Once upon a time, I was clearer about that response. About everything I wanted out of my life and the people I included in it. Sean and I were young when we met but not so giddy and silly that we didn’t recognize the good thing we had. Needless to say, we didn’t date long before deciding—to our parents’ dismay—to get married and move to California. I couldn’t remember my life without him because I’d never been an adult without him in the landscape. And yes, that vista included dreams of starting our own family. I’d lie awake night after night, thinking about having a baby of my own. About rocking my own child, sweet and perfect, in my arms. It would be a chance to get things right in my life. To find the piece of me that was inexplicably missing. Becoming a mother would complete me; I’d been so sure of it.
On most days, as much as I had once wanted it, I was thankful that Sean and I never had a child. I could eventually figure out how to pick up the pieces of my broken heart—my broken life—and get on with it all. I would figure all that out. I had to believe that. But if I had a child with the man, too? Had to look into a child’s face that looked just like his father’s, day in and day out? I don’t think my already precarious mental health could endure cruelty that severe.
Now, I didn’t even know the person who stared back at me from the mirror. I barely knew what food I wanted to eat or what music I enjoyed listening to. Everything I once loved was entwined with bitter memories that used to be sweet. Old dates that used to hold special meanings now just held hollow ghosts. Nothing seemed pristine anymore.
Was I acting melodramatic? Maybe. But being a widow was still a fairly new status for me. And so far, I was really sucking at it. I had no idea how to view the things in my old world with these new eyes. Because while things were theoretically the same, they were completely different, too.
Trying to explain that to the people around me was harder than I imagined, but now that I’d joined the online support group, I was hoping to get some tips on navigating my new existence. One way or the other, though, I had to get my shit together.
I didn’t even know how to enjoy myself…myself.
Step one seemed pretty obvious, though. I had to find joy in living again. I could do it—and, with help, I would. Just not right this second. Especially not as Grant’s voice gained volume when he came toward the back of the boat again. From what I could make out, he was wrapping up his phone call with a lot of good wishes for both Sebastian and Abbigail, and the stabbing ache was back. Right in the center of my chest.
Damn it.
But what was this damn feeling if not jealousy? Something close to anger was dancing right on the fringe of my temperament, but that didn’t make sense. Why would I be angry with Abbigail for safely and successfully delivering her son? I truly wanted nothing but the best for my sister-in-law. While I could openly admit that previously I’d had difficulty staying positive about her pregnancy, so many of those issues were no longer active or valid. Not with Sean gone. Especially not with the time I’d been gifted to start really looking at my issues.
The remarkable gift…possible because of my towering, golden-haired benefactor, now striding back into view on the deck. He was still on the phone, head bent low and shoulders bunched with more than a touch of tension. I didn’t have any trouble hearing his dialogue now.
“Look, Bas. You know you’re my best friend. My brother. I couldn’t be happier for you right now, and a large part of me wishes I had been there for your son’s arrival.” Grant finished it by pinching the bridge of his nose, which I could only assume was in frustration. He looked up to find me cautiously watching, though I desperately tried to eke out an encouraging smile instead. Without acknowledging me, he turned and shuffled a couple feet away to the railing.
And why did that sting so much?
“No, I’m not telling you where we are, and I won’t sell her out, either. I’m not admitting to something that just isn’t true. No matter what damn day of the year it is.” Grant shook his head, funneling that vehemence into his next words at the asshole who couldn’t see him. “God, you’re a fucking piece of work, you know that?” He took a calming breath and said, “Go be with your new family, Sebastian. I’ll call you in a couple of days. Please give Abbigail my best. I’ll have Rio call once Abbi and the baby have had a chance to rest.”
With that, my handsome white knight ended the call. After pivoting to set his phone down on the deck chair where we had first set our towels, he paused again, his head hung low, chin tucked tightly to his chest. He was in the same spot for so long, I thought he might be having second thoughts about rejoining me, but he finally turned and walked back over.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He got it out on another heavy breath.
“You okay?” I said gently. “We can just go back to the cabin, if you’d rather? I’ll scratch your head?” Clearly, the time he’d endured on the phone had ramped his stress to a level I hadn’t seen in days. No, forget stressed. He sounded exhausted.
“Nah, Blaze. Let’s stay out here.”
I nodded, hoping the fresh air, night sky, and easy companionship would be of some help. My heart panged as I held his hand tight while we got back into the water together. Just two hours ago, he’d been virile and exuberant, the gorgeously perfect picture of living and loving life. I had finally been feeling like returning to Los Angeles would be manageable instead of insurmountable. As with all things alongside this incredible man, it seemed like getting through daily life would be possible again. He seemed to be excited about it too—until Sebastian’s call shattered our happy reverie.
“So, as you can probably guess, Kaisan arrived earlier today.” Grant’s announcement was quiet, accompanied by a genuine smile, after he settled into the water and allowed a bank of jets to pummel his back. “Congratulations, by the way, Auntie.”
I was equally sincere about my soft laugh as he pulled my buoyant body closer until I straddled his lap in the corner of the spa. I released a blissful sigh, forgetting all about his standoffish move from a few minutes ago. It wasn’t hard, once I was surrounded in the muscled magic of his embrace, the perfect strength of his nearness. I reveled in the view of his serene expression, betraying he’d fallen prey to the same effect from me. Yeah, this was addicting…and yeah, I was damn sure I didn’t care. Not right now. We had come to need each other’s physical touch more and more with each passing day—though I was fairly certain my dependency outweighed his. His presence was like a balm for my aching heart and soul, especially during my darkest and most dismal hours. I wasn’t going to give it up until he told me I had to.
A bank of jets pummeled Grant’s back from every angle where we were situated in the deepest water.
“Christ, this feels good,” he preached to the nighttime sky with an extended groan. I simply stared, fantasizing about nibbling his Adam’s apple, where it protruded from his extended throat.
“What’s going to happen when we get back? That phone call didn’t sound like running away made any of my problems disappear.” When Grant brought his face level with mine, I berated myself for continuing on this topic. Knowing the deep furrows of stress that etched his beautiful face were because of me shattered my heart.