by C. M. Albert
Rob laughed, then shook Olivia’s hand. “Good to see you again. Hope Kerrington here hires you for his next project. I can already see the improvement in his choices for this house.”
“Gee, thanks,” I said. “I’m right here, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Rob said. “Catch ya later, boss.”
Rob and his crew pulled the lift from the room and into the hallway, parking it on the landing at the top of the stairs before pushing and shoving their way down to get off for the night. It was a Friday, so they’d probably be headed out to Rudi’s.
“Well, I should probably get going, too. It’s been a long day and Stitch needs to go for a walk,” Olivia said, glancing back up at the chandelier one last time.
“Mind if I join you? I could use a good stretch myself.”
“Sure. Let me just get changed, and I’ll see you at home,” she said.
Home.
Why did the Wells’s house suddenly feel like home to me? I couldn’t explain it. When I’d gone back up to Watertown, I’d had no interest in making the rounds with my regular friends or hanging out at the Wet Bar—aptly named because of its waterside location. Instead, all I thought of was getting back home to Liv. Well, truthfully, Liv and Ryan.
It wasn’t exactly like I had sexual feelings for the guy. I just didn’t swing that way. But you can’t share something as deeply intimate and vulnerable with someone and not feel something stronger than normal. I now equated Ryan to passion, connection, and love, just as I did Olivia. The two of us shared many good talks over the summer, sometimes with Olivia, sometimes without. He’d quickly become one of my closest confidants. The kind of friend you kept for a lifetime. The kind of man I’d ask to be my best man someday.
Not the kind of man you stole a wife from.
Why, then, couldn’t I stop desiring Olivia? Stop myself from actively seeking her out? Spending as much time with her as I could? Wanting her in every way imaginable?
I was screwed. Certifiably, irreversibly screwed.
And yet, I still loved her. I’d been working on something I wanted to give her. Tonight seemed like as good of time as any with Ryan gone for the evening. It’s not that I was hiding it or wanted her to. But it was a special gift for a special woman, and I craved the connection that privacy would offer us.
Yeah, I know. I was being a selfish SOB.
I just prayed Sir Isaac Newton’s Third Law wouldn’t apply in this case. I didn’t need the opposite and equal reaction to come back and bite me in the ass from this gesture when it came solely from a place of love.
Chapter 39
Olivia
WE TOOK STITCH for a long walk, heading all the way up to the dog park to let him run around with some other dogs for once. He still wasn’t that big yet, so it was fun watching him gently approach the other dogs in search of a new friend. I waved at the woman across the park who seemed to be the owner of the Husky who was now happily trotting around playing tag with Stitch. It was a dog match made in heaven.
Brighton and I sat on a bench as we watched the dogs play. It didn’t go unnoticed how he accidentally brushed my hand a few times with his own. He even reached out and squeezed it for a moment, so I squeezed back, though I was grateful when he let my hand go. The last thing I needed was for a student of Ryan’s or a client of mine to see us.
“So, when does Ryan officially go back?” Brighton asked, watching as Stitch discovered his reflection in a puddle.
“Next week. But he’s already been going in a little to get things set up and ready before the students are back on campus,” I said, frowning. I wasn’t ready for summer to be over. I had gotten so used to having Ryan home all the time. Our relationship had grown so much stronger for it, and I was afraid of slipping back into bad habits once the stress of our normal schedules sank back in. “Did I tell you I’ve decided to go back to work full time?”
Brighton turned on the bench to face me. “That’s wonderful!” he said, beaming. “How do you feel after making such a big decision?”
I let out a shaky breath. How did I feel? Ryan hadn’t even asked me that, though I knew he cared. “Scared. I know it’s all in my head, but I feel like I’m betraying Laelynn by moving on, going back to the way life was before. It’s not the same, Brighton. I’m not the same.”
“No, you’re not. You know what you are?”
“What?”
“Stronger. More healed. You’re ready. That’s not a betrayal. That’s a commitment to life. I’m certain she’d want that for you. Parents and children—no matter how young—share an inexplicable, inextricable bond at a soul level that can never be severed or replaced. Even if you have kids in the future, it doesn’t alter or affect the specific and exact way your heart loves Laelynn. Likewise, her little soul up there somewhere,” he said, pointing to the sky, “will never not remember your DNA. Your heart. Who knows—maybe you’ll meet her again in another lifetime.”
I bit back my tears, clutching the edge of the bench. “I hope so. Because I’m not sure I’ll ever get pregnant again in this one. My body hates me.”
A single tear fell from my eye, tracing a hot trail down my cheek. Brighton wiped it for me, then pulled me in close for a hug.
“I am right. And I can’t wait to see Sam again, either. Maybe he and Laelynn are up in heaven together. I’ll tell him to watch over her, like a big brother.”
I pulled back, wiping my eyes. “You talk to him?”
“Yeah,” he said, as if it were the silliest question in the world. “Don’t you?”
I backed up, giving myself some space. “No, actually. I haven’t. I don’t know why, but it hadn’t occurred to me.”
“Just because she’s not with you down here doesn’t mean she’s not with you here,” he explained, placing his hand over my heart. “I didn’t get therapy right away. But after Caroline died, and I got Sam’s things, it broke me. Absolutely broke me to see his tiny booties and hold his fetal death certificate. The little blue cap the hospital put on him before handing him to Caroline to hold was in there. And a picture of Caroline while she was holding him, tears and all,” he said, his eyes glassy. He looked away, trying to compose himself.
“Once I started seeing someone about my grief, they recommended a couple of exercises. They might be good for you. Do you want to hear them?”
Was I ready to?
I watched Stitch play happily with his new friend. Took in the bright copper sky as the sun set over Lake Ontario. Breathed in the fresh lake air. The fact was, I was still living. I owed it to Laelynn to be stronger than this. To make my life count, since hers was over way too soon.
“I would. Let’s walk and talk and head home before it gets dark.”
Much to the disgust of Stitch’s new friend, I leashed him up and we headed out. On the walk home, I listened to Brighton’s own path of healing. It made me realize how much Ryan must be holding in. He’d had to be so strong for me all this time. I’d forgotten how to be there for him, too. Instead of turning to another woman for comfort—his priority was making me happier.
I was certain I didn’t deserve Ryan.
“I think I’ll try writing her a letter, like you suggested,” I told Brighton when we got home. I let Stitch off his leash in the backyard and closed the gate behind us. “It’s still nice out. I may just curl up out here with a journal and try some of the exercises you shared. I really appreciate it.”
“Appreciate what?” he asked, searching my eyes as if trying to memorize every fleck of blue.
“Being brave enough to open up about your grief. I don’t know a lot of men who could do that. For continuing to give to me, even though I haven’t given you nearly as much in return. For the tulips,” I said, smiling at the explosion of color all around me.
“I have four sisters, Olivia. I know how to get in touch with my feelings.”
I laughed. “How did I not know this?”
“We were too busy learning each other in other ways.” Brighton pulled me closer to him, so
our hips were almost touching. Our lips were only a breath apart.
“I finally understand why Ryan did what he did,” he said. “There’s not a damn thing I wouldn’t do to keep that smile on your face. Nothing.”
His hand was in my hair before I could stop it, his mouth crashing down onto mine. I dropped the leash and wrapped my hands around his head, pulling him even closer as I sank into that kiss. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he deepened the pressure—owning me in a way I’d never experienced. It was as if he could read every single one of my deepest, darkest secrets with that kiss. Drawing them out and asking for more. For total surrender.
He slammed my back up against the house and kissed my neck, my collarbone, my ears, before capturing my mouth again on a moan. Stitch barked happily at our feet, thinking it was a game. Laughter bubbled over as he jumped up on Brighton’s legs, trying to get to me.
I rested my head back against the house, my chest rising with the passion that was bubbling over. Thank god for Stitch because I was this close to losing any common sense that was left after that kiss.
Brighton slowly lowered me to the ground but pulled me close in a fierce embrace as he kissed me one last time. “By the way, I have something for you.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I could handle one more thing that would bring me even closer to him. But I nodded. If he’d gone out of his way to think about my heart, the least I could do was accept his gift. I followed him into the house, making our way to the guestroom where I’d slept with Stitch. He placed his hand over my eyes, bringing back memories from the first day I’d met him. Here we were all over again. I inhaled sharply, afraid to open my eyes. I knew whatever I saw was going to sink me even further. And the truth was, I wasn’t sure I was prepared.
“Open your eyes,” he whispered in my ear.
There was a storage chest, much like the one at the foot of the bed in his collection for Erickson’s. Only this one was whitewashed, with a bouquet of tulips mixed with delicate sprigs of lily of the valley painted on the top.
“What is this?” I asked, walking over and kneeling next to it.
“It’s a memory box,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I figured you might have a few things you’ve set aside from Laelynn that are special to you.”
I ran my hand along the top of the wooden chest. “This is beautiful. Where’d you get it?”
“I made it for you,” he said, squatting down next to me, resting on his heels. “I started it after one of our first conversations in the backyard at night—when you opened up about your losses. I like having all of Sam’s stuff in one place. Sometimes I write him Christmas cards, or birthday letters, and put those in there. I just thought you might like to do the same. That it might be therapeutic for you.”
“I love it,” I said, opening the lid. Inside there was a smaller box. “What’s this?”
“It’s for the really important things,” Brighton said.
I knew exactly what things he was talking about. Laelynn’s hospital bracelet. Her little lock of hair. The fetal death certificate. I later found out that was also the only proof of our daughter’s birth—still or not. I had a little pink hat with a bow sewn onto the front, and a blanket someone made by hand and donated to the hospital for the babies who didn’t go home. They wrapped her in it before handing her to us after her birth.
“Thank you,” I whispered. Tears were streaming down my cheeks as the weight of his gift sank in. He’d started this before we were ever even intimate together. “I don’t have words for how much this means to me. I know Ryan will love it, too.”
Brighton pushed my hair aside, then wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said, helping me up to a stand.
“You said you wrote through your grief. Did you journal? Write letters? What helped?”
“For me, it was being able to process my guilt for not being able to protect him—save him.”
“Brighton—” I said, my heart breaking in a million pieces that he blamed himself in any way.
“I know it’s stupid. There was nothing I could’ve done, nothing Caroline did, to affect the outcome. But the first thing I did was write an apology to Sam for not being able to change things. Then I wrote a letter telling him all the things I’d hoped for in his life. And how he’d changed mine for the better. How even though his loss was the single most devastating thing to ever happen to me—his life, for even that brief time he was inside Caroline—was the best part of me. I wrote letter after letter until my heart had bled all over the pages. It was the only way to get everything out of me—the guilt, the anger, the jealousy I felt when I saw other families. The depression. I’ve been where you are Liv. Maybe not the same way since I didn’t carry him. But I’d have traded my life with his in a second if god offered me a chance.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head against his chest. I knew exactly what he meant. “I’m not sure I’m brave enough to write something like that.”
“You’re braver than you give yourself credit for. But you can journal instead if it helps. For me, it helped to have someone to write to. Otherwise, it would’ve just been a bunch of entries of me going off on god.”
“How did you stop?” I asked quietly.
“I started living. I started trusting that, for whatever reason, god has bigger plans for me than I could even begin to comprehend. I can’t control life like a puppet master, so I decided to go with the flow more. Trust that something better was coming after all that grief. I had to start believing and honoring the fact that Sam’s short life and death meant something.”
“And that worked? Sheer will?”
Brighton shrugged. “It did for me. Well, that and a lot of therapy.”
I hugged his waist tighter, then looked up at him. “You’re my therapy, Brighton.”
He bent down, brushing his lips so softly against mine I almost questioned whether it really happened. It didn’t matter though. No matter what happened in my life, I knew I would never be able to erase the ghostlike imprint of the feel of Brighton’s lips on mine. He’d seared his mark on my heart and my body forever, no matter how hard I’d tried not to let it happen.
“And you’re my tulip,” he said, pressing his lips more possessively against mine this time, making sure there was no mistaking where I stood in his life and what he wanted.
Only I had no clue what to do about it.
Chapter 40
Ryan
I SAT IN the darkness of my Jeep, watching as Brighton left the guest bedroom off the sunroom—the room where Liv had slept with the dog. She was back to sleeping in our bedroom though, so I wasn’t sure why they would be in there alone together. All I knew is my inner Hulk was about to come out, and I needed to get it under control fast before I said or did something I’d regret. I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. I didn’t want to think about what it meant that they were in there this late. Or what the betrayal of their solitary kiss meant. As far as I knew, Olivia had never kissed him when I wasn’t there with them.
If we were dating, it would be one thing. But she was my wife. And, yeah, it had been my bright idea to share her with him in the first place. But that wasn’t what troubled me. What I wished I had control over was Olivia’s feelings now.
Through the darkness, I watched as her hands went to her lips. I noticed how she didn’t move from her spot, watching where he’d walked out of the room long after he’d left. What was going through her heart right now? The entire time I was gone today, all I could focus on was getting home to Livy. While I loved my job, a room full of stuffy academics held nothing to the light that radiated from her these days. I couldn’t seem to get enough.
Apparently, Kerrington couldn’t either.
Man-to-man, we’d be discussing that in the morning. For now, all I wanted to do was wipe the memory of Brighton’s kiss from my wife’s lips. Still white knuckling the stee
ring wheel, I took several rounds of deep breaths, willing myself to calm down before I went in there. I gathered my laptop and the small gift bag the school had given me to celebrate my fifteenth year of teaching. I couldn’t wait to show Liv the theatre tickets inside, so I focused on that instead of the jealousy burning through my veins like a bad high.
I could ask Olivia point blank what had happened, and she would tell me. But I didn’t want to know tonight. Tonight, I just wanted to make sure I was the one on her mind as she fell asleep. By the time I got inside, Olivia had already gone upstairs to our bedroom. I took Stitch out to the bathroom one last time for the night so she wouldn’t have an excuse for one of the late-night outdoor chat sessions she seemed to be so fond of with Kerrington.
We trotted up the stairs together, and I saw Liv curled up in our bed, a book by one of her favorite rom-com authors in her hand.
“Hey,” I said, walking over to the bed.
She set the book down, a big smile on her face as she looked up at me.
“Hey, yourself, handsome. How did the event go?”
“You know how it is. Nothing to write home about,” I said, leaning over to kiss her. I couldn’t taste Brighton on her—he’d been replaced by the familiar aftertaste of her Crest toothpaste. I nipped at her lower lip. “Sorry I got home so late.”
“That’s okay,” she said, pulling my head down to deepen the kiss. Maybe I was reading more into the situation than what had really happened. Either that or she was feeling guilty.
Either way, I was going to erase Brighton from her mind tonight until he was just a distant memory. There wasn’t enough space for the two of us in her heart or on her body anymore. Olivia was mine, and I intended to make sure she never forgot.
THE NEXT MORNING, I bumped into Kerrington in the kitchen as he was getting his coffee. His blond hair was tousled, and he had nothing on but his running shorts. It was hard to wipe him from her heart when the guy was parading around our house half naked, looking like a Greek god.
