck to ice – he knew he looked like he belonged here in his worn jeans and faded Harley tee but he kept the amber-tinted sunglasses on as he scanned the bar, spotting his ex-wife at one of the few tables near the back. He stopped at the bar, holding up two fingers to the tender who slid him a glass of Jameson and a bottle of beer. He tossed back the liquor, setting the empty down gently before picking up the beer. As much as he wanted to delay here, there was that ingrained desire to go to her, that old attraction pulling him in like a magnet.

Charity had known the moment he'd stepped into the building; she'd always been able to feel it. She'd been focusing on her phone, mindlessly scrolling through social media. When she looked up, she spotted him at the bar and she had the urge to quickly get up and run over to him, throwing her arms around his neck like old times. However, her restraint was strong enough that she just sat in her chair, almost as if her ass was glued to the seat. There was also an urge to throw-up, the kid wasn't even out of the first trimester and already they were wreaking havoc on her body. After she'd sent the text in the morning, a few more hours had been spent on the bathroom floor, puking. Her other two pregnancies hadn't taken a toll on her like this, A hand went to her stomach, as she met her ex-husband's eyes for just a moment before putting her focus on her glass with club soda and lemon. Bringing the glass to her lips, she took a long drink, thinking it might help calm not only her stomach but hopefully her nerves.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charity knew he'd started making his way to her table. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she pasted that model's smile of hers on her face, which didn't reach her eyes. Lifting a hand, she gave him a wave, but didn't stand up. She'd worn a dress hoping to hide the baby bump that had started to form, and it did a great job, but she was still self-conscious. As he arrived, she didn't speak first, instead she let him go.

His own smile was strained, a sort of wariness in his bearing that she didn't remember him ever having before. He'd always been open, even when in one of his darker moods. The beer bottle thumped against the tabletop, and she heard the leather creak as he eased himself into the seat across from her. "Happy birthday," were the first words from his lips, a wry smile there between the goatee and moustache he wore.

"Thank you." Her smile had a warm hint to it, brushing a strand of blonde away, exposing her ear. He could see that she wore the diamond earrings he had gotten her for their first Christmas all those years ago. "I honestly never thought I'd see this place again. Surprised it's still standing." Her hands were resting in her lap and more than anything she wanted to reach out and touch him. "Thanks for coming, though… I won't keep you all night, I promise."

The bottle found its way to his lips, a rough chuckle coming out on the heels of that swallow, and he inclined his head. "It's got good bones." He tapped his knuckles against the tabletop. "Helps that the Sons of Odin hang here. Free security. Most of the fellas are reputable." The words came out naturally enough, not really a brag but she could hear the pride in his voice even though he wasn't taking ownership of the cause for its continued prosperity. "You look good, Cherry. Right sight for sore eyes."

Her cheeks reddened as her model's smile was replaced with an embarrassed one. "You're sweet." Her hand came up once more to brush her hair to the side of her neck. "I'm sorry I just texted you out of the blue. I know it's been kinda weird and I—"

"Should've called," he cut her off, shaking his head. The guilt was there, the shame making his face feel hot because they both knew he hadn't planned to. It was easier to leave, and he'd made a habit of running, after all.

"How's the shoulder?"

He chuckled, not bothering to tell her that he was still taping it up before matches. She didn't need to know about every weakness. "Didn't come all this way tae check on that, did you?"

She bowed her head, looking sheepishly down at the table. "We haven't really talked since Sam graduated and there are things that we maybe need to talk about?" She wanted to chicken out of telling him about the baby, but knew she couldn't.

He nodded, thinking she was talking about how easily they'd fallen into bed with each other – it was bound to happen, though. She'd always been that addiction he couldn't shake. "Mebbe so." He let that hang for a moment before picking at the edge of the beer label with his thumbnail. "How's our wee possum? Ready tae flee the nest?"

"Yes," she said, with a laugh. "She's been out to Orlando a few times and is definitely ready to get away from me." Another laugh came out, this one was tinged with the hint of sadness. "She and I have been butting heads lately."

"Wonder where she's gotten that willful streak from?" The joke was an old one and it came out before he could check it, chuckling ruefully the moment the words were out.

She couldn't help but laugh at his question. "Oh, there's no denying that you gave it to her." She raised an eyebrow, smirk forming. "I've never been willful in my life." Well, if that wasn't the biggest load of bullshit either one of them had heard. "As it is, with her gone, I'm not sure there's much of anything keeping me back home." She hadn't planned on opening up to him, but he always had that way of making her feel at ease.

Intrigued, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "So, what's next, hmm? Travel the world? Dip toes in all the world's oceans?"

Here it was, a perfect segway into the topic of the baby. She couldn't do it yet, just being with him, even if it was for a short time, was what she wanted. The ache to have him back home had never gone away, instead it lingered, for so long that she didn't even notice it. That was until it disappeared the moment she saw him. "I'm not sure. I thought about Los Angeles, but I just don't think it's the right time. Not yet anyway."

"California's too…" he shrugged, shaking his head as he made a rude noise, reaching for his beer. "Too much plastic, not enough heat tae melt it all an' be done with it."

"Yeah, but a perfect place to keep modeling." Looking up, she favored her ex-husband with a sad smile. "I need to find out where I fit in. You've got Vegas, Sam's loving Orlando, and… I just haven't found my place, yanno?"

"No sure I'd call this 'my place'," he glanced around the bar, trying to push aside the comment. It had never felt like home here – he knew that was because of the woman sitting across from him more than anything else.

"Well, you seem settled, anyhow." Her hand came and brushed her blonde hair so that it rested over her left shoulder, against her chest. "I don't have that and… I need to find it. Move on, I guess? Say goodbye to old ghosts."

"Aye." Nodding, he took another swallow of his drink, "would be nice, clear out all the ol' bric-a-brac cluttering up the attic, hmm?" He tapped the side of his head for emphasis, "fear that'll never happen for me. Tried tae drown 'em. They learned to swim. Resilient little shits."

"Ain't that the truth…" She felt so stupid and clumsy, at least her words were. She needed to just rip off the band-aid, but those words refused to come out. "Who knows, though? Maybe I'll find my purpose." She knew that, at least for the next eighteen years, she was going to be raising another little person. "The world is an oyster and all that." Her hand came up and rested over her stomach. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I?"

He shrugged but there was a flicker of something in his expression before he looked down at the table, his thumbnail back to picking at the edge of the Budweiser label on the bottle. "Nothing pressing, no." He flashed a bitter smile, his eyes lifted to meet hers again, "am all yours tonight. Long as ye need."

Charity's cheeks flushed as she played with her hair a bit. "How many times have we been in this exact situation?" The question was followed with a laugh. "It's a road we tend to find ourselves driving down often." Both hands came up and wrapped around her glass. "I'm not in town long, just a day or two."

Bruce nodded, unable to keep his mind from flashing back on their last nights together, all the promises their bodies had made while he'd kept the words locked inside. "Comfortable…" he murmured, catching himself before he said more and instead forced himself to focus on the last thing she'd said. "Only a day or two, hmm? Jus' a quick in and out, then." The double meaning was intended, brought on by those memories and the scent of her perfume and this time his smile was more of that lecherous smirk she knew all too well.

"Something like that." She couldn't help but smile at what he said as she shook her head. "There's some business that I have to take care of." She knew that she needed to tell him about the baby and needed to do it sooner. She just couldn't, though. Being there in the bar, on her birthday, with the only man she'd ever loved was just too overpowering. "I suppose, if you wanted, I could make time to spend with you. If you want, that is."

"I'd like that." The words slipped out before he could second guess them. "Do you wanna stay here? Have a couple rounds to celebrate another trip around the sun? Might be able tae rustle up a candle… have you blow it out for some birthday wishes?"

Charity hesitated for a few moments, before going against her better judgement. "I'd like that, but I'm going to stick with water. Not in a drinking mood tonight." She managed a smile. "But you get whatever you want."

It wasn't all that odd for her to choose sobriety – she'd tended towards that a lot more after they'd lost their son and she'd started taking medication for her depression in the aftermath. He hated the guilt that kept welling up, reminding him of how much of a selfish asshole he'd become as he pushed the nearly empty beer towards the edge of the table. He wasn't as strong. He still needed that crutch because it felt like the only barrier keeping him sane. Grace didn't really seem to mind, as long as he wasn't staggering and stumbling. Spending his nights here gave him an excuse. Couldn't really manage a bar without testing the wares, after all. He broke the silence, realizing he'd let it lapse a bit too long. 

"There's a room upstairs. The Sons use it for meetings an' the like but it's quieter. More private?" He inclined his head towards the back of the bar and the hallway that led to the restrooms. "Shall we take this elsewhere?"

Before she verbally answered, her head was nodding in agreement. "Yes," she said as she slipped out of her chair, smoothing her dress. There was no mystery as to what would happen once they were alone and at this moment, she wanted it more than anything. She told herself that if she just got one more night with him, it would be enough to hold onto for the rest of her life. It was a big mistake, but she couldn't bring herself to turn him down. As she stood next to the table, her hand extended to him. "Take me upstairs."

Moving to his feet, he reached out and took her hand. It still felt like it belonged to him as their fingers entwined and then he was leading her through the smoky gloom towards the back hallway. They passed the doors marked with those archaic silhouettes of a man and a woman and then he turned into the shadows, not bothering with the switch on the wall to illuminate the staircase. "Just a bit further now," he murmured, "watch your step." 

At the top of the landing, he pulled her in close, his lips grazing her cheek as he hugged her tight. "Gods, I've missed you." 

She pulled away, turning instead towards the warm glow of light and when she pushed through the door that was partly open, she found herself in the room he'd told her about. "It's cozy up here." The words came out casually but internally she felt like a ball of nerves and it didn't help that her stomach was tossing and turning. The last thing she wanted to do was throw up, but she felt like she might. Her smile was thin, nervous as she sat down on the leather sofa, kicking off the heels she had on before tucking her feet up under her the way she always had when she was younger. She looked so young in this light, so vulnerable. 

Bruce leaned against the door after shutting it, muting the noise of the bar to a dull roar. "There," he mumbled, "much easier tae hear ourselves think." 

"I was thinking… that maybe we could talk? About that weekend?"

Obviously there had been some sound proofing done up here and if she hadn't known better, she could have mistaken it for a small bachelor pad with the quaint little living room and kitchenette tucked away into the corner. There was a set of double doors that were closed, inscribed with the raven logo of the Sons of Odin that she could only assume was their private meeting space. Clearing his throat, he moved closer to where she sat but didn't join her. He could still feel the warmth of her hand in his, could feel the things that it had done to him – even the simplest touch was still enough to get under his skin and like an addict, he wanted more. "Talk?" He finally addressed what she'd said, a rough laugh slipping out as he shook his head, "about what?"

"That weekend. I mean, you and I got kind of serious." She didn't know how else to describe it. Countless times they'd been down this exact path, and it always broke her heart. Her focus needed to be on the baby and telling Bruce about it. "How do you feel about that?"

That old familiar smirk crossed his lips, "wouldn't be here now if I weren't feelin' some sorta way, luv." He shrugged and crossed the room, going to a small fridge in the corner. He knelt and rummaged inside, coming up with two cans of ginger ale among all the beer inside. Something told him this conversation was going to require a clear head. With those in hand, he finally joined her on the couch, setting both cans down on the table in front of them.

Charity hadn't even realized that she'd been holding her breath until he sat down. "And what kind of way is that?" She tried convincing herself that this was how to gage his reaction.

For a moment, he wanted to tell her everything, the whole truth laid bare, but he knew that would gut her. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her all over again. "Conflicted?" He settled on a half-truth, reaching out for one of the soda cans. He cracked it open, taking a drink simply so he could stall, trying to read her intentions in her body language because he knew her well enough to know there was something more than this ancient little dance of theirs on her mind. It was easier to lapse into the dark sarcasm that had been his constant companion for the last few years. "What'm I supposed to say, hmm? Prostrate myself at your feet an' beg for another go?"

His sarcasm made her wince, but she shook her head. Her model's smile had returned. "If that was something you actually wanted, or if I was for that matter– you would have already done it." The conversation was getting away from her and she needed to reel it in. "I'm not here to try to get you back, Bruce… but there is something we need to talk about… Or rather something I need to tell you."

That caustic smile dropped off his face, replaced with narrowed eyes as he leaned towards her, "let's not make assumptions, Cherry. I got the text you were in town… and I showed up. If I wanted to cut ties, I'd have changed my number a long time ago."

Her eyes narrowed right back at him. "So, are you saying you want to give this another chance? You and I?" Again, she wasn't trying to get back together with him.

"Would that be so bad?" He chuckled and took another sip of that soda, his eyes never leaving hers.

"You tell me." She didn't bother getting the ginger ale, instead she kept her focus on him. "All the times I tried to get us to try again, you just kinda disappear on me "

She wasn't wrong. He'd gotten quite skilled at the vanishing act over the last few years, to the point where he'd destroyed everything he'd ever truly cared about. It was only now that he'd finally been given a second chance, that he could see the mess he'd made of things. "Mebbe wasn't the wisest choice, but it was for the best. Wasn't gonna do either of us any favours to fall back into those toxic patterns. A little distance, a little time…" he trailed off, shaking his head. The last thing he wanted to do was tear those newly-healed wounds of his open all over again. "Am not the same man I was then, Cherry."

"And now?" She stared at him, her heart beating like a jackhammer against her chest. Could this actually be happening? Could they be getting back together? "Has there been enough time? Enough distance?"

His gaze was locked on hers, that ache in his chest almost too much to bear. He cared about Grace, had doted on her for the last year until she'd come out of her shell, but Charity was his first and the feelings for her hadn't diminished over time. They were complicated, twisted up with the worst and the best memories but here, it was easy enough to swallow the heartache and focus on the good things they'd had for years before it had all come crashing down. "Still love you." He murmured, finally breaking the silence. "More than anything."

"I'm pregnant," she blurted the words out, staring at him. "Eleven weeks."

He stared at her for what seemed like forever, trying to wrap his head around the news and it felt like all the air in the room had been sucked out into space – it was a vacuum, and he couldn't find words to utter, couldn't even bring himself to shatter that perfect and infinite silence. He could hear the soda in the can fizzing, the muffled thump of the bass in the music playing downstairs and beyond that, his pulse racing. What was he going to do with this mess? He couldn't help himself as he reached out for her hand, grasping it with both of his as though it was a lifeline. "Cherry…"

"Yeah." She nodded as she stood up, answering the unspoken question in his eyes, "it's yours." Her other hand rested on top of his. She didn't realize until she stood up that she was shaking. "I couldn't tell you over the phone, it had to be in person." Her eyes shimmered with tears that then streamed down her face. "I haven't known for long."

Bruce moved to his feet, pulling her into his embrace like he had thousands of times before. "Shhh," he murmured, running his hands down her back, feeling her trembling as though she was going to fall apart, "am here, Babylove. No need tae cry."

She held onto him as her life depended on it, her face buried against his shoulder, tears soaking his shirt. "I haven't told anyone else. I couldn't, until you knew." She pulled back so that she could look at his face. "I love you so much."

There were no words and even if he could have found something to say, the sound would have gotten caught behind the lump of emotion in his throat. Instead, he lifted his hand up, his palm cupping her cheek as his thumb wiped away the tears and then he was kissing her, everything he felt going into that desperate press of his lips against hers – nothing else mattered in that moment. Not the situation with Grace or the hundreds of times that he'd courted death since he'd walked out of her life or the distance that had yawned between them for far too long. None of that mattered because the universe had seen fit to give him a second chance to make it right.