He nods. “Let’s keep the cartoon names to our animals.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dallas
I remember the day I told Maven that Lucy had died.
I sat her down and broke the news, and she didn’t take it well. For weeks, she cried and lashed out. Trying to explain death to a six-year-old isn’t easy. All I could tell her was that Mommy had gone to heaven, but she took that as Mommy had left because she was mad at her. We went to counseling with our preacher. I stayed at home for days, built pillow forts, and had tea parties with stuffed animals.
Telling her about losing one of the babies terrified me, thinking that she’d revert to that sadness. We’d lost too many people. Gone through too much hell. Maven had started suggesting names from her favorite books. Everyone we passed on the street, at the grocery store, at her preschool had heard her boast and brag about how she was going to be a big sister.
I took advice from my family and set her down last night. As badly as I wanted Willow at my side, she’d been through enough. Maven cried but is more understanding of death now. She said her mommy was taking care of the baby in heaven.
It’s been a week since I asked Willow to move in. She hasn’t brought it up again, and I know what I need to do before she does. And today of all days is when I decide I have to do something that will hurt me.
I didn’t want to get out of bed today, but I had to pull my shit together and do it.
Today is a day I used to celebrate. Now, it’s a day of darkness. My mom offered to watch Maven before I even told her my plans.
I take the drive I haven’t made in a few weeks. I haven’t told her the news, I’ve been afraid to tell her, but I can’t be anymore.
I sit down in front of her gravestone and place the pink tulips, her favorite flower, in front of it.
“Hey, Lucy-Pie,” I whisper. “Happy birthday.” I chuckle, sitting back. “Big thirty-two.”
I sigh. “I know I haven’t been here in a while. I’m sorry. And I know you like me to be honest, so that’s what I’m going to give you. I’ve been consumed with guilt, feeling like a trader, a bad husband, like you’d be disappointed in me. It was a dumbass thought because I know your heart. You’d probably want to slap me right now and tell me to get it together. You’d lead the way for me when I didn’t know which way to turn. Tough love is what you called it.”
My eyes water. “I’m having a baby. We were supposed to have two, but we lost one. It was like going through hell again. Maven wants you to watch over her baby brother or sister. Can you do that for us?”
The sun beats down on me, and a tear falls down my cheek. “I lost the baby like I lost you, and I was so mad. So damn mad. I felt sorry for myself. I was pissed at everyone … at everything. But my anger and fear is only going to make me keep losing people.”
I sigh and slip my wedding ring off my finger. I stare at it one last time before digging a small hole in the dirt with my fingers. My hands shake while I bury it next to the tulips. “I realize now why you made me promise. I had no problem promising to be a good father, and that’s what I’ll do to both of my children. I reluctantly promised to find love again, and I hope you’ll be proud of me when I say I have.” I tell her about Willow, about our babies, about how excited Maven is to become a big sister.
I wipe my nose. “And, while you’re up there, will you give our baby a hug for us?”
I won’t forget about Lucy.
I won’t try to replace her.
But I will let myself move on.
Chapter Forty
Willow
It’s been a month since we lost the baby.
A long and gruesome month.
There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t gone over the things I should’ve done differently to stop the miscarriage from happening. I’ve read article after article and talked to Aidan about it at every appointment.
So, I’ve been doing everything I can to take it easy, attempting to stay on bed rest, like the doctor suggested, but I’m going stir-crazy.
The uncertainty of another miscarriage has been the only thing on my mind.
Dallas hasn’t brought up his offer for me to move in with him. I don’t know if it’s been retracted or if he’s scared of the rejection.
Stella insisted I do most of my work from home, and when I do visit her on set, she practically caters to me like I’m her boss. Lauren stops by before every shift. Rory and my mom regularly check in with me, and Dallas and Maven are here nearly every day.
Lauren is right. Having a good support system helps.
I sit on the couch and stare at the doorway to the nursery. Something I do every day. I haven’t been back in it since I lost the baby. Dallas keeps asking if he can put the crib together or start painting, but I can’t bring myself to say yes.
It’s not that I don’t want this baby to have a nice nursery.
It’s that I’m terrified I might lose this baby, too.
The front door opens, and Maven comes running into the living room. Dallas is behind her with a bag of takeout.
Her smile beams when it lands on me. “Can I ask her now, Daddy? Can I pleeease ask her now? I can’t wait any longer!”
I tried to stop it, Dallas mouths to me.
She plops down next to me on the couch, and I play with her hair.
“Ask me what?”
“Um …” She opens her mouth but chickens out and slams it shut.
Well, that’s new.
She whips around to look at Dallas. “Will you do it for me, Daddy? You say it much better.”
He slowly nods, and I know what he’s about to ask isn’t going to be easy on me.
“Maven will be starting kindergarten soon. Tomorrow is Parents’ Night.”
“Will you please come with me?” Maven chimes in. Her spunk is back. “Pretty, pretty please? It’ll be so, so much fun. They’ll have snacks, and you get to meet my teacher! I’m going to big-kid school!”
I don’t know if Maven told him she’d asked me to be her new mommy, but he hasn’t mentioned it. And I don’t plan to tell him. That’s a secret between the two of us.
Dallas leans back against the wall and fights a smile on his lips. “There was no way I was going to stop her from asking you. You know she doesn’t take no for an answer very well. Plus, I could use the company.”
“Please,” Maven continues to plead. “Everyone else is going to have their mommy there.”
The air leaves the room.
“Maven,” Dallas says, his voice almost sounding shaky, “you know Willow isn’t your mom.”
“I know, but she’d be a good second mommy.” She closes her eyes in sadness. “She doesn’t even have to be my new mommy. I just want her there, so I won’t feel left out.”
Dallas rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting all that.”
I wave off his answer, seeing the hurt on Maven’s face, recognition hitting me. I was the girl without a father at everything. I understand her hurt, the pain she’s going through.