Abruption (40 page)

Brittany was finishing up nursing school when Maya arrived, and even though they were six years apart and separated by a few states, it was clear Maya looked up to her as the sister neither had. It wasn’t surprising that Maya took Brittany’s death very hard.

Offering to be a nanny for Guy and making the decision to pursue a degree in nursing brought back purpose. Darla felt she had her life on track.

Needless to say, the Goldmans were almost as distraught as we were. The news of what Maya had done to their grandchildren ripped them to shreds.

Darla’s words from that day often haunted me and broke my heart at the same time.

How is it possible that we are mourning the loss of another daughter?

That afternoon over coffee, Guy saw another side to Brittany’s parents. They may have been wealthy and self-righteous, but in their own way, they loved Brittany and they loved Maya. We gained a perspective on not only the challenging life Maya dealt with, but also on Brittany’s life, and more particularly, her upbringing.

Maya’s actions would never be justifiable. Hell no. And certainly never forgivable. But it was easier to understand where they could have manifested.

Brittany, on the other hand, might have grown up with a silver spoon, but it was obvious Darla and Peter provided a safe and stable environment. This gave us a clearer understanding of why Brittany did what she did. Her mistakes were made out of immaturity. Made out of stupidity. But not made out of malice. Brittany would have never intentionally harmed her children.

Guy’s vision had been clouded for so long by anger and bitterness that it was impossible for him to see past it. But through Darla’s admissions and insight, the haze lifted.

He was finally, after four trying years, able to love Brittany for simply providing him with two beautiful children. This was a monumental come-to-bejesus moment for Guy. The last layers of animosity he held for her evaporated.

“Thank you for making the suggestion. I’m not sure Guy would have reached out if you hadn’t pushed him to do so.”

“Good. I’m glad it worked out.” Dr. Fitzsimond jotted something on his legal pad then looked back up at me. “Jules, I want you to know that I think you’re in a very good place in your recovery. Our discussion today only solidified my confidence in you. Unless you object or feel differently, I don’t really see a need to continue our weekly visits. Of course, my door is always open if you need me.” He stared at me with his soft, contemplative eyes for several long seconds before he asked, “How does that make you feel?”

I pierced my lips into a perfectly straight line and swallowed back the bubbling laugh that was sure to explode from my mouth.

How does that make me feel?

Lucky.

“How’d it go?” Guy asked as I walked through the door. The house was quiet and a ping of jealousy shot through me. Even though I was impressed he handled bedtime, I was disappointed I missed my little monkeys. After everything with Maya, we’d be the first to admit we may have succumbed to Max and Finn’s every request—including and not limited to spending extra time snuggling in bed with them until they fell asleep. We knew that was a big no-no, but honestly, we didn’t care. Maybe it was us being selfish and subconsciously giving in to some of our residual guilt. Whatever it was, neither of us had an ounce of regret.

Recently though, the “routine” (or lack thereof) had gotten out of control. And after much debate, we finally decided to nip our lenient behavior in the bud. Shockingly (not), a little added discipline and a more regular bedtime ritual were doing wonders. Less meltdowns and a lot less attitude. (Hooray). It was a win-win for all. Kids weren’t cranky, and Guy and I got to spend a lot more time
awake
in bed.

Which had some serious advantages.

I kicked off my heels and padded across the living room. Guy’s bare feet were propped up on the coffee table, hands resting behind his head as his very shirtless self flexed his abs.

He was so doing that on purpose. Ass.

I ignored his
how’d it go
for now and went with, “Kids asleep?” Silly question I knew, because if they weren’t they’d be bouncing off the walls. He nodded, but something about his smug grin looked fishy. “In our bed?”

He grinned.

“Guy!” I threw my arms in the air. “We’ve been working so hard at getting them to sleep in their own beds, and you just shot it all to hell.”

He threw his head back and belly laughed.

God, did I love that laugh. The laugh that brought my own laughter back. The one that made the tiny hairs at the nape of my neck stand on end. The one that he so freely gave to his children, even when he was hurting. The one that made me fall in love.

And to think, in the blink of an eye, something so beautiful could have been stolen right out from under us.

I refused to give Maya the satisfaction of even imagining a world that unfair.

Fair is not getting what you think you deserve, fair is getting what you can handle.

Staring at my beautiful man, serenity washed over me. I knew in this moment that we built a foundation strong enough that when the winds forged and tested our roots, we would always persevere.
Together
, we could handle anything.

“I’m discharged,” I gloated teasingly. His laughter immediately died down, leaving me with his sexy smirk. Ah, the one that was sure to be the death of me.

“From therapy?

“Yup.”

His brow rose. “So why did he give me a hard time?”

I shrugged and decided to keep it light, sassing back, “Dr. Fitzsimond just liked me better, I guess.”

His smile lit back up before he drawled, “I’m sure he did. I’d like you better too. I bet his eyes were glued to your sexy legs in that skirt, just waiting for you to uncross and cross again.”

“Eww, Guy. Stop. That’s so skeevy.” I felt my face distort, making us both laugh.

“Seriously though, what did he say to you? I mean, at the end of your session, how did you leave it?”

I smirked—he totally set himself up for this. What the heck did he think he said?

“How does that make you feel?”

And this time, the laughter flew out of my mouth, morphing instantly into hysterics, which quickly turned into me flat on my back with Guy on top, gnawing at my neck with his two-day stubble. It was fabulous. It was hot. It was perfect.

I couldn’t imagine anything better than this moment, going at it like teenagers with our kids safely tucked in our bed.

Guy lifted himself off my chest, his blue eyes catching my brown, and his smile blinding. “Who loves ya?”

I lied.
Now
I couldn’t imagine anything better.

“I love you too,” I answered from the innermost depths of my soul.

He kissed my forehead, he kissed the tip of my nose, and he kissed my lips. Then he gave me better. Short of the impossible, bringing my precious baby girl back to me, he gave me everything.

“Marry me, Jules. Marry
us
.”

Two years later…

“G
ood boy, buddy. Go get it.” I chased after Raff, who was waddling after the ball I’d purposely thrown toward the front yard of Jules’ aunt and uncle’s house. This was my well-deserved five minutes away from the circus. No one needed to know I was using my son as an excuse. Last thing I wanted was to be corralled by upset Italians.

“Here, bring it back to me, Daddy will throw your ball again.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at how my one-year-old fetched better than Casey. But then again, Casey was only working with one eye. Jules blamed it on poor depth perception; I blamed it on blindness. You couldn’t fetch if you couldn’t see it. We agreed to disagree.

“Where you going, man? Can I come?” Bryce asked, jogging up beside me. The look of disbelief on his face told me that he was as bewildered as I was.

Jules warned me this reunion would be both sides of the family and to expect a good amount of people. Two full-sized tents—and no joke—twenty large round tables stuck on an eighth of an acre seemed a bit excessive. Did third cousins, twice removed really need an invite?

“Dude, I think half of Italy just mauled me. Twice. There might be more people here than there were at my wedding. And what’s up with the green weeds covered in that thick crust, was I supposed to eat that?”

I busted out laughing. “You better not have wasted that pie. That shit is good.” Possessive over dandelions, Jules would be so proud I was supporting her roots. I’d come so far in two years.