I unlocked the door, stepping inside our house before I even knew what I was doing. Not giving myself the chance to change my mind. I debated on actually going through with this for the past two months. Not sure if I could handle all the emotions and feelings I knew would come from stepping over the invisible line of our relationship. Continuing to battle my heart over my mind.
I didn’t see his bike outside, so I knew he was at his shop. It was the talk of the town, even making the local papers. Stating, Military veteran and reformed biker outlaw was now a law-abiding citizen. Building one of a kind motorcycles from scratch. Bringing people in from all over just to see his next creation at his new shop downtown named, Pippin’s. I couldn’t have been more proud of him. Always knowing he was capable of so damn much. Never giving himself enough credit for anything in life.
I walked through our house for the first time, taking it all in. From the furniture we picked out together, to all the photos on the walls. I had no idea he had purchased any of this, yet. He never told me, never let me know what he had planned. It was all dreams, fantasizing about the day we could finally be together. I couldn’t believe my eyes, seeing the life we talked about and planned for behind all these walls.
Our future.
I knew the layout of the house because he showed me the blueprints, wanting me to be just as excited as he was about the home he purchased for us.
For our family.
Including a baby girl who wasn’t his.
My feet gravitated toward the room closest to ours as if I was being pulled by a string. Reeling me into the unknown. I didn't fight it. I went willingly, not sure what to expect, but needing to find out nonetheless. Nothing would stop my feet from moving toward the room we had designed the most out of the entire house. Spending hours upon hours looking through magazines and catalogs, wanting to make it absolutely perfect for her.
“Oh my God,” I breathed out, stopping dead in my tracks when I was standing in front of the room that was supposed to be Maddie’s nursery.
Exactly the way we wanted to decorate it, from the color of the walls to the crib, the accents, and changing table, even the scattered stuffed animals strategically placed around the room. There wasn’t one thing that we didn’t pick out together that wasn’t already in the nursery.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t move.
I could barely even stand.
My eyes pooled with tears, taking in the memories flooding my mind. Each one unfolding in front of me, playing out one by one as I made my way around the room. My fingers lightly skimming across everything, needing to make sure it was real and not a figment of my imagination.
My healing mind playing tricks on me.
“Pippin, baby girl’s room cannot just be pink,” Creed spoke, turning the page as we laid against the headboard on his bed.
I turned the page back and circled the light pink rocking chair that he blew over. “Why? Pink is the best color in the world, and it’s not even the same pink, it’s a totally different shade.”
“I like this one.” He pointed to the white rocker next to mine, taking the marker out of my hand and circling it.
“White is so boring!”
“How ‘bout we buy the white chair and you can pick out one of those fluffy, pointless, fuckin’ pillows you seem to love to put on it.”
I bit my lip, smirking. “Fine.”
He smiled and crossed out the pink chair with a big black X.
My fingers gently glided along the soft bedding in the crib.
“I like all this princess shit,” Creed stated, circling the pink and white bedding with tiaras and castles. “You’re my fuckin’ queen, and she’ll be my princess.”
I kissed him, straddling his lap, beaming. “I love you, too.”
I opened one of the drawers, seeing all the magazines and catalogs he had brought me throughout the weeks of my pregnancy. I reached in grabbing them, revealing something I never in a million years thought he had kept.
Fresh tears filled my eyes as I took in the two stacks of envelopes, rubber banded together. The first stack I instantly recognized, they were the letters I had written him during his years in the Army. The ones that all went unanswered. I always thought he had thrown them away, but that didn't stop me from sending one every chance I got, wanting him to know someone back home was thinking about him. Praying for him.
But mostly just waiting for him to come home.
Each one was opened, crinkled, and torn like he had read them a thousand times. Memorizing all my words that I had written only for him.
It was the second set of envelopes which really caught my attention. They were all sealed with stamps, addressed to Miss Mia Ryder, AKA Pippin in his barely legible handwriting.
I smiled through my tears that were falling full force at that point. So many emotions were rushing over me, overwhelming me in the best possible way. He wrote me a letter for every one I sent him, replying to all my questions, all my thoughts, all my love for him.
I grabbed everything from the drawer, bringing it over to the rocking chair with me, taking a seat in the place that would have contained all our happy memories of the baby girl we lost. I imagined what it would have felt like to actually rock Maddie right here, in my arms as I stared at her adoringly.
“I can’t wait to see you in that rocker, babe, holdin’ baby girl,” Creed rasped, getting down on his knees to kiss my belly.
I turned a few more pages, laughing at some of the ridiculous things Creed had circled like the onesies that said, ‘I love my daddy and his tattoos,’ or ‘If I look funny it’s because my daddy dressed me’ and my personal favorite, ‘My daddy owns a gun, any questions?’ He always thought of Maddie as his own. No matter what.
I flipped a few more pages when I suddenly stopped. My heart started pounding out of my chest, my ears began to ring, echoing all around the room when I saw there was a picture of Maddie and me placed in between the pages.
I gasped, my shaking hand instantly went up to my mouth in shock of what was in front of my eyes. “Oh my God,” I whispered to myself.
My eyes immediately filled with more tears. There was no controlling them from pouring out of me like a stream running down a mountain side. Cascading along my cheeks to the magazines below. Shedding every last tear I had pent up since the day I woke up in that hospital bed.
I never got see what she looked like.
I never got to hold her.
I never got to feel her skin against mine.
But I did...