“Because,” I snap while I start to pace the room. “Because you’re the one thing that could fuck up this whole thing.”
“Me?” Sadie points to herself. “How could I possibly be the reason to fuck up anything between you and Emma? First of all, I had no clue anything was even going on between you two. Second of all, I’ve moved on, Tucker, so Emma should have nothing to worry about in that department, unless . . .”
The way she trails her sentence off grates my nerves. “Unless what?”
She takes a step forward and I take a step back. She sighs and continues, “Unless you haven’t moved on.”
“I have,” I answer quickly. There is doubt in my mind that I have. I don’t look at Sadie and wish she were still mine. I can’t. I feel like my heart has moved on but not my head. Isn’t it usually the reverse? Isn’t it the heart that takes longer to heal? If that’s the case, then why am I still all caught up in my head, like there’s a giant roadblock there, stopping me from making any goddamn progress?
“If you have, then there shouldn’t be any worry in Emma’s eyes.” Sadie gestures to the pictures on the mantle and then around the living room. “This seems like a hell of a lot more than just having fun. And from the way Emma has been MIA lately, I’m going to assume what’s going on between you two means a lot more to her than the casual fling you portrayed.”
“It means more to me too,” I say softly and pull on my hair. “Fuck.”
“Does she know that?”
Frustrated and angry at myself, I direct that anger at Sadie. “I really don’t need a fucking counseling session from you right now, Sadie.”
Not taking my shit, she steps forward and pokes me in the chest. “It sure as hell seems like it. Tell me, if I went into the second bedroom, would a crib still be in there?”
My eyes snap to hers, rage blasting behind my lids. “Go ahead, Sadie, fucking talk about the baby we lost, see where that gets you.”
“You can’t keep living in the past, Tucker.”
“I was doing fine before you showed up.”
“Were you? Or were you just pretending you were fine? How can you ever be fine, Tucker, if you still have the past resting in a bedroom a few short feet away from Emma’s room? Does she even know what’s behind that door?”
I shake my head, hating myself, hating how fucked up I am, hating how Sadie’s miscarriage still hollows me out into a shell of nothing every time I think about it. Every time I think about her.
“How do you think she feels then? You devalued what you two have in front of me, the person she’s probably most terrified of when it comes to you because of our history, and you still have things hidden from her?”
Not to mention fucking rule number six. Shit. I’ve fucked this all up.
“Fuck,” I mumble and take a seat in one of the armchairs. Sadie sits across from me on the couch and places her hand on my knee.
“Tucker, I care about you, and all I want is for you to find peace and be happy. It seems like Emma is your happy, but the peace, that’s within you. You need to find acceptance and move on, until you can do that, you can’t fully be with Emma. And I love that girl. She doesn’t deserve to be strung along, only being handed half of you.”
She’s right, I hate that she’s fucking right. But something I desperately wanted was taken away from me. How do I just become okay with that? Find peace in that?
“How did you do it?” I ask, Sadie, my eyes trained on the floor in front of me.
“How did I do what?”
“How did you get over the loss of our baby? How did you move on?”
“I don’t ever think you get over it, Tucker. Our baby is a piece of you that will always rest in your heart. Sometimes you have to look at it in a different light. We weren’t ready and our relationship wasn’t healthy. Maybe there was some powerful cosmic force that saw we weren’t prepared mentally. It wasn’t our time and that’s what we have to focus on.”
“I was ready,” I say on a whisper. “I was ready to be an amazing fucking dad.” My throat closes up just thinking about how I had it all planned out in my head. How I was going to get up in the middle of the night and help with feedings, how I was going to be master diaper changer, how I was committed to giving our baby a healthy and loving home.
I was going to be better than her.
I was going to be so much better than her . . . my mother.
I was going to prove that bad parenting isn’t hereditary, that you can break from what’s expected of you, rise above it all, and be the antithesis of neglect and hate.
“You still are going to be a great dad, Tucker. You’re young, and have a lifetime ahead of you to show the world the thoughtful, genuine, and caring man you’ve become despite the home you grew up in. Be sad about the baby we lost, but don’t let it dictate the rest of your life.”
Her words ring true in my head. That’s what I’ve been doing. But how? How do I prevent that from happening? The loss of my dad dictated both my physical and emotional poverty. The loss of a mother’s nurturing hand in my life forced me into a job I love and am damn good at. The loss of Sadie meant I lost my best friend and many past connections.
That loss allowed my soul to meet my Emma.
Losses aren’t all bad. In fact, losses can bring about good. Different but good.
Be sad about the baby we lost, but don’t let it dictate the rest of your life. That’s what Sadie’s done. I need to accept what we lost. To focus on my future. No, not my future. If there is one thing that is abundantly clear now, it’s our future I want. The one I want with Emma. The one I hope I can rectify with Emma. I want us.
Because there is one thing I know for certain. Losing Sadie and the baby crippled me for a time, but losing Emma will destroy me.
***
Sadie left a little while ago. I took my time cleaning up the broken pot and locking up the house before I went to Emma. I needed to get my head on straight before I talked to her, before I apologized for being a total ass.
There isn’t a light shining under the crack of her door so I look at the time on my phone. Past ten, shit. Unsure if I should knock, I waver between what to do. If she’s sleeping, will she want to wake up and have a conversation? But if I wait until the morning, will that be too late? I’m thinking the latter is not the way I want to go so I knock. When I don’t hear her answer, I open the door a few inches and peek inside.
I was right, she doesn’t have a light turned on and over on her bed, she’s in a curled-up ball, her back facing me.
Needing to make things right, I walk over to her bed and sit on the side, pressing my hand on her hip. She startles for a second but then doesn’t make a move after that.
“Emma,” I whisper, hoping not to scare her too much.
“What, Tucker?” she replies, her voice groggy.
“I’m sorry if I woke you up, but I really want to talk to you about tonight.”