“You’re right. I don’t know what it must have been like for you, but you know I know what loss feels like. It wouldn’t have made a difference to me, Holly. I could have mourned our child with you. Instead, you took that from me.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I tried to tell you, but I didn’t know how. You have every right to be angry, but this was taken from me, too, Sy.” She breaks in my arms and the past comes crashing back and the memories bring on a new wave of sadness. “It was taken from me too,” she repeats. Her words become lost in the sobs of her grief. I hold her as she finally lets me in, but I don’t say anything, my mind and heart still coming to terms with it all.
“I lost the baby,” she sobs, turning her anger toward me, her fists hitting at my chest.
“Our baby,” I correct her, letting her have this moment. This is what she should have given me, this moment right now. I don’t know how I would have responded six months ago if she had told me she was pregnant. I knew I wanted her—knew from the moment I met her she was different, and maybe the news would have pushed me away or brought me closer to her. I don't know. But I do know that in the last few months we’ve grown closer, I’ve fallen for this woman, and knowing something we created was taken from us, something that could have grown into someone amazing who can no longer be, makes it hurt so much more.
“I know we were only in it for fun, Sy, but when I heard that heartbeat, it didn’t matter. I was going to be a mom.” She cries harder, letting her emotions show. There’s nothing I can tell her that will make it better, no magic potion to stop the hurt. So I don’t say anything. I hold her and let her cry for a baby we shouldn’t have lost. A family we could have had. And I do it knowing I feel the same way. A prickly sensation covers my body, confusion clouds my mind and for the second time this week, I feel the painful sting of tears.
***
“I thought you’d left,” her sleepy voice drifts behind me as I flip the bacon over in the frying pan.
“No. Just got up to make you something to eat.” I turn and watch her looking uncomfortable—maybe unsure. She had fallen back to sleep after crying in my arms for over an hour, so I left her to sleep and decided to make breakfast. “Come here.” I hold my hand out for her, hating she doesn’t know how to act around me now. She falters for a moment before taking the first step.
“Why does this feel awkward?” she asks, burying her head into my neck.
“I think you’re the only one who’s making it awkward, baby.” I pull back, watching her. She’s right. There is an air of unease around us.
“I just don’t know how to act. I don’t know how I feel.” She steps back and hikes herself up on the counter. “I don’t know how you feel.” She whispers the last part without looking me in the eye. I want to go to her, tell her everything I’m feeling, not just the pain and the hurt, but that the lies she told were too much, she knows this. She knows how far we had come only for it to be shaken.
“How about I feed you, then we can talk,” I suggest, going back to the bacon. “Have you eaten this week?” I ask, looking up when she doesn’t answer.
“Not much,” she admits, making me feel worse for keeping her at a distance for so long.
“Well, let me feed you.” I turn, reaching up to get the plates out.
“Are you still angry?” she asks when I lay the plates out next to her, clearly not ready to wait.
“I don’t know. I think I’m just numb,” I tell her honestly, because I don’t want to lie anymore. I think the anger has gone, and now I’ve come to the conclusion that we need to move forward. I’m not going to lose her over this, and I don’t want to push her away.
“I hate that for you.” She looks down again at her hands, which sit on her lap.
“And I hate that for you, too, Holly. But we can’t change it now.” I walk forward and lift her chin with my finger. “What you did pisses me off more than anything, I can understand on some level why you were afraid to let me in, to let me help you heal. However it doesn't change the way I feel, Holly. It's just a whole lot of shit to deal with.” She nods in understanding. “Come on. Let's eat.” I step back to let her down. “Coffee?” I ask, moving to the coffee pot.
“Yes, please,” she answers, walking around the table while I serve up our breakfast.
We eat in silence, the comfortable peace we’ve always shared together slowly returning.
“Can I ask you a question?” Her voice pulls us out of the quietness. I nod, knowing whatever she has to ask, I’ll answer just to get us back to where we were.
“Would you have wanted me to keep the baby?” Her eyes look so unsure, as if the answer scares her, but the depth of her vulnerability is what scares me.
“What the hell, Holly?” I spin in my chair, reach out and pull her from her seat to sit on me. “I wanted you before I found out about the baby, Holly. I’m not going to lie. I never thought I would want another child after Keira, but knowing our child was in here—” my hands go to her stomach, “—fills me with hope. Hope that my heart can handle that again. I would have wanted him or her just as much as you did.”
“You say that now.” She looks up. “What if I was pregnant again now?”
“Could you already be?” I ask as a small fire lights inside of me. I was not expecting her to say this, but Jesus, could she have my child growing in her?