I make a scoffing sound. “How was it for me?”
Nolan takes a few deep breaths, then says, “Well, let’s see….Just imagine if on the morning after the accident…after we talked in my car…if I had walked into your house and told your family that Josie was out-of-her-mind wasted the night before—”
“And that you called Daniel to come get her,” I cut him off, raising my voice, pointing at him. “Don’t forget that part.”
“I never do. Not for one day,” he says, before taking a few deep breaths, collecting himself. “So, I sit you all down and tell you that story—”
“That story?” I interrupt again. “It’s not a story, Nolan. It’s what actually happened.”
“Okay, Meredith,” he says, sounding weary. “Quit being a lawyer and let me finish. Please.”
“Fine. Go ahead.” I clamp my mouth shut and cross my arms.
“So I tell you all what happened….I tell you that Josie was wasted and I called Daniel to come get her….”
“Okay,” I say, thinking that’s exactly what he should have told us. “And?”
“And what would that have done to your family? How would that have helped anyone?”
I stare at him.
“How would your mom have felt about Josie? Would she have ever been able to truly forgive her? And what about your dad? He just lost his only son and…” His voice trails off.
“And what?” I say. “Finish your sentence….”
“He just lost his only son,” Nolan repeats, “and would inevitably wonder if his alcoholism didn’t somehow contribute to Josie’s drinking….He’d live with a lifetime of guilt in addition to pain….And then there’s you and Josie…What would the truth have done to your relationship?”
“The same thing it’s doing now,” I say, staring down at my lap.
“Exactly,” he says, as if I’ve just made his case.
“But what about us, Nolan?” I ask. “You and me?”
He stares back at me, seemingly speechless.
“Why did you really marry me, Nolan?” I ask, my heart pounding.
“I already answered that. I told you at Blackberry Farm….”
“Tell me again,” I say.
“Because I fell in love with you,” he says, too automatically.
I shake my head and say, “I don’t believe that, Nolan. I think you liked the idea of marrying Daniel’s sister. And I think it made you feel less guilty about what happened that night….It helped you make sense of something senseless and horrible—”
He shakes his head and says no, but without any conviction.
“Daniel was like a brother to you,” I say. “So you wanted to try to fix things for my family.”
“Our family,” Nolan says. “It’s our family now.”
I tell him that is beside the point.
“No,” he says, his voice rising with frustration. “It is the point. You’re my family, Meredith. You and Harper and your parents and your nutty sister and the baby she’s about to bring into this world. You’re all my family. And I love you—”
I cut him off and shout, “Okay. But are you in love with me?”
He groans in frustration, then says, “I don’t know, Mere. You make it pretty hard to be sometimes.”
I take this as a no, and press onward. “Were you ever?”
“Yes,” he says, then quickly downgrades his answer. “At least I think so….”
“You think so?” I demand.
“Yes. I think so…but…maybe not,” he says, wavering, clearly in anguish. “Maybe you’re right….”
I nod, his admission filling me with both intense relief and profound sadness. “That’s what I thought,” I say.
“But I do love you, Meredith,” he says, reaching for my hand. I give it to him, then meet his gaze. “And I would do absolutely anything for you and Harper. Anything. Isn’t that enough?”
I stare at him for a long time, thinking that this is really the crux of our crisis and the question I’ve been asking myself for years. Is it enough to be partners and parents together? To share the same history and values—and most important, a deep and abiding love for our daughter and family? Can all of that sustain us and overcome the elusive missing piece that I’ve never been able to quite put my finger on, other than to know it’s just not there?
I desperately want the answer to be yes, and for a second nearly convince myself that I can will it to be so. But deep down, I know it doesn’t work that way, at least not for me. I feel my answer crystallizing in a way it never has before.
“No, Nolan,” I finally say, shaking my head. “I’m sorry…but I just don’t think it is.”
chapter thirty-three
JOSIE
It is Thanksgiving Day, and exactly two weeks after Dr. Lazarus shot me up with a vial of Gabe’s sperm. It is also the day upon which she told us we could take a pregnancy test and expect reliable results. I wake up and head straight to Gabe’s room, finding him shirtless in front of his closet.