by C. M. Albert
I took a swig of my beer, sliding our burgers onto the grate of Big Green Egg. Even if it was just for Brighton, it was kind of nice grilling out with a friend again. Ever since the funeral, we’d slowly lost touch with our friend group. It wasn’t that they didn’t try, but the pain of being around their kids was just too hard for Liv. After dozens of excuses, they finally stopped inviting us over, giving us the space we needed to heal. Our efforts to safeguard our privacy worked a little too well, though, because this was the first time since Laelynn died that we had a guest over to the house. I just hoped Olivia could make it through the entire dinner.
Fifteen minutes later, Brighton popped the latch on our white picket fence and made his way across the yard to me. Stitch ran over to greet him.
The guy was hard to hate. He bent down and scratched between the puppy’s ears. Stitch immediately rolled over on his back for Brighton, and I couldn’t help but hope my wife didn’t respond to our handsome neighbor the same way. Hell, even I seemed to be under Brighton’s spell, enjoying the developing friendship between us.
“What a great dog,” he said. “Wish I could have one.”
I realized how little I really knew about him, other than the fact that he was flipping his uncle’s estate. “Why can’t you?”
“Just not home enough. That wouldn’t be fair to a pet.”
“Do you flip houses for a living?”
“Not really. I usually build homes, not restore them.”
“You a carpenter then?”
“Guess you could say that. That’s where it all starts, right?”
“I wouldn’t know. I mean, I have a workshop, and I love getting my hands dirty. But I’m a professor.”
Brighton looked up. “Here? At the university?”
“Yep. Just taking the summer off for once.”
“Nice. Anything fun planned?”
You mean, other than watching my wife disappear further and further into herself?
“Nah. Just a lazy summer.”
“I hear ya. I’d take one of those, too, if I could.”
“Man, where are my manners?” I grabbed a beer from the cooler and popped the top off before handing the cold bottle to Brighton. “How do you like your burger?”
“Medium,” he said, “but I’ll eat about anything right now.”
Liv took that moment to come out the back door, a large goblet of red wine in her hand and a platter of appetizers in the other. Her hair looked freshened up, and I noticed she applied a light dusting of makeup. I wanted to punch a hole in the stupid green egg as I stood there flipping our burgers. She looked like a breath of fresh air the way her soft, blond hair framed her face like a living angel. Her lips were rosier now than they’d been before, and I saw her sneak a peek at Brighton before she sidled up to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I’d waited seven months for affection like this from Olivia.
One day with Brighton and she was all over me. Great.
We chatted while I pulled the burgers off the grill, then made our way to the back porch. We had an open-air seating area under the second-floor patio, with massive stone columns anchoring the whole thing. Large, palm-bladed fans kept us cool, and the fairy lights Liv had installed soon after she found out she was pregnant with Laelynn added a laid-back ambiance to the evening. Surprisingly enough, conversation with Brighton was easy; he was smarter than I judged him for. We fell into easy banter and most of the conversation wound its way back to decorating, but Liv looked happy, so I didn’t mind.
“So, what’s it like being a new dog mommy?” Brighton asked, having no idea the landmine he’d just stepped in.
I held my breath, waiting for Olivia to set her napkin down and excuse herself. But she didn’t. She took a big sip of wine and smiled. I could tell it wasn’t a real Livy smile, but it was executed smoothly enough to fool Brighton.
“We love it. Don’t we, honey?”
Honey?
I nodded, practically speechless. “Mostly. Except for the 2:00 a.m. bathroom breaks. Luckily, Liv’s been taking one for the team and covering those.”
“How’d you manage that?” Brighton asked, laughing.
“He takes care of me in other ways,” she said, glancing at me from under her thick lashes. “The least I can do is let him sleep through the night.”
I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone. Had Brighton secretly replaced my real wife with a Stepford wife during his tour of the house?
We all shared an after-dinner drink, then Brighton asked about Olivia’s portfolio. “Mind if I show him, Ry?” she asked, her eyes bright.
My heart soared seeing the excitement there; but it was also a knife to my heart, knowing it wasn’t me who caused it. But the truth was, I’d do anything to see her keep smiling like this.
She walked by my chair, and I reached my hand out, catching hers. She glanced down at me, and I saw the real Liv in there again. Not the Liv buried in pain. Not the Liv who was unfunctional on the best of days. But the strong, capable woman I’d fallen in love with. The one who had started her own business and built a lucrative career from nothing. The one who stole my heart from the first moment I laid eyes on her.
Her hand slipped from mine, and I watched as Brighton followed my wife into my home.
AFTER OUR NEIGHBOR left for the evening, Liv and I fell into a comfortable silence while I washed the dishes and she dried them. She was humming as she wiped the towel over the platter we’d served appetizers on. There was a spring in her step as she stood on her tiptoes to put it away on the top shelf.
When she turned and found me staring at her, she grinned.
“What?” she asked, self-conscious as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Then she thought better of it, pulling a rubber band from around her wrist and securing all those long blond waves into a messy bun high on her head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because you’re beautiful. Because it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this happy—and it looks amazing on you.”
She blushed. “I think maybe you were right.”
I set down the pan that I was washing and dried my hands.
“About what?” I asked, walking over and wrapping her in my arms. I put my chin on her head as she snuggled against my chest. I never wanted to let her go, wishing I could bubble up this moment and keep us safe forever.
“I’m spending too much time inside the house. I need to have something to do—to keep my mind busy. To fill all the silence,” she whispered.
That’s exactly what she needed, and also what terrified me.
“You thinking of taking the job with Kerrington?”
“Maybe. Would you be okay with that?”
“Yeah,” I said, though my heart was kicking my ass inside, yelling at me to say no. To stop her from spending more time with him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you took the summer off to be with me. To help me get back on my feet—so we could work on us. I don’t want you to think that’s any less important if I do this.”
This.
What would this turn into? She didn’t need my permission. I wasn’t her keeper. Still, I closed my eyes, holding on tight. I knew our balance hung on what came next. But I couldn’t clip her wings. She needed whatever she needed to heal . . . and I had to trust her. I knew she loved me more than anything on this planet. Just because her heart had been decimated when we lost Laelynn, it didn’t mean she wouldn’t come back fully to me.
I still believed in Liv and Ry.
“I know, babe,” I said, kissing her forehead. “I think getting out of the house and using your creativity will be good for you.”
“Brighton told me you’ve been helping over there, too,” she said, grinning. “Sounds like it’s been good for you. Who knew the secret to our therapy might’ve been right next door this whole time?”
Indeed.
Chapter 8
Olivia
NO MATTER HOW much I tried, I couldn’t fall asleep. I la
y in bed, looking up at the tin ceiling in our guest bedroom. It had once been the dining room, adjacent to the sunroom off the side of our house. We’d considered making it our master suite, but we didn’t want to reconfigure the bathrooms down here when the previous owners had done so much work on the house already. It ended up being perfect for Stitch because it let me take him out through the sunroom and into the side yard easily, never disturbing Ryan. Maybe I should ask him to install a doggy door for when Stitch gets a little older, so he can make these nighttime trips on his own.
As I tossed and turned, I couldn’t help but think about the past two years with Ryan. The tide felt like it was turning when I got pregnant with Laelynn. The years we’d suffered before seemed to disappear, as if our miracle baby could magically erase all the damage we’d done to one another after our miscarriages. Ryan had taken the first one the hardest. That’s when his anger started to surface—feelings he didn’t know what to do with. He spent months getting mad for no reason whatsoever. It’s how we ended up with a hole in the garage wall. Back then, I hadn’t known how to soothe it. Or how to get him to talk to someone about his feelings—especially when I was so devastated myself, I couldn’t be there for him the way he needed. Eventually, he bottled it all up inside and capped it off, going back to work as if nothing had happened.
Meanwhile, I was trying to hold us both together, and failing miserably. So, when I found out I was pregnant again only a few months after the first baby, I was elated. Ryan? Not so much. The pain I held from the night I told him still haunted me. I’d taken him to his favorite steakhouse on the lake, eager to tell him the good news. Had it been too soon? Probably. But I’d taken it as a sign. God wouldn’t have given us a baby if it weren’t meant to be, right?
Ryan, however, hadn’t shared the same sentiment. That conversation was what played on repeat in my head tonight—though I didn’t know why. I remembered the way he’d coolly set his fork onto the table, wiping his mouth with the starched white napkin sitting on his lap. He took a sip of his red wine, looking over the beveled edge of the goblet at me as I waited for him to say something. Anything.
“It’s too soon.”
“Obviously not,” I said, upset at his reaction. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“We just lost our baby three months ago, Liv. Your body hasn’t had time to heal, and neither have our hearts. I’m not done loving the last baby. I can’t do this.”
“You can’t do this?” I hissed, looking at him incredulously. “You should’ve thought about that when you wanted unprotected sex last month, then. It’s a little too late for regrets.”
“It’s not though. Your body needs a rest. Even your obstetrician said that.”
“Right. But again, we messed up. That doesn’t mean this baby isn’t meant to be.”
“It’s not meant to be, Liv. It’s too soon.”
“What are you saying?” I asked, my hands shaking.
“I think we should—”
“No!” I said loudly, pushing my chair back and standing. People were looking at the scene I was making, but I didn’t care. “I won’t.”
“Sit down now, Olivia. You’re embarrassing me.”
“And you’re breaking my heart.” I threw my napkin on the chair and walked away, knowing Ryan would think I was headed to the restroom to cool off.
He picked up his wine and signaled calmly to the waiter.
Instead of making my way to the bathroom, though, I walked out the front door and kept going. I headed along the lake’s walkway and got almost all the way into town before the bright sting of headlights shone from behind.
Ryan’s car slowed down beside me, the window rolled down. “Get in.”
“No,” I said, continuing to walk home.
“Liv, get in the fucking car. It’s late.”
I stopped, with my fists balled at my side. “Do not tell me what to do,” I said. “I am the only one who can decide what to do with my body. Not you.”
“I’m sorry I upset you, hon.”
“But you’re not sorry about what you were about to say, are you?”
Ryan looked down at his hands on the steering wheel. “All I was going to say is I think we should talk about our options. I wasn’t saying that’s what we should do.”
“There’s nothing to talk about when it comes to having this baby,” I spat. I turned my back to him and walked the long, lonely road home alone.
Well, I wasn’t completely alone. Ryan turned off his lights and followed me all the way back to the house at a respectable distance. When he pulled in the driveway, I was already inside, stripping my clothes off to shower.
“We need to talk about this,” he said from the doorway. “You’re being childish.”
I spun on him, not caring that I was naked. I’d already bared my entire soul to this man. There wasn’t an inch of my body that wasn’t already his. “Look at my body, Ryan,” I challenged him. “This body—the one you want to fuck so badly all the time—it has a baby inside it again. Your baby, you asshole.”
I turned toward the shower, not leaving an inch of room for him to try to convince me of something I would never do. Especially when all we’d ever wanted was a family.
He grabbed my arm before I could get in. “I’m sorry, Livy. I’m so sorry.” I looked into the warm, brown eyes I’d fallen in love with and realized that he was terrified. “I’m so scared to lose you.”
I shook my arm free and stepped under the hot, soothing spray, washing the anger off my skin. Then I pulled Ryan into the shower with me. We worked our anger and fear out on one another that night. Punishing each other for things that were never our fault. We bridged the space between us, holding on to the shred of hope we’d been given.
The next morning, I miscarried.
I FINALLY GAVE up the idea of sleep. I glanced at the clock. It was 1:55. “Come on, Stitch,” I said, lifting the snuggly puppy from the end of the bed. Ryan would kill me when he learned I’d foregone the crate. I inhaled the puppy’s sweet smell before sliding on my tan Oran sandals and following him into the backyard.
We didn’t see too many stars being in the city, but the moon was bright white, in its third-quarter phase. I was about to sit down when I saw a movement from the corner of my eye and Stitch growled, giving me a low warning.
“Easy,” Brighton said from the shadows.
Stitch ran to the fence, jumping up and down excitedly after recognizing the man who had scratched his tummy all evening. Even in the dark, I could tell when Brighton’s face broke out into a smile, his straight white teeth drawing my attention to his full lips and sensual mouth.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep anyway. And it was time for Stitch’s bathroom break.”
“I couldn’t sleep either, which is why I gave up and went for a jog. Mind if I join you?”
“Sure,” I said, waving him over. I sat on one of the chaise lounges, leaning back and resting my head on my hands. “It’s the witching hour.”
Brighton laughed. “I’ll say. The neighborhood’s nice and quiet, though, at this time of night. Not a car in sight on my run.”
“That’s because most normal people are asleep right now,” I scoffed.
“No sleep for the wicked,” he said, sitting onto the lounge chair beside me. “What keeps you up at night, Liv?”
Stitch jumped onto Brighton’s lap and snuggled into the crotch of his shorts. He immediately turned so our neighbor could scratch his belly. Traitor.
“You don’t want to know,” I said, feeling haunted by an onslaught of memories tonight.
The hardest part in remembering wasn’t looking back. It was the realization of what we’d never have in the future now that our babies were gone. All the milestones we’d miss. The holidays that we’d never get to have with them. Those made me ache the most. Usually when someone important in your life dies, you at least have the memories of a lifetime to look back on. You miss wh
at was. But when you have a stillborn—the ache is never ending because all you can think about is a future you’ll never have.
“Maybe I do,” he said, pulling me back to the present.
“How old are you, Brighton?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Just curious.”
“Twenty-nine. How old are you?”
“Thirty-one,” I answered. “But I’ve been through things you can’t even imagine. It ages you.”
His eyes swept over my body, and I realized that my thin cotton nightgown probably left little to the imagination. I hadn’t been expecting a nighttime visitor when I’d slipped outside with Stitch.
“You don’t look old to me.”
“What ages us usually hits the heart more than the body,” I said.
“What’s hurt your heart, Liv?”
“I don’t know you well enough to share the scars of my heart with you,” I said sadly. “And you need to stop calling me Liv.”
“How come? It suits you.”
“That it does. But it’s Ryan’s nickname for me, and I’m fairly certain my husband won’t like hearing our hunky neighbor calling me by his pet name.”
“Hunky, huh?”
I shot Brighton a side eye, noticing his playful grin. There was something so masculine about his hard, square jawline and intense green eyes. “That wasn’t the takeaway from all of this.”
“Fine, Olivia.”
“Thank you.”
“So, back to your heart—”
“No. Just no.”
Brighton shrugged. “One day, I’ll get your secrets from you,” he teased.
If he only knew the things that lay buried in this broken heart.
“I better get back inside. The morning’s going to come soon enough, and I’d like to get started on some mood boards tomorrow.”
