The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella (23 page)

I pause just before crossing the threshold into the next room, leaning against the doorframe as I take in the sight of my beautiful, bashful, broken bride. She committed the piece she
’
s playing to memory and as she moves with every phrase, she keeps her eyes sealed shut. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a thick, messy knot; a few strands have come loose and frame her gorgeous face.

Right now, as she lets the music consume her, I see the ounce of peace that she has found. Yet, I can also see that it is not enough. The joy that I
’
ve seen in her performance is not burning as bright as I know that it can. While I continue to watch her, I pray for help. I know that Avery and I will both always question why God decided to take our baby, but I
’
ve also come to appreciate that there is always hope. There is hope in the fact that life
does
go on. My life with Avery will go on and that is a blessing beyond compare.

Avery is my blessing.

When she
’
s finished playing, she lets her arms fall to her sides, as if she
’
s exhausted all of her energy for the day. It takes her a moment to open her eyes, but when she does, she looks right at me. My heart skips a beat as our gazes lock.

God, I love her so much
.

“You sound amazing,
”
I say sincerely.

“Thank you.
”
As she speaks, she pulls her eyes away from mine. Our disconnect urges me away from the place where I lean and I make my way towards her. When I
’
ve closed the distance between us, I gently take hold of her cello and pull it from between her legs, setting it down in its open case. She looks at me with confusion when I take her bow and place it behind me on the coffee table before I kneel down in front of her.

“Talk to me, Shorty,
”
I plead. I know that I sound desperate, but I don
’
t care.
“
I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me what
’
s going on in your head
—
in your heart.
”
I lift my hand to touch her cheek and she turns away from me.
“
Avery
…”

“I
’
m just
—
I
’
m just sad. I don
’
t know what you want me to say.
”

“Oh, sweetheart, say anything!
”
I reach for her again, this time with both hands, and turn her face towards mine. I watch as her eyes fill with tears and I
’
m overwhelmed by my desire to kiss her. It takes
every ounce
of strength I have to stop myself from pushing her too far. I suck in a deep breath instead, desperately waiting for her next words.

“No, Grayson,
”
she chokes, pulling my hands away from her.

“You can
’
t do this. You can
’
t shut me out like this. It
’
s not fair,
”
I insist, rising to my feet.

“
Fair,
”
she coughs out the word as if it
’
s the most disgusting thing she
’
s ever tasted.
“
No. It isn
’
t, is it?
”
She stands to her feet and starts to walk around me but I block her path.

“
Avery
,
”
I bite, my patience waning.
“
I
’
m trying to talk to you
—
don
’
t walk away from me.
”

“I
can
’
t
talk to you. Don
’
t you understand?
”

I shake my head as I answer her.
“
No. You
choose
not to talk to me. I can
’
t take it anymore. I can
’
t take your cold shoulder
—
I can
’
t go another day without you looking at me. Dammit, Avery,
”
I reach for her chin, lifting her face so that I can see into her eyes.
“
Look at me!
”

She does as I ask before she jerks away from my touch. I don
’
t know whether to feel startled, irritated, or hopeful that I see anger in her eyes. Then she takes off her shirt and throws it on the ground and I know this is not what I intended.

“Is this what you want?
”

“No, Avery, I don
’
t want to fight.
”

“Do you want to hear me tell you how much I hurt? How much I despise myself for being such a failure?
”
she
’
s crying angry, bitter tears as she steps out of her shorts and tosses them away from her.
“
Off,
”
she demands, pointing a finger at me.

“Avery, we don
’
t have to fight
—
that
’
s not what I want.
”

“
Stop being nice to me! Just stop! Fight
—
fight with me!
”

I'm struck dumb by her outburst. I frown at her as I try and make sense of why she would want me to stop being nice to her. Before I can wrap my head around it, she's yanking my shirt off. When I grab her wrists to stop her, she pulls herself free.
“
Avery, what's going on? Why shouldn't I be nice to you? I
—”

“
It's my fault!
”
she cries, smacking her hand against her bare chest.
“
I
lost the baby.
”

Her words are like a right hook smashed against my jaw.
“
Is that what you think?
”
All at once, everything makes sense. Her actions, her words
—
or lack there of
—
it all boils down to
this
. Has she been blaming herself this whole time? And I the fool who thought she just needed a little room to breathe? To grieve?
“
Shorty, the doctor
—”

“
I don't need to rehear what the doctors have said. I don't need to hear what my mother and everyone else has been saying. It's
my
body. It was
my
baby. It was
my
fault!
”

“
It was my baby, too,
”
I insist, trying one more time to reach for her.

“
It's not the same,
”
she tells me, shaking her head as she takes a step back.
“
You don't understand, you can't understand.
”

I flinch at her reply.
“
What are you trying to say?
”
I question.
“
Is what I feel suddenly not relevant? What I know to be true holds no value because, what, because it wasn't
my
body?
”

“
No
—
yes
—
that
’
s what I'm saying. I just
—
my body, my fault. You should be hurt, you should feel betrayed; I failed you and
—”

“
Stop! Stop it! This is
not
your fault.
”
She closes her eyes and covers her ears and suddenly my fear is in overdrive. This is so much worse than I imagined and I don't know how to stop it. What I thought was an unshakable grief
—
an undeniable sadness spurred by the loss of not just new life, but also the future we were hoping for
—
it
’
s proven to be catastrophically worse. She
’
s been consumed by blame. The lies that have been eating away at her have completely distorted reality. Now, she
’
s lost in her own world, in a place where it makes sense for me to be
angry
with her. The truth is, anger is the opposite of how I feel.

“Look at me!
”
I huff, finally joining her in this fight as I discard my shirt. It
’
s time I step the fuck up. No more walking on eggshells. I will not allow her to wallow in this place.
“
This is
not
your fault. Do you hear me? This is
not your fault.
”

“
You don't know that!
”
she shouts, dropping her hands as she curls her fingers into fists.

“
Yes
, I do,
”
I declare, kicking my shorts from around my ankle.
“
This has nothing to do with you.
Nothing
. You did
everything
right. Even if you didn't, this was
not
your decision, it was His. Don't kid yourself into thinking that you're somehow bigger than God.
”

“
You don't think that thought has crossed my mind?
”
She
’
s sobbing now and I can hardly understand what she
’
s saying.
“
You don't think I haven't justified His punishment?
”
she asks, pulling her sports bra over her head.

For a second, I can't hear a thing. All I see is my wife. I haven't seen her in weeks. The little baby fat she had is gone, and then some. The sight of her crushes me; my beautiful bride is withering away. Yet, even still, there
’
s a part of me that cannot deny that the woman before me is
mine
. My entire body feels as if it
’
s on fire, my desire for her impossible to ignore.

“Are you
kidding me?
”
she shrieks, reaching up to bury her fingers in her hair. I don
’
t have to look down to see what she sees, but I do anyway, cursing the neglected bastard for its timing.
“
Is
that
what this is about? Have you held out as long as you can? Do you need me to
look
at you so that I might
want
you?
”

Instantly, I
’
m enraged.
“
How
dare
you!
”
I cry, my lust forgotten as my fear collides with my sudden anger, forming a knot in my throat that I can
’
t swallow.
“
This is
not
about
sex
and you
know
it! This is about you and me and every promise we
’
ve ever made to each other. This is about you believing the lie that this is somehow your fault. Hear me when I say that, Avery
—
it
’
s a lie! Tell yourself whatever you want, it won
’
t make that lie anymore true. And I sure as hell will never blame you
—
not ever! You wanted that baby as much as I did. Blaming yourself won
’
t make our loss any easier. And it is
our loss
.
Ours!
We
’
re supposed to be in this together, Avery. Forever and always
—
we promised.
”

“You don
’
t understand
—”

“No,
you
don
’
t understand!
”
I bark, ignoring the sting of my salty tears gathering behind my eyes.
“
I get it.
Your body. Your pain.
I won
’
t ever know the trauma you went through physically. I can
’
t ever know
—
but do you have any idea how terrifying this has been for me? I haven
’
t stopped being scared or worried since the moment you woke me up in the middle of the night, covered in blood. Don
’
t tell me that I don
’
t understand! You
’
re the one who doesn
’
t understand. I can
’
t get you to tell me
anything
. You won
’
t look at me. I haven
’
t been able to
touch
you, my own wife, in weeks. You won
’
t even let me hold your hand. I
’
m trying to be here for you, for us, and you won
’
t let me.