I hung up and slammed the phone down on the seat beside me. Maybe he was just going far, far away with the decoy lady. Maybe he had his phone off so it couldn’t be traced. That sounded stupid, even in my panic. And when I had called, it had rung instead of going straight to voicemail, so it must be on.
I spent the ride home staring out the window, my body locked into one position so that I wouldn’t fly apart. The roiling panic that pounded in my chest and stomach and neck was battled solely by my determination to breathe in and then breathe out and then breathe in again. My head ached. They’d only given me Tylenol since anything stronger wouldn’t be good for my milk supply, so my skull continued to throb, scattering my thoughts and stoking my anger.
We pulled up in front of the house and I tried to get Joanie’s car seat out with stiff fingers.
“Let me,” Nick said. “I’ll take her in. You go ahead.”
I did. I walked carefully to the front door, my neck aching, my head pounding away dully. I walked in the front door to utter quiet. And the first thing that caught my eye was the empty space on the other side of the living room where Sean’s guitar usually sat. It was gone. Even the stand was gone. It shouldn’t have been gone. My fear surged up and I had to admit the obvious. If he’d planned to be away from me for only a little while, he would have written me a note. Or texted me. Or sent a message through Nick. Or at least told his guys to keep me informed. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t.
My breathing was shallow, my steps echoing on the entry floor tiles. They were slow. They were scared. They were heartbroken.
Everything was clean and in its place, just as beautiful as it had always been, but it felt different. It felt wrong. I folded my arms across my chest, trying to hold myself together as I walked on stiff legs to the back door and crossed the lawn to the guest house.
I didn’t knock. I didn’t even bother calling out when I went inside. Because I already knew. Before I saw the empty counters, before I saw the too-clean living area. I knew he wouldn’t be there. Even before I saw the note.
It was a sheet of his notebook paper, the one he used to scribble lyrics. It sat in the middle of the coffee table, centered exactly—the house key I had given him sitting right beside it.
I closed my eyes, tears slipping silently past my lashes and down to my chin. Then I slowly forced one foot in front of the other and circled the couch, sitting down in front of that sheet of paper before picking it up with trembling hands, hoping it would tell me he was coming back. Hoping this note wasn’t what I suspected it was.
A Song for Libby was scrawled across the top. The words were scribbled, written quickly, maybe even furiously. There were cross-outs and redos. It was a mess, but it was for me.
Because I loved you better
Because I love you more
Because I can’t live up
To all you need me for
Because I couldn’t live
If you were ever gone
I have to leave my Libby
With nothing but a song
Love means more than taking
Devotion can’t ring true
If my own heart aching
Leads to pain for you
I hurt my shining muse
I hurt my brightest star
I hurt my little Joanie
By being in that car
Sweet Libby, please forgive me
Shine bright, my star, shine on
My hope for absolution
Is a pained goodbye from Sean
I let the paper slip from my numb fingers, unsurprised but utterly betrayed.
I broke down sobbing, my hands pressed to my eyes as I stood alone in that guest house that I had hoped would only be a temporary place for Sean to stay before we were able to knit our lives together under one roof, with one last name.
The pain of it made me double over, my hand reaching out for the arm of the couch to keep myself upright. The pounding in my head came back, the Tylenol not enough to dull the pain under normal circumstances, much less in this moment when I felt like the world was collapsing in on me. I sank to the ground, leaning my shoulder into the front of the couch as my energy drained and I slowly went numb.
I sat there, limp, for a long time. Long enough that I started to wonder if Joanie would need me soon, but I decided that Nick would be smart enough to come find me if she woke up howling. A bitter laugh burst from my lips. Nick the bodyguard/babysitter. I would need to start paying him more. How much did he get paid anyway? And would Sean keep paying Nick to do his job if he was gone? Would I even need protection anymore? Now that Sean had left me…
Sean had left me.
I was alone. Again. I blinked slowly, my face almost numb to the sensation of silent tears pouring down it. Even knowing it was coming. Even though I’d suspected the worst and tried to prepare for it, I wasn’t. I was not prepared for this. I shouldn’t have had to be prepared for this.
Eventually my hurt coiled into anger and I pulled out my phone and snapped a photo of the paper lying on the floor. Then I sent it to Sean in a text with the words, After everything we’ve been through, this is how you choose to go? Coward!
He was a coward, and I was calling him on it. I understood the impulse to protect me by leaving. I just always thought he would know better than to follow it.
I stared at the screen. Willing the three little dots to appear.
They didn’t.
♪♫♪
I hardly slept that night. My entire body ached. A horrid concoction of pain from the accident, from being strapped to that backboard, from the crying. Everything hurt. But I think my heart had taken the worst beating. I wanted to keep Joanie in bed with me so I wouldn’t feel so alone, but I was afraid my tossing and turning would keep her awake, or end up smothering her. So instead I pulled her bassinet right next to my bed so that I could reach over and rest my hand on her tiny frame whenever the darkness welled up inside, threatening to pull me under.
I kept having flashbacks of those first nights without Jonas, when there was nothing but loneliness to warm my bed.
It ached.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
I must have fallen into an exhausted sleep after Joanie’s four AM feeding. When I woke up, the sunlight filtering through the windows was much brighter than usual, leaving me confused. I reached out a hand to touch Joanie, but my fingers met with empty blankets.
I sat up, fear washing through me.
“I’ve got her. She’s okay.”
My head turned automatically toward the voice and I found Naomi sitting in the glider in the corner of my room.
I blinked hard, letting my heart go back to its normal rhythm.
“Sorry I scared you,” she said with a sad smile that was nearly a grimace.
“Nae,” I breathed. “What are you doing here?”
Her eyes got even sadder. “Sean arranged for me to come.”
My brow furrowed as I tried to make her words fit, then I put a hand to my head. It still hurt.
“You have a pretty impressive bruise,” Naomi commented. “What’s under the bandage?”
I ignored the observation. I didn’t want to talk about my head. “Sean sent you?”
She nodded.