Someone Like You: Wild Widows Series, Book 1

by Marie Force

  He’s back for a few minutes when he accepts a FaceTime call from his mother, and Maeve’s cute little face pops up on the screen. “Wanna see him.”

  He smiles at her bossy tone. “Roni is feeding him right now, but I’ll show you as soon as they’re done.”

  Maeve has a million questions about the baby, about when she can see him and whether he can be her baby brother.

  Derek looks at me with wide eyes when she asks that.

  “Of course he can,” I say. “He’ll be very lucky to have you as his big sister, Maeve.” When he finishes feeding, he’s knocked out. I adjust my gown to cover my breast and situate him so she can easily see his face.

  “He so tiny,” she says on a long exhale.

  “Yes, he is,” I respond. “We have to be very gentle with him for a while, but soon enough, he’ll be chasing you around.”

  “I take care of him,” she says solemnly.

  I swallow the huge lump that forms in my throat. “He’ll like that, sweetie.”

  “How’re you feeling, Roni?” Derek’s mom asks me.

  “Like I got hit by a bus, but I’m told that’s normal.”

  “It is, and thankfully, it doesn’t last too long.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “They’re about ready to discharge Roni and Dylan,” Derek says. “We’ll check in with you later.”

  “Daddy come home!”

  “Tomorrow, pumpkin. One more night with Grandma and Grandpa, and then you can come home, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you,” she says, pointing at him.

  “Be good for Grandma and Grandpa.”

  “I be good.”

  They say their goodbyes, and he ends the call. “She’s so excited.”

  “She’s adorable. I can’t wait for her to meet Dylan tomorrow.”

  “What she said about him being her little brother… I didn’t expect her to say that.”

  “I love that she said that. How lucky will Dylan be to have Maeve as his big sister?”

  “I’m feeling all the feels here, Veronica,” he confesses with an adorably shy smile.

  “Me, too. All the feels.”

  “And that’s okay? Are you ready for that?”

  “Yes and no. It’s such a strange place to be. It’s wonderful and terrible at the same time.”

  “I know, sweetheart. I know.”

  “That helps. That you get it.”

  “I do. And what I know for certain is that we’re both still here for some reason, and we found each other for a reason.”

  “Are we having that conversation?” I ask, smiling.

  “We’re starting it. To be continued after we get your little guy home.”

  I tingle in anticipation. Among all the terrible things, a kernel of hope blossoms within me even as I continue to intensely grieve the loss of my Patrick. It’s like trying to walk on a teeter-totter while balancing the hope and the grief and the overabundance of love for people who are here and one who isn’t. It’s a tricky task, but one I have no choice but to undertake.

  I didn’t go looking for a new relationship. Well, I didn’t intend for that to happen when I started following Derek in the neighborhood. Our friendship has evolved organically into something more, even if that wasn’t something I would’ve thought I wanted until I had it.

  People who don’t understand are going to judge. The secondary losses are almost as painful as the loss of Patrick was—friends I thought would never leave my side have all but disappeared. People who were there in the beginning have gone back to their own lives, having done what they could to help me through my tragedy. I don’t blame them for that. I really don’t, but I also know now that the future is mine to chart as I see fit. No one else can decide that course for me and Dylan. Only I can.

  I have a whole new group of people in my life, due to of our shared experiences, and I’m ever more thankful to them.

  All this is on my mind as Derek drives us home. I’m in the back seat with Dylan, who is sound asleep and missing his first car ride.

  I love Derek. I still love Patrick, and I always will.

  Who am I now? A mother to a fatherless child, a wife to a man who’s no longer physically present and now in a relationship with another man and his daughter, who’ve become the center of my new life.

  I glance at my phone and see no response from any of Patrick’s family, which hurts me more than I care to admit. Aren’t they happy to hear Patrick’s son has arrived, not to mention on his birthday? Sure, the date of his arrival probably made it hurt a little more for them as it did for me, too, but I’m so confused by their lack of response and have no idea how to interpret their silence.

  22

  Roni

  Derek carries the baby seat up the stairs to my apartment. By the time I get there, I’m completely exhausted. My legs feel like rubber noodles, and my boobs are already bursting with the need to feed Dylan again.

  When I’m settled on the sofa with a baby who’s still sound asleep, I take advantage of the opportunity to text the photo to Sam and Lilia. Dylan Patrick Connolly arrived a month early yesterday, on his father’s birthday. I’m sorry for the short notice, but I guess I’m on maternity leave.

  Sam responds right away. Oh, Roni! He’s beautiful. And born on Patrick’s birthday? That’s so amazing. Nick and I are delighted for you and can’t wait to meet Dylan!

  Congratulations, Roni! Lilia says. Harry and I are thrilled to hear Dylan Patrick is here, and on his dad’s birthday. Please don’t worry about work. Enjoy every minute with your bundle of joy.

  I send a similar text to a bunch of other friends of mine and Patrick’s and am flooded with responses from everyone.

  Except his family.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I tell Derek. “Should I call them?”

  “Why don’t you call his parents? You’ll feel better after you talk to them.”

  Before I can overthink it to death, I put through the call to Patrick’s mother. It rings four times before she picks up. “Roni.”

  “Hi there. I was just making sure you got my text about the baby coming early—and on Patrick’s birthday.”

  “We did. Congratulations.”

  I want to ask her why she didn’t reply to the text, but the words are stuck in my throat.

  “We wondered why we didn’t hear from you on Patrick’s birthday.”

  I’m stricken by those words. “I was… I was having a baby.”

  “Yes, I realize that now.”

  Her cool tone is so far removed from the way she used to speak to me that I barely recognize her. “Are you angry with me, Susan?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why does it seem as if you are?”

  “I’m not. This is all just very hard for us.”

  “It is for me, too. I just had my dead husband’s baby on his birthday without him there to share in the joy with me. I think I understand how hard this is.”

  “But you have someone new now.”

  “I have many new friends who’ve traveled this same journey and have helped me through it.”

  “And one of them is extra special to you.”

  “That has nothing to do with the grief I feel for Patrick every minute of every day!”

  “It seems soon to us for you to move on with someone new.”

  I’m so flabbergasted that I don’t know how to respond. “I haven’t moved on from him, Susan. If you knew how much I’ve suffered over his loss, you’d never say such a cruel thing to me.”

  “It’s just how we see it.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I’m going to go take care of my son now.”

  “We’d like to see him.”

  I want to tell her to go to hell. She’s not coming near me or my son, but out of respect for Patrick—and only him—I don’t do that. “I, ah, sure.”

  “We’ll be in touch.”

  “Okay.”

&n
bsp; I end the call without saying goodbye or anything else. What more is there to say?

  Derek sits in front of me, on the coffee table Patrick and I bought at an estate sale five years ago. “Whatever she said, you know the truth. She doesn’t know. You do. You’re the only one who’s been inside this journey, Roni. Only you.”

  “She says it’s too soon for me to move on with someone else.”

  His expression hardens. “She doesn’t get to decide that for you or for anyone, and you were right when you told her it was cruel for her to say such a thing to you. You haven’t moved on from Patrick. You’ve moved forward because you had no choice but to do that, and you’ve brought him with you every step of the way.”

  “Yes, I have,” I say softly. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “No, you certainly haven’t. You’ve been respectful of him, his memory, them. They have no right to do this to you. I have to think, from what you’ve shared about them, that this might be her grief talking.”

  “It’s not fair.”

  “No, it certainly isn’t, but you can’t take this on. You can’t let it be a setback for you. Not when you have Dylan to care for. He needs you.” He wraps both his hands around mine. “When she’s had some time to think about what she just said, I’m sure she’s going to be very sorry.”

  “Even if that’s how she really feels?”

  “Even if. Her feelings are not your responsibility. You were a wonderful, loving, devoted partner to her son for years. You made him very happy, and she had to have seen that. You honor Patrick’s memory every single day with the way you’re courageously living your life when it would’ve been so much easier to curl up in a ball and give up.”

  “It would’ve been easier, but that’s not who I am.”

  “No, it isn’t. You’re full of optimism and joy, and nothing, not even the worst tragedy imaginable, can dim the light that shines in you.”

  “I feel like all I ever do is thank you.”

  “You don’t need to thank me.”

  “Yes, I really do, because if you hadn’t been here to tell me what I needed to hear, what she said would’ve taken me off the deep end.”

  “I’m here any time you need a reality check.”

  I crook my finger at him to bring him closer.

  He barely breathes as he leans in.

  I wrap my free hand around his neck and kiss him. Just a soft, sweet, simple kiss on the lips that’s been an awfully long time coming—and is actually anything but simple. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

  “Me, too.” He rests his forehead against mine. “I’m sorry she upset you. She had no right to do that.”

  My phone rings, which ends the moment between us. “It’s my mom. Hey.”

  “Are you guys home?”

  “We are. What about you?”

  “Just got here and were going to come see you, if that’s okay.”

  “Yes, come on over. I’m sorry you had to cut your trip short.”

  “We’re not sorry. We can’t wait to meet our grandson. Do you need anything?”

  “I have no idea.” I can’t seem to remember past yesterday and don’t have a clue what I’ve got for food in the house.

  She laughs. “We’ll stop at the store on the way. Be there shortly.”

  “Thanks, Mom. See you soon.” I end the call and look down at my son, who’s sleeping through everything on his first day out of the hospital. “Does this mean he’s going to be up all night?”

  “Probably.”

  “I was afraid you might say that.” I feel shy around him now, after the way I brazenly kissed him. But I’m not sorry I did it.

  “How about I run and get us some lunch?”

  “I am kind of hungry.”

  “I’ll hit the deli down the street. What do you feel like?”

  “Some soup maybe?”

  “You got it. I’ll be right back.”

  * * *

  Derek

  I’m fucking fuming. I can’t believe Roni’s mother-in-law would say such an awful thing to her after everything she’s been through—and especially after she just had her late husband’s baby. Does the woman have any concept of what an ordeal Roni has endured? Or how strong she is? I want to punch something, I’m so pissed.

  She was so happy after Dylan arrived and so excited to bring him home. How dare anyone do anything to take that away from her?

  I’m so spun up that I decide to take an extra minute to calm down by sitting outside the deli and breathing in the fresh air.

  A waiter comes over. “Hi there. I’m Justin. What can I get you to drink?”

  “I’m actually interested in takeout.”

  “Sure, I can help with that.”

  I order a roast beef sandwich for myself along with a bowl of chicken noodle and a grilled cheese for Roni. “Can you also toss in a couple of chocolate chip cookies?”

  “You got it. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

  “I’d love a coffee with cream. Thanks.”

  “Coming right up.”

  While I wait for the food, I decide I need someone to talk to about how I’m feeling before I actually act on the desire to punch something, so I call Iris.

  “Hi there! How’s our girl?”

  “She’s doing great. She and Dylan are home and resting.”

  “I’m so glad he’s here, and it all went well.”

  “Me, too. But you won’t believe how her mother-in-law is behaving.” I fill her in on how Roni sent the text that went unanswered and then what happened when she called the woman.

  “Oh gosh,” Iris says with a sigh. “I hate that she said that.”

  “I know! Me, too. I’m so pissed. Roni was having such a great day. She’s so happy about the baby, and he’s just adorable. Now she’s all upset about what her mother-in-law said, and the worst part is that nothing has even happened between us.”

  “Hasn’t it, though?”

  Those three little words cut straight to the chase. I huff out a laugh. “Leave it to you to get right to the point.”

  “Who among us has time for bullshit?”

  “None of us.”

  “You love her.”

  “Yes.”

  “She loves you.”

  “I think she might.”

  “You were the one she wanted with her when her son was born, Derek.”

  “Yes,” I say gruffly. “It was an incredible experience.”

  “Trust me. She loves you, or you wouldn’t have been there. And I think it’s wonderful you were there.”

  “This is all so…”

  “Amazing and difficult?”

  I drop my head into my hands. “Both those things.”

  “But so, so worth it, right? To feel that way again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I think you two will make for a fantastic couple. We all do. You both glow when you’re together. The other day, Brielle said you look at Roni the way Brielle’s husband looked at her.”

  I’m so choked up to hear that, I can barely breathe.

  “What matters, Derek, is the two of you and what you’re building together and with your children. I think it’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks, Iris. I really needed to hear that.”

  “Stay the course. You both know you haven’t done anything wrong. You’ve found comfort and hope in each other, and that’s a very special thing after what you’ve both endured.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Justin returns with my coffee and takeout bag.

  I hand him my credit card. “I’d better get back to Roni and Dylan,” I say to Iris.

  “I love his name.”

  “I do, too. It suits him.”

  “Give Roni my love and take some for you, too, my friend.”

  “Back atcha, Iris. You’re the best.”

  “I’m here if you guys need anything.”

  “Thanks again.”

  I end the call, thankful for the spec
ial friends I’ve made in the widow community. While I’ve leaned heavily on my parents, brothers and close friends like Nick, Andy and Harry, my widowed friends have formed the foundation on top of which I’ve built a new life for myself and Maeve.

  As I’m walking back to Roni’s, I receive a text from Adrian. Heard the baby arrived. Congrats to Roni—and to you. I predict you’re going to play an important role in young Dylan’s life, and I wish you all the best.

  Thanks so much, friend. Dylan can’t wait to meet you and Xavier.

  Adrian’s message touches me deeply. That our friends are rallying not only around Roni but around me, too, is so sweet.

  My love for Roni has only grown over these last few months of close friendship, of shared dinners, of gatherings with friends and family, of creating something from the ashes of both our lives and building something new and important. When she kissed me earlier, I let go of all the worries I’ve carried about whether she and I are in the same place, or if this is going to turn into something more.

  I’ve suspected for quite some time that she wants the same things I do, but she’s taking the time she needs to be sure she’s ready to move forward with me. In the meantime, I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve given her the space to cope with the first year without her husband while preparing to have their child.

  Off in the distance was the baby’s due date, and I’ve sort of hoped that once we got past that milestone, we might have time to breathe and figure out the answers to the unasked questions. Everything between us is so good, so easy, so perfect. I just hope Roni’s mother-in-law hasn’t ruined that for her—and for me.

  As I’m approaching Roni’s front stairs, a black SUV comes to a stop outside. A man I recognize from the White House staff emerges, holding a huge bouquet of flowers and a box.

  “Hi there. I’m Derek Kavanaugh. Are you looking for Roni Connolly?”

  “Ah, yes, of course, Mr. Kavanaugh. Yes, I’m looking for Mrs. Connolly. The president and first lady asked me to deliver these gifts to celebrate the birth of her son.”

  “I’d be happy to take them up to her.”

  “Oh, thank you very much, sir. Please give her the best regards of the entire staff and our sincere congratulations.” He hands me the flowers, the box and another card. “We all signed that.”