I should’ve told my parents before the funeral there is no piece of Reeve left living on this planet. That hurts so much because my husband wanted tons of kids and the kind of family he was deprived of as a child. That he should die without that destroys me. All that remains are my memories and our cherished mementos and his legacy on the screen. He didn’t leave any flesh and blood behind except for a twin brother who hated him and never wanted him in his life.
I hate that for Reeve and for myself. If God had to be cruel to take my husband, couldn’t he have given me his daughter so I could love her for the both of us?
“I want my daddy!” Easton screams, breaking me out of my inner monologue. I watch in horror, like I’m floating overhead, as he wrestles out of my arms and races toward the coffin. He places his hands on the side of the coffin as heartbreaking cries trickle through the congregation. “Wake up, Daddy! Please!” he sobs, and I know I should go to him, but I’m frozen in place.
Running footsteps echo along the tile floor behind me. Alex stands, striding toward Easton and gently pulling him into his arms. Easton wraps his arms and legs around his Uncle Alex, crying into his shoulder. “I’ve got this,” Alex says, in a clipped tone, looking over Easton’s shoulder.
I glance around, spotting Dillon standing just behind me, staring at Alex with Easton. Pain ravages his face as he looks at his son, and I’m guessing he wishes he was the one comforting him. But Dillon is a stranger to Easton. They only met one time, and he is not who Easton needs right now.
I rise, walking to Dillon’s side. “Please don’t make a scene. Not here,” I whisper in his ear.
“That’s not—” Dillon drags a hand through his hair. “I just want to help.”
“Then leave.” I eyeball him, even though it almost kills me. Seeing Reeve’s eyes on Dillon’s face upsets me even more now. “If you want to help, that’s the best way.”
Tormented eyes peer deep into mine as rumblings from the crowd remind me that we have an audience. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” he says in a choked voice. “More than you could ever know.”
14
VIVIEN
The graveyard proves to be my breaking point, and I fall apart, collapsing against Dad as the casket is lowered into the ground. The finality breaks my heart all over again, and my tortured cries almost drown out the minister’s words.
Reeve is gone, and he’s never coming back. I will never again see his handsome face or melt into a puddle of goo when he fixes that flirtatious smile on me. The taste of his lips is lost to me forever, as is the protective strength of his arms. Waking up tangled between his legs with the comforting sound of his heartbeat against my ear will exist now only in my memories. Never again will I feel him moving inside me, coaxing pleasure from my body.
Sharp pain pierces my chest walls, embedding deep, and I want to die. I want to crawl into that casket with my husband and my daughter and never wake.
How could God take my husband and my baby? How much pain can one person endure in their life? Our daughter was the purest, most innocent treasure. A precious gift, cruelly snatched from us before she ever got to live. Our little girl never got to take her first breath. I will never get to hold her in my arms or to smell that gorgeous newborn smell. I won’t get to feel her tiny fingers curling around mine or hear her desperate cries when she’s hungry or unsettled or just craving a hug.
All of that has been denied to me.
Dad carries me back to the car when it’s clear my legs are malfunctioning, and I sob into his shoulder, clinging to him as Mom rocks a sobbing Easton in her arms.
I manage to compose myself, just before we get back to the house, enough to hold Easton. He is hurting too, and I feel guilty for my thoughts back at the graveside. I need to be here for my son. He needs me, now more than ever, and I can’t be selfish. Not even in my thoughts. We cling to one another, and I hold him close, telling him how much I love him and dotting kisses into his hair. I know my son is the only way I will survive this pain. I need to find the strength to go on for this little boy.
I take Easton to his room to get changed while Mom talks to Charlotte about last-minute arrangements. We’re expecting guests to arrive any minute. “How are you feeling?” I ask E as I help him out of his little black suit.
“Sad. I’m really sad, Mommy.”
I wrap my arms around him, hugging him tight. I understand exactly what he means. Before, sad was just a word, but now it’s a state of being. It consumes every cell, overtakes every other emotion, and my bones feel weighted down with the feeling. It’s as if this is the only way I know how to exist. Covered in this blanket of sadness until there is nothing else.
“Me too, honey. But we won’t always be sad,” I add, forcing a soft smile on my face as I ease back, brushing my fingers along his cheeks. I hope I’m not lying to him. I want to—no, need to—believe in this truth. “Daddy wouldn’t want that for us. He would want us to try to be happy again.”
“I miss him so much.” Tears stab his eyes, and I hug him again.
“We will always miss him, but I have something that might help. Put your shorts and T-shirt on while I get it.”
I return to Easton’s bedroom a few minutes later, carrying a few items. E is wearing his clothes, and he’s slipping into his sneakers. “Sit up here beside me,” I say, resting on the edge of his bed. I prop the framed photo of Reeve on his nightstand, ignoring the piercing pain in my heart. “Daddy is always going to be watching over you, and I thought you might like to say goodnight to him every night.” Easton sniffles, snuggling into my side. “Anytime you want to talk to him, to tell him about something exciting that happened in school or maybe finding more bugs, you can talk to his picture, and he’ll hear it in heaven.”
“He will?” He lifts his head, his wide eyes staring at me with so much trust and hope.
I nod, hoping I won’t be struck down. I hand him one of Reeve’s watches. “This one was your daddy’s favorite. It’s a golf watch. I bought it for him when he turned seventeen. I think he would want you to have it.” Easton slides it on over his wrist, trying to tie it. “It’s too big for you to wear now, but maybe you could keep it in your drawer for when you’re older.”
“Yeah. For when I play golf too.”
“Exactly.” I smile as he opens his drawer, very carefully placing the watch inside.
“And this was one of Daddy’s favorite T-shirts. I bought it for him when I was in Greece one summer. Maybe you might like to sleep in it or keep it for when you fit into it. The choice is yours.”
Easton brings it to his nose. “It smells like my daddy.”
Tears pool in my eyes. “Yeah, buddy. It does.” I threw a hissy fit when Mom permitted Charlotte to change my bedsheets. I hadn’t planned on ever changing them. Not as long as Reeve’s smell was still embedded in the fibers. Now, I’ve resorted to sleeping in his shirts so I can still smell him.
I haven’t sorted any of his things yet, and it’s on my long list of things I’m dreading.
I hand Easton the last item. Going into the nursery to retrieve it had almost undone me again. “I think your little sister would like you to have this,” I whisper, giving him the fluffy pink stuffed rabbit. “You will always be Lainey’s big brother, and when you feel sad about her, maybe you can cuddle her bunny rabbit or sleep with it,” I suggest.