by Leigh Lennon
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
Copyright
Note to My Readers
Hunter Family Tree
Emma
Tyler
Justine
Untitled
Things I Learn Along the Way
About the Author
Unfiltered
Unfiltered Excerpt
Unacquainted
Unacquainted Excerpt
The Last Breath
The Holiday Package
The Holiday Package Excerpt
Unwanted
Leigh Lennon
Contents
Copyright
Note to My Readers
Hunter Family Tree
1. Emma
2. Tyler
3. Emma
4. Tyler
5. Justine
6. Tyler
7. Emma
8. Justine
9. Tyler
10. Justine
11. Tyler
12. Emma
13. Tyler
14. Emma
15. Tyler
16. Emma
17. Tyler
18. Emma
19. Tyler
20. Emma
21. Tyler
22. Emma
23. Justine
24. Tyler
25. Emma
26. Tyler
27. Emma
28. Emma
29. Tyler
30. Emma
31. Tyler
32. Justine
33. Emma
34. Tyler
35. Emma
36. Tyler
37. Emma
38. Tyler
39. Emma
40. Tyler
41. Emma
42. Tyler
43. Emma
44. Tyler
45. Emma
Epilogue
Bonus Epilogue
Untitled
Things I Learn Along the Way
About the Author
Unfiltered
Unfiltered Excerpt
Unacquainted
Unacquainted Excerpt
The Last Breath
The Holiday Package
The Holiday Package Excerpt
Unwanted
Copyright @2018 Leigh Lennon
No part of this book may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission of the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Although every precaution has been taken to verify the accuracy of the information contained herein, the author and publisher assume no responsibility for any errors or omissions. No liability is assumed for damages that may result from the use of information contained within.
The eBook copy is licensed for your personal enjoyment and cannot re-sold or given away.
This book is a work of fiction and is the product of the author’s imagination.
Editing by Editing For You and Mad as a Hatter Author Services
Proofreading services by Deaton Author Services
Formatting by Ink It Out Editing
Cover design by Kasmit Covers
Alpha Readers: Rosemary Kalonaros, Emma Aldridge
Beta Readers: Ann Barajas and Nancy George
To all the women out there who have suffered from any form of depression that kept you from your baby at first, making you fight like hell to get back to your precious child! Motherhood is the hardest job on earth but as a mother, we know with one look at our children, it’s worth it.
To my mom who has always been the example of sacrifice and love that I try to emulate. I miss you, crazy lady, more and more each day!
Note to My Readers
I came up with the idea of this crazy and dynamic family to write a series about. The stories came to me easily. Unfiltered and Unacquainted in this collection of stand-alone books were fun books to pen. I skipped the third book, this book, and continued with Ryan’s story, Kai and Jane’s story, and then started on the story of Lila. I would start the story I wanted to write about Emma so many times and though I had her story in my head, every time it would start to flow, the emotion of a woman separated from her baby because of Post-Partum was something that hit me like a blow to the head. I don’t know how many times I’d stand from my desk, leaving my office, telling the hubs I had to push out the release of this book. However, I would find my way back to my computer, to continue with this hard subject I decided was going to be this wonderfully easy story to write for some reason. I am not sure what I was smoking two years ago when I mapped out this family’s journey.
But I want to take a moment to talk to you about Emma before you begin the story. Some women may not understand Emma and that is okay. However, Post-Partum is a real problem affecting so many women that I wanted to make it look real. I wrote it with the intention that anyone reading this book could find some way to relate to Emma on her journey to motherhood.
I hope you enjoy this book because it was truly the hardest thing I have written up to date and I didn’t think anything could top The Last Breath. However, as I have been told, I am an emotional writer and I will tell you, that won’t change. I have another emotional book coming out in the fall. Better order those boxes of Kleenex now.
Anyway, happy reading and thanks so much for choosing to pick up my book and read it! It touches my heart!
~Leigh
1
Emma
I tiptoe across the hall, slowly opening the door to her room. From a safe distance, I watch her moving, willing myself to feel something—anything. They call it postpartum, but all I know is I’m not me anymore. The old Emma is gone, and I’m left with the shell of the woman I used to be.
My daughter and husband are better off without me. It’s the honest truth. How can I be a mother and feel nothing for the little girl sleeping in this room? We wanted her for so long—I needed her, and now, I can’t fathom ever loving her. No, more than that, they deserve to be happy. They need to be rid of me.
When Tyler leaves for work, he will be taking the baby with him because I can’t be left alone with this little girl. I hear him call for me. “Emma,” he says. He hasn’t called me ‘Ems’ or ‘babe’ or ‘sweetheart’ in months. I was shocked last night when he called me ‘honey’ after telling me about Rose. That must have been a slipup.
“We’re leaving soon,” he sighs, and I can’t bring myself to look at him. “We will be home late tonight. Mom will keep Aspen a little later than normal. I’m heading to the hospital to see Rose and Lorel.” I hear his footsteps leaving the guest room, and then he stops. Returning to the room I have inhabited since coming home from the hospital, he opens the door again as he says, “I can stop by and get you if you want to visit them, too.” I shake my head, and he departs without another word.
I should go and see my sister and my new niece. Furthermore, Rose is dealing with her own hell right now, and she can use a shoulder to cry on, but I can’t even comfort myself. How can I offer comfort to someone else?
The truth is, I don’t deserve the title of mother. That little girl should feel the comforting arms of maternal love and deserves more than I can give her. I remember the day Ty and I learned the possibility of us having a baby was slim to none. In a split second, devastation fell over me, and I thought my life was over. However, the day I peed on a stick and saw the positive sign was the happiest day of my life. Yet here I am now, hiding from my baby and avoiding the fact that Rose, my sister, needs me.
Funny how I remember every kick she made. Bringing a life into my world was my dream. If I remember
how much I wanted this baby, why can’t I will myself to be the mom I always planned to be?
After the blowup Ty and I had last night, I’m surprised he even spoke to me this morning.
2
Tyler
Being a single parent is my new normal. My life has become hell as I take on the role of both mother and father to the daughter we brought into this world with love. Getting a baby ready in the morning is not an easy task; the amount of stuff one little person needs is ridiculous. The bottles, the extra clothes, and the special blanket my mom made for her are just a few of the things this little one needs. Not to mention, she demands snuggles in the morning. At this young age, I can already tell our baby is not a morning person, like her mother. The drive to my parents’ house is too long not to feed her beforehand, and she’s the slowest eater. She’d rather play more than nourish her little body.
My mom is a godsend. I have no idea what I would do without my mom, Justine, and Hildy. Hell, neither Emma nor I are related to Hildy, yet she takes Aspen once or twice a week to give my mom a break. I can’t leave her at home with Emma.
I don’t know what Emma does at home during the day. I mentioned it to her a couple of nights ago. “Since you are not staying at home with the baby as we planned, have you thought about going back to work?”
“We hired someone to take my spot, remember? You see him every day.” That was her snarky reply. I had always loved the fact we worked together, but knowing she’d be at home with our daughter throughout the day made the idea of not seeing her at work, as I had for years, a little easier to take.
“Yes, but I’m not talking about coming back to work with us at Wallace and Hunter. You’re a bookkeeper, accountant galore. A jack-of-all-trades with glowing references, if I may add,” I said, laughing at myself. “You could find a job anywhere.”
“I’m not well enough to work yet.”
“Are you still seeing Dr. Marini?”
“No, he’s a quack.”
“Okay, let me find someone who specializes in postpartum depression, and I’ll set you up with a new doctor as soon as I can.” After she spent six weeks in an impatient facility, I thought she was on the road to recovery.
“Dammit, Tyler, I don’t have postpartum. That baby almost killed me. I’m scared to death. I can’t do anything for her. I’m not the woman you married anymore.”
Of course, I couldn’t accept this. The statement that just came out of her mouth was not the first time I’d come face to face with her words. Somehow, the near-death experience caused some sort of psychosis within her mind. “We probably won’t have any more kids, so I don’t think you have to worry about dying in childbirth again.” I knew it was a dick thing to say, but I wasn’t sure how to help her when she didn’t want to help herself.
“That is for damn sure,” she said, stomping away.
She certainly doesn’t clean the house while I’m at work. Dishes are piled high in the sink with a lingering smell that could rival a dump. Whenever I enter the house, I find small deposits of laundry; her way of telling me they need attention. Our once tidy house looks like a war zone. Emma, who’d been borderline OCD, now treats our home with absolute disregard, just as she does with every other part of our life. I try to remind her how much we wanted Aspen, knowing she’ll probably be our only child.
When I step into Aspen’s room, one we decorated together with a fervent desire for this baby we were lucky to bring into this world, I remember it took us days to agree on a theme for her room. Knowing we were having a little girl, I pushed for pure pink with the idea of swaddling my own daughter. Emma, on the other hand, pushed for something not so over the top. I would have been happy with a boy, but protecting a girl as I had watched Emma’s dad do for years was what I desired.
“Tyler, do you know how gaudy all this pink is?” I laughed because Emma was never a girly girl. Feminine, yes. Sexy, fuck yes. But over-the-top makeup and pink? Never.
“Then what do you want for our little girl’s room?”
I watched Emma’s eyes sparkle as she pulled up an idea on Pinterest. The room was painted in black and aqua blue with a girly chandelier and antiqued black furniture; I looked at Emma, knowing I couldn’t say no to her. But more so, I didn’t want to. Like Emma, this room was perfect for our sweet little girl.
Bringing myself back to the present, I think of how Emma just turned down my offer to visit Rose in the hospital. I’m restless as I look at my slumbering baby in her crib. Turning away from her, I feel guilty for bringing this baby into a world where she isn’t surrounded by the love of her mother. I love Emma, always will. I won’t give up on my wife, but I can’t reconcile how to continue with this sort of division in our home.
Aspen stirs as she coos. Leaning over to pick her up, I say, “Hey there, precious girl. I’m so glad you got back to sleep last night.” I think of the news concerning Rose’s baby being born with Down syndrome and how this little fact might help Emma snap out of what she’s going through. But it just resulted in a fight that ended up waking the baby.
I miss my wife. Even though she’s in the same house, we barely see each other. She has taken over the spare room and stays in there most of the time, her attention glued to the television. I can only explain her actions during the day when Aspen is awake as a vegetative state. I remember my grandmother at the end of her life, and when I look in on Emma, she looks like Gram did. The second Aspen is down for the night, she pops up, as if she has made a speedy recovery, only to repeat the next day.
I’m not sure she will ever return to me. It’s been six months, and I fucking miss her more every day. I can’t sleep without her. Insomnia takes over because it is hard to sleep alone in a bed where I’m used to Emma being.
When Nick, my father-in-law, called me last night, I was fraught with anticipation for the news of Brody and Rose’s baby. The second I heard his voice, the nerves lacing Nick’s words were all I needed to understand the news was not what we’d hoped. I have known my business partner and father-in-law long enough that my heart sank. “Rose is in good spirits. Their baby is healthy, but she will have challenges.” Nick’s upbeat attitude was always present. “Justine is with Rose now.” He continued to fill me in on the newest member of our family.
Before I end the call, I say, “We have got to do something with Ems. Meet me at the clinic before it opens.”
I can’t help but feel guilty. We have this baby, a healthy baby, and Rose, Emma’s sister, is grieving for what she thought her daughter would be. But knowing Rose as I do, she’s kicking everyone’s ass who feels sorry for her and Brody. She’s probably saying, “Our baby is healthy and I’m healthy.” Rose takes life as it’s given and never looks back. I’ve been impressed with how she’s taken the news of her unexpected pregnancy with all the adversities of both Jones and Brody. Through all this, Rose has never once felt sorry for herself. My wife was like that at one time, too. Boy, what I would give to have her back.
I spoke with Emma this morning, trying to get her to come to the hospital with me to see her new niece, but hell, she wouldn’t even acknowledge our own child. After dropping Aspen off with my mom, I head to work earlier than normal to talk with Nick, but I do not intend to tell him that Emma fired her psychiatrist.
3
Emma
He finally leaves. He doesn’t realize I want nothing more than to be the mom I should be and the wife he deserves. I remember how I’ve been his accomplice in all his many pranks staged throughout our life together. He’s the one I have made love to, never tiring of his strong hands on every part of my body. At every Christmas we celebrated together, his only request was for me to dress in nothing but a ribbon, and I was happy to oblige.
Memories overtake me of every single Christmas we woke up together. One Christmas, I played a dirty version of hide and seek. When he found me, I was lying next to the tree.
“Holy hell, woman. What are you doing to me? I thought we had a pretty tree, but it is nothing comp
ared to you,” he said to me, wearing his Christmas boxers—another one of our many holiday traditions.
As he walked closer to me, I saw the V of his abdomen. I’d memorized this man’s body over the many years we’d been together, yet I never tired of seeing it, and I was instantly wet.
“Every Christmas, it gets better, Ems. You get better,” he said as he found my core and smiled. “How are you this wet already?” he asked.
“This is what you do to me, Ty. I love your touch, and I’ll never tire of it.”
As we made love near the tree that Christmas morning, I had never felt closer to him.
As I find my way back to reality, I long to be that same Emma. Hell, I want to find her, but it is hopeless.
In the kitchen, my plan is to make a cup of tea until I walk by our gas stove, and it comes to mind; what I must do. It will be peaceful, and Tyler and the baby will be able to go on with their life.
