Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series)

by Laura Ashley Gallagher

  “I didn’t know. I promise,” I insist, my lips trembling.

  He shrugs, his features suddenly awash with calm. “I guess I’ll never know.”

  God, even I couldn’t make sense of the coincidence. My knowledge of our situation isn’t an hour old, but a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to get my head around it.

  “Fuck!” he roars and his voice echoes around the house, hitting me repeatedly. I jump, my body becoming stiff as his hands sweep over the table, causing my teaching folders and plates to crash to the floor. His fists lean against the table, his shoulders rounded and lifting with each harsh breath. I can’t help my feet from moving towards him. For selfish reasons, I have to touch him. He flinches when I gently press my fingers to his back, but he doesn’t push me away. Instead, a sigh escapes him.

  He moves around slowly. My hand brushes across the tense muscles of his shoulder, then his bicep, until I can fist my fingers in his shirt at his chest.

  When he curls his fingers under my chin, raising my head to look at him, I want to see his heat, his love, his understanding, but I see none of those things. His eyes flicker with unrelenting defiance, and when he glowers down at me, it doesn’t bring the fervour I’m used to, but indifference that makes my blood go to acid.

  “You will never take her, Mandy. Do you understand me?”

  My hand falls from his chest, slapping against my thigh.

  “I don’t want to take her from your sister or you. I promise. I only want a chance to get to know her.”

  His hands come up to either side of my head as he presses his forehead against mine, and I would do anything to make the rest of the world disappear so I could stay this way, with his fingers in my hair and his lips grazing against mine. We stay like that for long minutes, but it’s not long enough.

  “I need to leave, Mandy.”

  “Please don’t go, Alex,” I whisper against his mouth, my fingers gripping tighter to his arms.

  He presses his lips gently against my forehead. “Why did it have to be you?” he whispers.

  Why did it have to be you, Alex?

  And just like that, as he steps away, I can feel the final slip—like one last finger hanging on a ledge before letting go.

  His absence is staggering, and when he opens the door, he gives one final pained look over his shoulder before stepping out and shutting it.

  The emptiness takes hold. My knees buckle and I crumble to the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I feel his presence before I see him, but my breathing remains calm, and I don’t feel the usual tingle on my skin.

  “You found her.” He attempts to reach out and touch me, but he hesitates and rests his hand back on the sand.

  I shake my head and cross my arms to protect myself from the bitter breeze stinging my skin.

  “I wasn’t looking for her,” I correct.

  He huffs like it makes him angry. “You’ve been looking for her since the day she left your arms. You searched for her in crowds, in the children who entered your classroom, at every little girl with black hair like mine, or dark blonde curls like yours. You never stopped looking for her.”

  I turn so I can look at him, but not even Nick can bring me comfort. “I didn’t look hard enough, and I should’ve never been in the position to look for her in the first place. She should have been with me.” My voice breaks and my throat burns.

  “You did what you thought was right. You gave her the best opportunities. That’s love.”

  I stand, frustrated, and I aim my anger at him. If he hadn’t left. If he stayed alive and spoke all the words he never said. Everything would be different.

  “You should have stayed,” I roar, my heart pounding in my chest, and resentment making my fingers ball into a fist.

  He pushes onto his feet. “You made your choice, Mandy. She was ours. We made her with nothing but love, and you gave her to somebody else.”

  Sucking in a lung full of air, my mind races with thoughts I can’t decipher, processing his words that hurt so much I feel myself bleeding. But he’s right. Handing our baby girl over to somebody else to love was all on me.

  Tears spill, but I refuse to wipe them. It’s no use, more will fall in their place.

  “I’m losing it again, Nick,” I breathe.

  He smiles the smile that makes everything feel okay. “You’re not losing it.”

  He doesn’t understand.

  “I’m not talking about my mind. I’ll keep it together this time, for her. It’s love. I’m losing love all over again. Everywhere I turn, I lose it.”

  His shoulders sag and he stuffs his hands in his front pockets while taking a step toward me. “But you always find it again so easily, because you, Mandy Parker, are the easiest person to love.” He takes my hand in his. “Do me a favour?” he asks.

  I don’t think I have it in me anymore, but I agree with a nod.

  Pressing his cheek against mine, he whispers, “Fight. Fight for your little girl. Don’t give up. And when you’ve won that fight, go ahead and fight for him.” My heart stops. “Because you love him, Mandy. Fight for them both.”

  ***

  Sometimes there are snippets in life, brief moments of calm. Like after a storm, when the clouds clear and the smell of rain hangs in the air. The breeze is cooler and cleaner, and somewhere, there’s a fresh start happening.

  Sometimes that happens to people.

  I’m not one of those people.

  I was carried away by the storm. I watched the sunshine from a distance while my heart took a battering of thunder, my eyes cried the rain, and in my heart, I got brief lightning flashes of memories to torment my soul in spectacular outbursts.

  I’m unsure how long I’ve been lying here, curled up on the bathroom floor. But it’s the only place I found comfort in the dark.

  When Garry and Claire burst into the bathroom, it’s bright outside.

  “Mandy,” Claire cries, rushing to my side.

  Garry pulls me up from my shoulders so my back is against the wall. He brushes his hand down my face as Claire tugs me into her arms. “We were so worried. We’ve been calling you all morning.”

  I don’t know where my phone is.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice sounding small and exhausted from crying all night. Then I realize they’re here. “How do you know?” I glance between them both.

  Garry’s Adam’s apple bounces in his throat as he swallows hard. “Alex called me.”

  God, my heart is twisting just hearing his name.

  When life hurts, it’s easier to go back to the familiar. To flip a switch and go back to being numb.

  As if reading my thoughts, Claire pulls away from me, brushing tears from her eyes. “Don’t go back there, sweetie. Please don’t go back there.”

  A sob breaks through my chest. “I don’t know how to stay away.”

  “Garry, will you come to help me make some tea?” Sally is standing at the door. She offers me a small smile. I try to smile back. “Give the girls a minute alone.” She winks at him, and after he kisses the top of my head, he leaves and closes the door.

  “What happened last night?” Claire asks, running her fingers through the strands of hair on my shoulders.

  I shake my head and shrug. “The inevitable happened. When I thought of telling Alex about Chloe—I mean Ava—I knew he’d be surprised, but Jesus, I never saw this coming. You should have seen the way he looked at me. He hates me and I can’t blame him for it.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  She’s my friend and as a friend, it’s the right thing to say, but she’s wrong.

  “He does. I’ve ruined everything. I don’t know if I’ll ever get to see her again.” I bite down on my trembling lip to distract myself from the burn in my chest.

  “But you got to see her, Mandy. After all these years of wishing, you got to see your little girl.”

  I always told my friends, seeing my baby, just once, would be enough.

&nbs
p; “I lied, Claire.”

  She rubs my arm. “About what?”

  “It’s not enough.”

  It will never be enough. How could it? I’ve longed for the little girl with bouncing black curls for six years. I can’t go back there again.

  But I’m not her mother—not in the way she always needed and if her actual mother decides she doesn’t want me involved in Ava’s life, I will have to accept it. But in accepting that decision, I will have to welcome back the darkness. There isn’t one without the other. They’re perfect companions in misery.

  “Let’s get you into the shower. You can freshen up. We’ll have some tea and try to figure some of this out.”

  I don’t want tea. I want Ava and I want Alex’s arms around me. And I’ll never figure this out. I want to go back to lying on the cold floor until I can’t feel anything again. But my friends don’t need to worry about me any more than they are, so I oblige Claire, and she busies herself turning on the shower and getting fresh towels.

  I wash quickly because I’m afraid my legs will give way and I’ll crumble to the floor. I’ve never felt so zapped of everything—of emotions, energy, thoughts. There are so many thoughts, I don’t have time to focus on one, and my head is fuzzy.

  Everything is so fuzzy.

  When I dress, I check my phone. Nothing back from the six voicemails and countless texts I sent Alex. He needs space. I get it.

  I’m halfway through a now cold cup of tea when I realize there’s chatter around me. Their laughs are forced, smiles sympathetic, and small talk too normal.

  “Garry, you spoke to Alex?” I blurt, putting silence to their conversation.

  “Mandy,” he pleads, frowning across the table.

  “You spoke to him, Garry,” I persist, ignoring the tears coming again.

  He takes a deep breath and glances at Sally, but she doesn’t have the answers he is seeking.

  “He called me this morning. He asked if it’s true—if you had a child. I think hearing the same story from me made it real for him.” He gulps, searching my face as if he doesn’t know if he should say more. “He asked if we’d check on you. He said you’ll need your friends.”

  He wasn’t wrong and because I need to torture myself further, I ask, “How did he sound?” I wish he would answer my calls so I could hear his voice for myself.

  “Don’t do this to yourself.”

  “Please, Garry.” I need to know.

  He throws his eyes up and shakes his head. “I don’t know, Mandy. Like you, I suppose. He’s shocked.”

  I hate that he’s hurting, and I can’t be the one to comfort him. Instead, I’m causing the pain.

  When my phone rings on the counter, my heart hammers so hard I think it will come right out of my chest. Even when it’s not his name on the screen, I can’t help but cling to a shred of hope.

  “Hello?”

  There’s silence, a long breath, and then, “Mandy. Hi. It’s Lydia Hale.”

  My fingers tighten around the phone and I grip the counter to steady myself.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I’ve called. I got your number from Alex.”

  My stomach becomes tight. “Of course not.”

  “Look,” she starts, “I’m as lost as anyone else here, but I think we should talk. I mean, if that’s what you want?”

  “I do,” I say quickly. I would take any opportunity to explain myself and to apologize. She deserves that much face-to-face.

  “I was hoping we could meet up. Ava is here, and she knows nothing. I don’t want to confuse things, and this isn’t a chat we can have in a café or restaurant. Would you be willing to have me call to your house tomorrow afternoon?”

  If she asked me to fly to the other side of the world, I would do it.

  Anything.

  “You are more than welcome here. Thank you, Lydia. I don’t know what to say.”

  “We can say whatever we need tomorrow.”

  By the time we say goodbye, a small beam of light breaks through the darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I cried at least twenty-one of the last twenty-four hours. I cried for Ava, and the years I missed. I cried for Nick, and how vast his absence was again. I cried for Alex, and the hurt I’ve caused. I cried for Lydia, and the amount of anxiety she must have felt about meeting me: this strange woman who gave birth to her daughter. And I cried a little—okay, a lot—for myself. I wallowed in self-pity and I couldn’t find the energy within to drag myself out of it. It’s too heavy. It weighs me down until I’m drowning in it. But three hours ago, after my sixth cup of coffee throughout the night, I stood, dried my face, and cleaned.

  I cleaned until my fingers blistered, and then I cleaned some more. I cleaned every surface, even the ones not visible, but I wanted the place spotless before Lydia called. My house wasn’t dirty. I gave it a thorough clean just days ago, but it wasn’t my-child’s-adoptive-mother-is-calling-and-I-need-to-make-a-good-impression clean. Then, I realized the entire house smelled like bleach, so I cleaned it again with lemon spray, opened every window, and lit some scented candles only to blow them out again because they’re a fire risk to six-year-olds. I didn’t know what else to do with myself.

  Once I finished, I showered, dressed, and made myself presentable. As presentable as I could be, with bags under my eyes the size of suitcases and a red nose from wiping it so often.

  God, I’m a mess.

  I didn’t contact Alex again. I’ve taken his non-response as a hint to leave him alone. Alex isn’t a man to let his pride get in the way and he doesn’t hold back. If he wanted to talk to me, he would. For now, I’d have to hold on to hope, he’d someday decide to do that because if I didn’t hope, I’d lose it all over again.

  I’ve gone over the words I’d like to say in my head, but it’s no use. I don’t want this to be rehearsed. We’ve both waited for this moment. She deserves honest answers. But it also feels like I’m about to attend the most important job interview of my life.

  I sit at the breakfast counter, ignoring how quiet my house is without Alex walking around, or coming up behind me to kiss the sensitive spot below my ear. I even miss Bandit’s panting as he sniffs for food, or as he snores in the corner. I wish I had work to go to or something to distract myself. But there’s still a week left of the summer break, so I’m left with my thoughts.

  Wonderful.

  My phone vibrates with a text from my mother.

  Mom: I think Suzie might be pregnant.

  What?

  I gulp, the blood draining from my face.

  Hello to you too, Mother.

  Behind my shaking hands and stuttered breath, excitement rises in my chest. I can’t call Mom to ask why she thinks that. Lydia will be here any minute. I haven’t said anything to them about Ava. I can’t get my head around it. I need more answers before I drop that bombshell.

  And how do I explain to my parents I haven’t gone cuckoo again, and I wasn’t stalking Alex for over four months to get to my daughter? That’s what anyone would think. Shit, I think that’s what Alex thinks. They’ll think I’ve conjured this up, and then they’ll come and see if I need help, and everything will be a mess.

  No, I need to sort this first.

  Me: Really? That’s amazing, but what makes you say that?

  Mom: She’s pale.

  Jesus.

  Me: That’s her complexion.

  Mom: It’s not. She’s pale, and she’s smiling, and Matt seems back to himself. Has he said anything to you?

  Leave it to my mother to come up with this conclusion because my brother is in a better place with his wife. Though, I must admit, things were bad between them. She could be onto something, or it could be nothing at all.

  Me: He hasn’t said anything. But give it time, Mom. If she is, we will know when they want to tell us. They’ve been through a lot. I can understand if they are cautious.

  Mom: I hope she is. I saw the cutest baby clothes at the store earlier.

&nbs
p; I roll my eyes.

  Me: Step away from the baby clothes. You’ll make things worse. Have patience. I need to go. I’ll call you later. Love you.

  Mom: Talk later. Let me know if Matt calls you. Love you.

  I won’t tell my mother if Matt calls me. She spreads the word faster than the news.

  With the sound of a car approaching, my head spins so fast, my neck cracks. And I’d know the sound of that car if they threw it in with all the other cars in the world. Every time I hear it roll into my driveway, butterflies swarm in my stomach. But the butterflies today are full of anxiety.

  What is he doing here? Has Lydia decided not to come?

  I wipe my eyes before tears fall and dry my clammy hands against the legs of my jeans.

  I can do this.

  I can do this.

  The engine cuts and I hear a door shut. I don’t think I can face him today or all the words he wants to throw at me. I resist the urge to press on the knot in my chest, take a deep breath, fill myself with fake confidence, and approach the door as a figure appears on the other side of the glass. It isn’t over six foot two, and there aren’t broad shoulders or the outline of a stature I’ve become accustomed to.

  I open back the door before she can knock, not caring if I look like a crazy woman. Today, I am a crazy woman. I feel every bit of one.

  I met Lydia two days ago. I know what she looks like, but my eyes still widen, and my mouth parts like she is the last person I expected to see at my door. In a way, she is. She’s the mother of the daughter I gave up for adoption, and although I knew she was calling today, something is only catching up in my brain now. This is the woman who raised my daughter when I couldn’t. I never thought I would set eyes on either of them. And she’s here. Standing at my door, in a beige mac, sleek dark blonde hair, and cheekbones that could cut through glass with elegance and class you only see with royalty.

  This is the woman I must live up to.

  I’m screwed.

  Her mouth is tight, but she smiles, her lids hooded, and a misting of tears dust her lower lashes. While I am showing how much of a mess I’ve been in the last forty-eight hours, she doesn’t. I’m sure she’s been through as many emotions as I have, but somehow, she hides it with the grace of a ballerina.