Would I have a wedding? I’ve dreamed about and planned my wedding for years. Small and intimate. Whimsical but not over the top. We’d have the ceremony in the church and an outdoor reception at the family farm, with big white tents set up and our horses grazing in the background.
I get into the shower and sink down, letting the warm water wash over me. I thought about my wedding a lot before Jake died. We’d been together almost two years. I assumed a proposal was in the making. Jake was a practical person, thoughtful but not exactly romantic. Still, I did quite a bit of pinning on Pinterest, and my dream wedding is still in the back of my mind.
I cover my mouth with my hands, muffling a sob. I don’t want to wake Chase up. The image of his face flashes before me, and my heart lurches in my chest. As hard as I try not to compare Jake to Chase, I can’t help but feel the difference between the two. Everything with Jake was logical and calculated. Our relationship made sense, the sex was good, and we got along in most aspects. There is no doubt in my mind that we didn’t love each other with all our hearts.
But Chase…I love him with all of my heart and every piece of my soul. Chase is unpredictable. Wild. Dangerous. There’s no logical reason for us to be together.
And yet we are.
I close my eyes and lean into the water, feeling it drip down my face. Having a baby with Chase right now would be terrible timing. Sometimes the most terrible things are the most beautiful.
A shudder goes through me and I mourn more than the loss of the little life I had inside me. I mourn the loss of what could have been. The unconventional start to a family. The awkward family dinners and even the judgmental stares from people as we walk through town, pushing our baby in a stroller as we walk.
I feel like my body betrayed me and wasn’t enough. I know what the doctor said—and what Chase reminded me—but it does little to comfort me. No, this pregnancy wasn’t planned, but it doesn’t make losing it any easier.
When my fingers start to get wrinkly, I get up and wash myself, and then get out and dressed. I feed the cats and take an Advil for the pain. My cycles have never been regular. Ever. I’ll go weeks without a period and then get hit with a horrible heavy one, getting practically bedridden from pain. Then the next will be twenty-eight days later and super light. I started taking birth control as a teen to regulate my cycle and to deal with the pain. I pour myself another glass of wine and down it, and then get back into bed with Chase.
“Hey, babe,” he says sleepily. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I say, being completely honest. “Physically, I’m fine.”
“What about emotionally?” Chase pushes himself up. His hair is messy and there are pillow creases on his cheek. I’m so damn attracted to him even now, though sex is the last thing on my mind.
“I keep thinking of what could have been. I mean, I know this wasn’t what we expected. At all. It would have been hard and trying, and yet I’m sad it’s not going to happen.”
“It still can,” Chase says and puts his arms around me. “Maybe not right now, but later. And next time we can do it on purpose. It hurts now, but it’ll get easier. I know you’ve heard that before.”
“I have.”
“You’re not alone, Sierra. You will never be alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”
Tears fall from my eyes and Chase pulls me to him, cradling me against his chest. I relax against him and feel the wine hit me. I’m half-asleep only moments later.
And someone is knocking on my door.
“I’ll go,” Chase says, moving away. On an empty stomach, the wine gets to me harder than before. I’m drunk. All I want is to succumb to the darkness and fall back into sleep. Time slips away and what feels like just a second later, Chase is in the room. “Your mom’s here.”
“Why?” I grumble.
“She heard about the bar fight.”
“Mother fucker,” I say into the pillow. Chase helps me to my feet and I wobble as I walk, grimacing from the sunlight. Mom is standing in the living room, perched on the edge of the couch. Her hair is done and she’s dressed in designer clothes.
“Sierra,” she gasps when I stumble into the room. “You look terrible.”
“Thanks, Mom. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Lisabeth DeGraw told me about the fight at The Mill House last night. And how you were involved. Are you okay?”
I shrug, trying to copy Chase’s signature move. In my mind, it was a flawless copy. But in real life, I looked like I was having some sort of convulsion. “I’m alive, right?” I sit heavily on the couch.
“What happened?”
“There were some guys. They got mad. And Chase stopped them.” I look at Chase, realizing for the first time that he’s only wearing pajama pants. My mother hates tattoos and is getting a good display of Chase’s inked skin.
“I heard they were there because of you,” Mom says pointedly, looking right at Chase.
“Mom,” I whisper through clenched teeth.
Chase’s brow furrows and he nods. “They were.”
“Sierra could have gotten hurt,” Mom snaps. “One of them grabbed her.”
“They didn’t hurt me, Mom,” I snap. Something else hurt me, and the hurt is running deeper than I ever imagined. I spring to my feet. The wine paired with bleeding from the miscarriage makes me dizzy. My eyes flutter and I sink back to the couch.
Mom is too busy staring daggers at Chase to notice. “They could have hurt her. Easily. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t come to this town. I knew you were bad news the moment I laid eyes on you. If you care about my daughter at all, you’ll stay far away from her.”
The pain etched on Chase’s face breaks my heart all over again. I turn to my mother, eyes blurring with tears.
“I will talk to you later,” she says to me and then walks out the door. I take in a shaky breath and clutch my heart. Chase is next to me in seconds, and I bury my head in his neck.
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk enough.”
“You have more wine in the fridge.”
I pull back, staring at him quizzically. “You’re not going to tell me to lay off the alcohol?”
He shakes his head. “Not now.” He kisses my forehead and leaves, returning with a bottle of sweet red wine.
“Nocturne Acres,” he reads. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“My family owns a vineyard in California,” I say and take the wine from him. I don’t waste time with a glass. I chug it right from the bottle. Chase takes the bottle from me and brings it to his lips. He sets it down on the coffee table, out of my reach.
“I’m sorry for all the shit that happened, Sierra.”
“Don’t be. And don’t let my mom get to you. That’s how she is to everyone. Manipulative and judgmental. You’re not bad news.”
“Maybe I am,” he says so softly I almost don’t hear him. “I never meant to hurt you, Sierra.”
“I know. You didn’t know those guys were going to show up.”
“Right. Those guys.”
I lean over Chase, reaching for the bottle. I have a sense he’s talking about something else, but in that moment, my brain goes to self-preservation mode. I need another few swallows of wine so I can pass out.