It’s how life works.
I hoped that I would have been able to justify things more by the time the morning arrived. That maybe by dawn, I would think that staying with Dara would work out. That it was the right answer. That she was the one for me.
She is the one for me. The thought of not seeing her again destroys me in a way I know I haven’t fully absorbed. My life is already colder. My heart harder. My soul dim.
But this isn’t about me—it’s about her. It’s about doing what’s best for Dara. And it’s obvious that doing what’s best is not being with me. After all, she got hurt because of me. Because I wasn’t there for her even though I knew that I should’ve been.
My mom is wrong. I will never make a great husband and certainly never a good father.
Why? Why am I this way? I’m so acutely detailed with every other part of my life. I’m regimented. Bold. Decisive. Yet when it comes to women …
They nearly die.
I jump as my phone buzzes. I whip it off the table.
My heart pounds so hard that I can barely concentrate on the words written on the device.
Dara: Rusti is taking me home. I was released. In case you might come by.
I wait for more.
Nothing comes.
Rusti is taking me home.
In case you might come by.
I run my hands over my face and feel my heart break all over again.
She’s done with me. I’ve let her down, and she knows it. It’s unforgivable.
I can’t blame her.
I’ll blame myself for the rest of my life.
She didn’t even ask if I wanted to pick her up. She didn’t assume I would be by to see her. Because she doesn’t want me around.
Because she doesn’t need me.
I get to my feet and text her back.
Me: I’d like to see you today. Just for a little bit. Would that be okay?
Dara: That’s fine. I’ll be at home.
That’s fine.
My heart breaks.
As I learned from my mother, those two words together mean the exact opposite.
I’m fine means that nothing is fine at all.
My spirit falls.
My heart breaks.
My life is effectively over.
Dara
“Do you want to talk or sleep?” Rusti fluffs the pillow under my head. “I’ll lie beside you, and we can chat or nap. Your call.”
I want to sleep. I want to close my eyes and drift off to a time before yesterday when my life wasn’t in shambles.
My face hurts the most from crying all night. The nurse finally gave me something to help settle me, but it didn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Did you actually tell him that you’re pregnant?” Rusti asks, curling up in front of me. “Because I missed that part if you did.”
“He knows.”
“How?”
I don’t know.
“I think the doctor must’ve told him,” I say, my voice hollow.
I still have no idea why they would have told Wade, though. He’s not listed as my next of kin, and hospitals are so strict on policy.
Maybe Gramps is friends with someone high up in the hospital.
The wealthy and their connections.
“He knew. I could see it in his eyes, Rusti. He was … he was reacting to something besides me. I’m going to be fine. Just a little banged up.”
“And pregnant.” She grins. “You’re having a baby. There’s that.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Well, you might as well get used to it, Mama.”
I roll my eyes, making her laugh. But I don’t laugh. I can’t find humor in my life imploding.
“I wonder if my mom felt this way,” I say. “My dad didn’t want me either.”
“Dara …”
I close my eyes after all. “I’ll raise this baby. And if Wade doesn’t want to help me, then I’ll do it like Mom did. It’ll be fine.”
“And you have Cleo and me.”
I snort.
My brain starts to get fuzzy, and I yawn. The doctor said I’d be in pain, and he wasn’t wrong. But I bet he didn’t predict the pain in my heart or how devastated it would feel when it broke into a million pieces.
There are no painkillers for that. I probably couldn’t take them now anyway.
“I just need to have a conversation with him at some point …”
I drift off to sleep.
FORTY-ONE
DARA
“Hey.”
Wade’s voice stirs me from my nap. I don’t really believe it’s him that I hear. I have an even harder time realizing it’s him in my doorway.
He looks … awful. Dark spots under his eyes. Unshaven. He lacks his cool demeanor, and it’s been replaced with something … else. Something detached but also affected.
What the hell?
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Sure. Yes. Of course.”
I wince as I sit up.
He lunges into action, grabbing my arm, and helps me get situated. His touch is gentle, and I wish it didn’t feel like the last time I would experience it.
His face is sullen as he sits.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Like I got hit by a truck.”
He doesn’t laugh. I shrug.
“The police came by today. Told me it wasn’t my fault,” I tell him. “The guy fell asleep at the wheel and hit me.”
“Am I supposed to say that’s good?”
I consider that. “Maybe. I don’t know. None of it feels good right now.”
He runs his hands up and down his face.
The baby feels like an elephant in the room. At some point, I suspect it’ll feel like an elephant inside me too. It’s such an odd feeling to know that there’s a child in there, in my stomach, when I had no idea.
It doesn’t feel real. I don’t feel connected to it yet, which would probably worry me if I could stay awake long enough to think about it.
I open my mouth to just sputter something into the room, to take the pressure off the situation. Maybe if I just bring up the baby, things will get easier?
It takes longer for words to fall past my lips than usual. That’s disappointing.
And unfortunate.
“I’m sorry, Dara,” Wade says before I can get a word out.
“For what?”
He tugs on his hair before raising his face to mine.
The storm brewing behind his beautiful eyes is wild and intense.
My mouth goes dry as I watch him fight an internal battle.
I place a hand on my stomach and catch myself. Slowly, I drop it to the mattress.
He shifts in his seat. His hands wring together as if he’s unable to keep himself from touching me. And out of all of the things I’ve endured with him since the accident—this is the worst.
His refusal to touch me.
It’s so many steps in the wrong direction. The Wade of the late couldn’t stop touching me as if he needed the connection as much as I did.
As much as I do.
He held me at night. Reached for me in the morning. Wrapped his arms around me as soon as he saw me. It wasn’t always just about the kiss that would usually follow or the ass grab that was also frequent.
It was about the connection. I could feel it in the way he nestled me against his chest. I could see it in his eyes … just like I can see now that he’s not going to do it today.
Tears well inside my eyes. I’m surprised I have any more left to shed.
“Are you here alone?” he asks. “I thought Rusti was staying with you.”
“She had to go to work. I’m fine, you know. Small broken bone. Cracked rib. Mostly just super sore.”