This is Living (Living #1.5) (12 page)

BOOK: This is Living (Living #1.5)
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I
t’s sometime in the late evening when I’m awakened from pain shooting through my lower half. My abdomen along with my uterus and other girly parts feel like they have been thoroughly abused. While the pain isn’t unbearable, it definitely isn’t comfortable either.

For a moment, I’m disoriented to what it all means. Then flashes from earlier events bombard me and my confusion turns to pain, only this isn’t the physical kind. The scene from the doctor’s office plays like a movie on repeat in my mind. From me screaming into the phone, yelling at the doctor, to the look of despair on Jayson’s face as he met me at the ER entrance...it doesn’t stop. Especially the look on his face….a look I put there.

It was evident he was distraught about the loss of the baby, but at the same time I could see he was beating himself up for my being alone when I received the news. Remembering his look of devastation has shame coursing through me. .

Pain shoots through my chest and I gasp at the severity of it. It forces my eyes open and what I see cracks my heart the rest of the way open. I see a large tanned hand holding mine and placed on top of my lost baby bump.

Unable to hold them back any longer, tears fall from my eyes and the gravity of the loss of our baby finally forces its way to the surface. Trying not to move so he won’t know I’m awake, I pull in small breaths through my nose, hoping to calm myself down.

I think I’ve fooled him until I feel a squeeze from the hand holding mine. That’s all it takes…tears, gasps, and sobs pour out until finally I’m spent. He still hasn’t said a word and as I grieve, he never lets go of me. Instead he gives me strength just through the link of our hands.

Finally, I get myself under control and try to gather the strength to look at him. Just like years ago, when I couldn’t look in a mirror due to my past, I can’t look him in the eye. What will I find there? Will there be hate, recriminations, pity?

Instead of waiting for me to gather my resolve, he pulls my chin up to where I can see his stunning green eyes…eyes that I’ve seen every emotion in over the years. When I look deep into them, I see one thing: love.

Laughing inside, I want to shake my head at this turn of events. Why I doubted him, I don’t know. He has never shown me anything but his love and devotion since I met him. Although at this moment, I’m not sure I’m worthy of it.

He bends and places his lips on mine and presses down for a moment. It’s only a slight kiss, but it holds all the answers I’ve been worried about since I woke up: he doesn’t blame me and he still loves me.

Leaning back, I snuggle into him as much as I can without hurting the incisions from my surgery. I want to say so much, yet at the same time I don’t. I don’t have to…he breaks the silence for me.

“I’m glad you’re awake. I was starting to think you weren’t going to wake up until tomorrow. Of course, I might be a little responsible for that; I hit the button on your PCA pump a few times when you kept groaning in your sleep,” he indicates the button on the cord lying across my lap.

“I guess that explains why I’m not hurting too badly; are you trying to drug me,” I ask teasingly?

“Yeah, you got me.”

It’s evident from our stilted banter that neither of us knows what to say. I decide that I just need to get it out there. Not knowing what he is going to say scares me the most. While he obviously still loves me, I worry he might not be able to get past the blame I placed on his shoulders all while ignoring the fact that he was dealing with a loss, too. In other words, can he forgive me for being a cold selfish bitch?

“You can do this…just say it,” I give myself an inner pep talk.

Picking up his hand, I place a kiss across the back of it. “I need to apologize to you for how I treated you and for the things I said on the phone. Also, for blaming you for the fact that I was alone. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t something you planned. But, selfishly, I wanted someone to hurt as much as I was.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and fear seizes my insides. I should have kept my mouth shut. Opening my mouth to backtrack so I don’t feel so foolish, he starts to speak before I can get the words out.

“I won’t say it didn’t hurt. It hurt me more than anything in the world.”

Hearing his words, I shut my eyes tightly to hold back my emotions. I don’t stop him though; I deserve to hear whatever he has to say.

“I don’t think this is a good time to discuss everything. You’ve just woken up from surgery and anesthesia can make you emotional, not to mention the pain meds. You need to have a clear head for when we talk.”

And now, I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. My heart is pounding so hard; I don’t know how he doesn’t hear it. Forgetting any love I may have seen in his eyes, I voice my greatest fear. “Are you leaving me? If you are, just tell me and get it over with. I can’t stand not knowing.”

My whole body stiffens while I wait for his answer. I prepare myself for a blow, but it never comes. Instead, I feel him move away from me and watch as he comes around to the other side of the bed.

I close my eyes against what I think is getting ready to happen.

The mattress depresses and I feel him sit down next to me. He leans closer to me and says, “Open your eyes.”

Like a child, I squeeze them shut even harder than before. His hand strokes my face and nothing more is said. I know what he’s doing. He’s waiting me out until I can’t stand it anymore: I have to open my eyes.

I give him what he wants a few seconds later; I’m not good at waiting or wondering as you can see.

“There you are.”

His face breaks out into a smile and I wonder what in the hell is he smiling about. Is he that thrilled to get rid of me?

Wordlessly, I stare back at him…what can I say when I don’t actually know what he is thinking?

Still caressing my face, he lets me see into his heart. “I don’t want to discuss stressful things with you right after surgery. But, I will say this: I’m not leaving you. I told you I would never leave you, no matter what. You’re my heart and I can’t live without my heart.”

His words are such a huge contrast to my hurtful ones screamed in anger not too many hours ago. “How can you say that after what I did?”

“Because as someone told me recently, neither of us are perfect. You have to quit expecting me to be and I have to take you down from the pedestal I placed you on many years ago.”

My eyes burn from unshed tears because I know exactly what he is saying. It’s hard to admit, but I do put that pressure on us both.

“Again, I think we need to talk more about this later. You’re in pain and we have a lot to deal with emotionally. I’m going to crawl back into bed with you and we’re going to rest, ok?”

I want to disagree and continue to talk about everything, but I’m so tired and maybe sleep isn’t such a bad idea after all. As he lays down and wraps himself around me, I give into his warmth and let it lull me into the peaceful sleep I need to heal.

C
hloe drifts in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Between the lumpy mattress, lying on the edge, and her hanging on to me, I don’t sleep at all.

I think back over our previous conversations and it’s apparent to me that her abandonment issues are back in full force. I’m not sure what has triggered it, but from the grip she has on my shirt and my hand, I know I’m not exaggerating the problem.

For the most part, Chloe is level-headed, but due to certain issues in her childhood, she still has scars left over from her parent’s emotional abuse. Over the years, I thought my love and devotion would be enough to fix her, but now I’m questioning things. She is miles from the scared closed-off girl I met in college, yet every once in a while I get glimpses of her…like now.

Slowly, I pull away and grab my phone off of the counter. I know this is not one of those times I can just kiss the pain away. I also know she is going to fight me on this so I call the one person I know will help me convince her of what needs to be done.

Walking out into the hallway, I hear the phone ring twice until I hear Madison’s voice say, “Hey Dr. McSteamy.”

Rolling my eyes at her title, I laugh and say, “Connor must be there; I usually don’t get any love unless you’re trying to push his buttons.”

“Well, you know I have to put him in his place or his big head wouldn’t fit through any of our doorways.”

I hear Connor grumbling in the background and for a minute, everything feels normal. Until I remember the reason for my phone call.

“I’m going to need your help with something. Chloe is having some problems and I think she needs to speak to a therapist. I don’t think me suggesting it is going to go over well, so I was hoping you might help me.”

Madison doesn’t hesitate and says, “I will be there tomorrow. Wait until I get there to mention anything to her. I can recommend the therapist I spoke with and sometimes still do.”

This is a shock to me…I had no idea that she needed a therapist, but then again, why would I? On the outside, Madison is the happiest person I know. My silence must clue her in that I’m wondering what she’s talking about.

“I started seeing Dr. Holtzer after Connor and I got together. I have a lot of unresolved issues due to my dad’s infidelity.”

Immediately, I know what she’s talking about. Her dad was married with a whole other family living a few miles from Madison and her mother. She didn’t find out until she was 16 that his other family existed. I can’t even imagine how that could fuck with a person’s mind.

“Did she help you,” I ask hopefully?

“Yes, she did. And she still does. There are days that I fall back into destructive ways of thinking. That’s what Chloe is doing now. Just don’t give up on her.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not. I won’t ever give up on her,” I answer in a rush.

“I know you won’t. You love her too much and you have the Reece stubbornness going for you…only in this case, it’s a good thing. You do know that this is going to piss her off, right?”

“I’m a big boy; I can handle it,” I say with false bravado. Yes, my short little wife scares me sometimes; I’m man enough to admit it.

“Uh huh, sure you are. We’ll see how that big talking goes over tomorrow.”

We both laugh and I tell her thanks for talking with me. “I’ll text you tomorrow about what time to get here.”

“All right, McSteamy, see you tomorrow.”

Laughing I say, “You watch way too much TV.”

“Well, what else can I do…I’m stuck here all day with your brother’s spawn, thanks to his super sperm!”

I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole so I say, “Uh well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

This gets the biggest laugh yet…she lives to make me uncomfortable and talking about Connor’s “super sperm” will do it every time. 

BOOK: This is Living (Living #1.5)
5.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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