And since that's not happening, even the sound of a crying baby can send me in a downward spiral. Today is no exception as I watch Amara pack boxes, some overflowing, other half-full, and argue with Megan.
So I do what I always do and mindlessly go through the motions of helping. I focus on the task in front of me. Fill one box, close it, and move on to another. I clear the remainder of the kitchen, help carry boxes to the truck, and keep to myself.
Once the truck is full, there’s a small sense of relief that the day is almost over. I can go home and curl under the covers, close my eyes, and cry into my husband’s chest. Just like almost every other night this week.
As everyone eats pizza and talks details about the event Emerson is hosting next weekend, I sneak away. I need a moment alone. To recoup. To pull myself together. I've been holding the tears at bay for a few hours now, and I can feel them pricking at the corners of my eyes.
I let them fall the moment I close the bathroom door behind me. I don't even both to wipe them away until I'm able to pull myself back together.
That's when I hear shuffling outside the door.
Of course I should have known that I wouldn't actually be able to escape.
Flushing the toilet, I check my face in the mirror and do the best I can to wipe away any evidence with the collar of my t-shirt.
Two swift knocks confirm I’m not as alone right now as I’d like to be. As soon as I open the door, I come face to face with Megan. I’m not surprised she followed me. When she pulls me in for a hug, it takes all my resolve to not let the tears begin to fall again.
Walking down the hall, away from our friends, Megan guides us outside, my hand in hers. I can feel her strength and I need it now more than ever.
"Talk to me," she says.
We've been walking around the backyard for a few minutes in silence. I've been focusing on the sounds of the birds singing to one another.
"There's nothing to talk about."
"We haven't spoken in forever, B. There should be a million things for us to talk about. Or, if you prefer, I can fill you in on my sexcapades." Megan pushes me with her shoulder, and I can't help but smile at her comment. She would be the one to want to talk about her sex life. "What's on your mind?"
"The same thing that's always on my mind. I can't seem to let it go, and it's driving a wedge between me and Hunter," I confess. Hunter and I are strong, our relationship is strong, but I can see the devastation in his eyes every time we talk about it. Every time we have another appointment.
"Nothing is going to get between the two of you, especially this. Not if you don't let it."
"I'm trying, really I am, but it's all I can think about. I can't even go to the bank without seeing a baby and wishing it were mine. It's like I'm constantly reminded that I can't give him the one thing he wants most in this world. Family is so important to him, and unless a miracle happens, I can't give him one. Ever."
God. Those words hurts to say. It's like admitting my failure to the world, even though it's just Megan and me back here.
"Is that what the doctor said, or is that what you think?"
"It's what every doctor has said. There's no way I'll ever get pregnant, and if by some chance I do, I won't be able to carry the baby. My body isn't strong enough. It's damaged. There's nothing I can do to fix it."
Megan pulls me to a stop, places her hands on my shoulder, and shakes her head.
"Look at me, B," she demands, so I blink back the tears that are already threatening to fall again and look up at my former best friend. "No matter what happens from here, you and Hunter are solid. You have to know that. That man loves you more than anyone else in his life. His love is not teetering on whether or not you have a family. You are his family. Focus on that. Focus on what you two have and not what you can't right now. One day, things will change, but for now, celebrate the life you've created together and enjoy it the best you can."
"But—"
"Just try. For me. For Hunter. More than anything, try for yourself. Allow yourself to accept what you can't change. I promise that things will get better. You'll hurt less, the pain will subside. Life is moving forward without you right now. Be a part of this. Of what's going on around you. I know it's easier said than done, but I also know you. I know how strong you are. That you're a fighter. That's why I also know that things will work out one way or another. You have to believe that too."
The barrier is broken. There's no holding the tears back now. My body loses the fight to be strong as I fall into Megan's arms, a loud sob leaving my body. It feels good to let it all out. To allow myself to feel the pain that's been crippling me for years.
I quit my job because I couldn't make it through the day without breaking down. I barely leave the house alone, afraid that no one will be there to help me if I have a moment. When I lost Megan, when all that shit went down, it was the last straw. Unless Hunter is with me, I don't really go anywhere.
My life revolves around my 'condition' as I call it. Not the fact that I can't have a baby, but the way I react to the knowledge. The emotions that refuse to loosen their grip on my heart.
Still, I hold out hope that one day I'll be able to move past this. To understand that having a child isn't in the cards for me. I can still be a wonderful aunt, a doting wife, and a great friend.
I'm aware that it won't be anytime soon. We just stopped trying. No more testing or experimental drugs. No more doctors’ appointments. My spirits are still low, but that's okay. I'm allowed to grieve. I need to take as much time as I need to be able to move past this.
Thankfully, I have Hunter by my side to get me through this. He's been my rock. As much as I know this upsets him, he maintains a strength that I admire.
As the truck pulls out of Megan's driveway, Emerson and I get in her car to head back to my house. The original plan was to help unload, but I'm not feeling up to it. I promised Megan I would come over later this week and help her get settled. She's going to need all the help she can get if the house is going to be ready for the event next weekend.
Speaking of the event, I'm expected to be there. Usually, I wouldn't bat an eye at attending a Dixon shindig. This is different, though. This isn't for the family; this is for a client. There will be mostly people I don't know, Vinnie's neighbors. It's out of my comfort zone to be in a public setting with no safety net.
Everyone will be working the event, doing their best to impress not only their client but also the guests. Sure, it's low-key. A barbecue. Nothing fancy. Still, there will be a sea of people, dozens upon dozens of sets of eyes on me if I have a moment.
I can only imagine the rumors that would circulate around the office if I do break down. People will think I'm a nutcase. Hunter will have to run interference, taking time away from what really needs to be attended to at work. And he will because he's not afraid to defend me at the drop of a hat. He's protective of what's his, always.
So I need a plan. One that involves me getting through the day without breaking down. I need to somehow stay away from the masses and maintain my composure for a few hours.
I can do this. For Hunter. For Emerson. For the Dixon name.
Chapter Three
Knocking on the door, I patiently wait for Megan to answer. I've been standing here for at least two minutes. Waiting. Wondering what's keeping her. She's expecting me. We've been planning this for two days.
Yesterday wasn't a good day for me. I was going to come over and help, but I didn't make it out of bed. Today I forced myself up and in the shower before my mind began to draw me under.
When the door handle giggles, the door opening slightly, I open my mouth to criticize Megan for being slow. To my surprise, I'm staring into the eyes of an elderly man instead.
"Can I help you?" He looks concerned at my presence as he peeks at me through the small crack between the door and the frame.
"I'm sorry. I think I might have the wrong house."
"Happens all the time, sweet cheeks," the old
man replies with a smile.
Sweet cheeks. I can't help but laugh, a smile slowly spreading across my face.
"Well, I'm sorry I bothered you. Have a nice day."
"You too."
And then he's gone, the door closing in my face. I listen as the lock slides into place before I turn and head back down the sidewalk to where my car is parked on the curb.
ME: Um, I went to the wrong house.
MEGAN: HAHAHAHA! I wondered what was taking you so long.
ME: Not as funny as you think. Walk outside, I'm going to drive around until I see you.
MEGAN: Okay.
I'm about to start my car when I hear Megan holler for me. Looking across the street, I spot her waving both of her hands over her head in an attempt to get my attention.
"You were so close," she says as I cross the street.
"My GPS said that was the house," I reply, pointing to the old man’s house behind me.
"Emerson said the same thing when she came over the other day. I'm starting to think either Google has it wrong or they base things on the mailbox."
Looking behind me, I notice two mailboxes, side by side, near the end of the old man’s driveway. It would make sense if that were the case.
"Come on in," she says, slinging her arm over my shoulder. "I need a second set of eyes. Emerson decided to move my furniture around, and I hate it."
"Why?"
"Why do I hate it, or why did she move it?"
"Both, I guess."
"She moved it three times. You'll have to ask her why. I'm afraid she'll move it again if I change it, but I can't stand the way it is now, so I need you to help me figure out a way that we both might like."
Knowing Emerson, no matter how we move things around, she's going to come in here and move things again. It’s a perfectionist thing. I overheard Allison talking about it at Herman's retirement party. Allison made it sound like a bad thing, that Emerson wanted to make sure everything was perfect, but I found it admirable. She's still trying to make a name for herself. One of the many reasons why this event is so important to her.
It's her first of many.
The best way to showcase her abilities. Not only to the clients but to her fellow co-workers.
Megan and I spend part of the afternoon moving her furniture around only to put it back the way Emerson arranged it out of concern she would be offended. Megan and Emerson are working on finding a balance between respect for each other and friendship still. No one wants to throw that off track, especially Megan.
Done focusing on the furniture, I help her unpack the last few boxes and organize the kitchen. We chat the entire time, about nothing important, which feels great. Our conversation is light, mostly about her and Vinnie and how things came to be.
She's in love. I can see that much. It's the way she says his name, with a slight grin on her face. It's like she's in her own world, dreaming about him, yet he's very real.
Our conversation is interrupted multiple times with vendors dropping off stuff for the party. With only a few more days, the final touches are coming together nicely from what I can tell. The grill and bar were delivered this afternoon along with tables and chairs.
When Emerson calls to check on progress, I can see how irritated Megan is.
"Why did you offer to host? You had to know it was going to be a huge headache."
"It was in exchange for moving," she quickly replies, handing me a stack of folded towels so I can put them on the shelf behind me.
"In exchange for helping you move? Who did you strike a deal with?"
Megan goes silent for a few minutes before turning to face me, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth.
"You need to keep this a secret," she starts. It must be a big secret if she's concerned with telling me. I've kept every secret she's ever shared with me, and I plan to take them all to my grave.
"You know I won't say anything."
"Not even to Hunter."
"Okay…"
"I made a deal with Ryder. I had already agreed to host the event like an idiot, but then Ryder came up with an idea. It's Emerson's first big event, and he wants to make it as special as possible. He wanted to do something here, and in exchange for that, I told him he had to help me move so it wouldn't take us as long and I could get settled."
"What's he planning?"
There has to be more to the story than this. Sure, making a deal with your ex-husband is awkward, but if it benefits both of you and you can get along, why not?
"Just a thing, that's all," she lies. I want to press her for details, but I don't. Instead, I keep my nose in my own business and focus on stuffing her linen closet with sheets and towels.
Emerson pulls in the driveway as I'm getting ready to leave. She's a gal on a mission from the looks of it, which makes me feel bad for Megan. As much as I love them both, they are like oil and water. They want to mix, to play nice, but they're two different people with opposing viewpoints on life.
Megan hugs me and walks me to my car, promising to call me later this week.
The drive back to the house seems longer than it should. It felt like time flew when I was headed to see Megan, my excitement to get out overwhelming. Going home, knowing that I'll be alone for hours and hours, brings with it a sense of dread.
All week, Hunter's been working late. Not just to prepare for the event but to stay on top of his usual workload. He came home after eight last night and was gone before I woke up this morning. There wasn't even a used coffee cup on the counter to wash per usual.
We've barely talked.
For the first time in years, we didn't make love last night.
It feels like he's pulling away.
Maybe this is his way of handling everything we've been through now that it's over. Well, 'over' isn't the best word to use. It'll never be over. This may haunt us for the rest of our lives. A part of me knows I'll never move on.
Tonight, though, we're going to talk. We need to before too much time passes and our relationship suffers. We've always been open and honest with each other up to this point. I'm not willing to throw almost ten years of marriage away because of one setback in life. We've been through worse and we've survived.
We can survive this, too, as long as we stick together.
"Hey," he greets me as he saunters into the living room, his tie loosened and the top button of his shirt already popped.
"You look exhausted," I note as he falls onto the couch next to me.
"I am. These late nights are killing me. The damn newbies are messing shit up, making me work harder than I should have to. Ever Tyler was horsing around today. It's like no one takes their job seriously anymore."
"So, call a meeting. Get everyone on the same page. Lay down the law, Mr. Dixon." I keep my voice light, joking with him.
Hunter is a natural born leader, but he hates confrontation. Most people will follow his lead without him having to demand things or set rules. It sounds like he may need to take that route for the first time if people don't shape up, though.
"If nothing changes by next week, I'm going to have to. I can't keep working twelve- and fourteen-hour days. I barely sleep. I haven't spent any time with you this week. I'm sorry about that, by the way."
"Don't worry about me. I know you're busy." Not that I don’t miss him when he’s gone, but I get it. I try to stay busy, to keep my mind occupied, but it’s easier with my best friend by my side.
"I'm always busy but never too busy to spend time with my wife."
"Well, I'm glad you think that because I was hoping we might find some time to talk this weekend. After the party maybe?"
"What do you want to talk about?"
"Us."
Hunter goes silent for a minute, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands and dragging them down his face. I know that gesture. That's his 'Shit, I must have screwed things up pretty bad, and shit’s going to hit the fan' gesture. I wonder if he even realizes he does that when he gets nervous.
<
br /> "You know I love you, right, Brianna?"
"Of course I do. I'd never question that."
"Good. That's all I needed to hear. Do you want to talk now?"
I do. More than anything. I want to get rid of the elephant sitting on my chest. I also don't want to stress him out more than he already is.
"No. Let's talk later this weekend. It's nothing that can't wait a few days."
My words are meant to soothe the uneasiness inside him, but when he rubs his eyes again, I know I've failed.
Leaning into his body, I rest my head on Hunter's chest and close my eyes. He shifts, wrapping one arm around my shoulder and pulling me closer.
We are strong. We will survive this.
As protective of me as he is, I'm even more protective of him. He doesn't need me to be; he can handle his shit himself. He can tackle any problem and come out unscathed.
The only issue I have with that is he seems to hold all his emotions in. He'll close himself off when he's hurting. His anger will fester until, eventually, it has to come out. When it does, it's explosive.
I've only seen him lose control once. It was a moment he's not proud of, and we never speak of it. Probably because all parties involved were wrong, and his mother let them all know.
Tyler, Ryder, and Hunter, three grown-ass men, put in check by a tiny woman in her late sixties with only a glance. The words she spoke had nothing on the look she gave them. All while Herman smiled at his three unruly children behind his wife's back.
He thought he was safe.
Margoret, bless her heart, ripped her husband a new asshole without turning around. After almost fifty years of marriage, she knew exactly what he was doing behind her.
All four of them, their heads hanging low, retreated to the kitchen to clean up their mess while I ordered takeout. Mother's Day dinner was ruined, the kitchen covered in marinara sauce and lasagna noodles. Ricotta cheese was smeared across the floor.
Rumors: Brianna & Hunter Page 2
