In an instant, he remembered why he was there. There had been an “emergency” Shawn had said. But she was here all alone. Tracy suddenly turned and saw him, doing a double-take as though not quite believing her eyes, and then she smiled.
“Brendan.”
She moved as though to get up but Brendan held out a hand to stop her and went over to her, quickly kneeling next to the lounger, finding himself suddenly tongue-tied. Tracy didn’t seem inclined to speak either and twice opened her mouth as though to say something and stopped herself before managing it.
“I’m guessing you heard,” she finally said.
He nodded, feeling his throat beginning to tighten.
“Are you . . ?”
Tracy shrugged and then nodded. “Okay? Yes. I guess.” Her voice sounded heavy. “Tired.”
Brendan placed a hand gently, tentatively on her abdomen.
“Now I’m on bed-rest for a couple days just to make sure. I thought I lost her . . .”
His head jerked up and he looked at her. “You didn’t? I thought . . .”
Tracy was shaking her head, and then put a hand at the side of his face. “No, Brendan, no . . . I thought you said you heard. It was a false alarm. I didn’t lose the baby.”
And out of nowhere, there was a rush of an emotion the likes of which he had never experienced before, and he was crying and pressing his face into her stomach and Tracy was stroking his head and kissing the side of his face, and Brendan was thanking the God that looked after fools—like him—and children.
________
Sleeping again.
Brendan had never known Tracy to sleep this much, but soon after Riley returned—she’d been out getting food from a local deli—Tracy said she thought she’d go lie down for a little while. As she was about to make her way up the enormous staircase back to the suite Brendan had lifted her off her feet and carried her, even though she protested the entire way, saying that he was overreacting. It didn’t feel like an overreaction. Now, out of nowhere it seemed more important than almost anything that she have this baby and that it be healthy. And he couldn’t pretend anymore that it was only because it was important to Tracy. Without him noticing when or how, it had become important to him, too.
After her nap, Tracy had taken a shower and gone to stand out on the balcony of the suite, looking across the expanse of land surrounding the house. She said nothing, and seemed not just pensive, but a little sad. Brendan watched her from the bedroom, wishing he could think of something to say that would make her smile. Not too long ago, he used to make her smile all the time, and laugh, too. Loud, rip-roaring, roll over and grab her stomach laughs. And nothing in the world was like the sound of Tracy’s laughter.
What used to feel almost burdensome—the ease with which he could alter her moods—he yearned for now. But Tracy was someplace else, far away. Even when he called her name, when Riley came upstairs with something for her to eat, it took her a moment to respond as though she barely heard him.
She’s planning her life without me.
The thought startled and scared him. While Tracy was eating, Brendan went downstairs and called his office, arranging for Brett to have his laptop and some files from his desk brought to the house.
When the sun set, he was still there, but sitting out back when Riley came to join him. She was carrying a beer, already opened, which she handed to him.
“Hungry?” she asked. “There’s plenty of food.”
Brendan took the beer, but shook his head. At the moment, the only striking thing about his appetite was its complete absence.
“You should go home to your husband and kids,” he said. “I think I got this.”
Riley looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
“I got it,” he said.
“You’re just making it harder, don’t you think?” she asked.
“Making what harder?”
“Harder for her to move on.”
“She’s not moving on,” Brendan said, trying to keep from raising his voice.
“I hate to break it to you, Brendan, but I think you really blew it this time.”
“I didn’t do anything that would . . .”
“That’s just the problem with you. You never do anything. You let her do everything. She’s always the one who’s fighting for your relationship. And I think there is officially no more fight in her.” Riley sat on a lounger next to his. “So . . .” she shrugged.
“She’s pregnant with my kid, and I’m not going anywhere,” Brendan said. “Not today, not tomorrow, not the day after that.”
Riley looked at him skeptically. “So you’re prepared to stay here.”
“For as long as it takes,” Brendan confirmed.
“As long as what takes?” Riley demanded. “Do you even know your mission? What are you hoping to accomplish?”
“For starters, I’d like to accomplish you staying out of our business. Tracy doesn’t need you to speak for her, Riley. She’s never needed anyone to speak for her. And if she did, that person would be me.”
Riley’s mouth opened as though she was about to say something then she shut it again, and finally appearing to have thought of a retort, opened it once more. And then shut it.
“Okay,” she said after a moment
Brendan leaned back in the lounger, took a long, deep swallow of his beer and shut his eyes.
When he opened them again, the sun had set and it was dark. He could hear activity in the foyer; Riley’s voice and that of another person. Going out to investigate, Brendan saw that it was one of AAs from So Def with his computer and work papers.
“Mr. Cole,” she said. “Where would you like these?”
Brendan directed her out back. He would probably do most of his work there. It would be a change of pace to work while looking out at greenery and a pool.
“So,” Riley said. “If you’re going to be here for awhile, you might want to go grocery shopping. I got more than enough for tonight, but apparently Tracy’s been living on take-out.”
“Grocery-shopping?” Brendan echoed.
Riley smiled at him. “Well, you were the one who told me you got this. So I’m sure you’ll take care of it.” And then she was taking out her car keys and heading for the door. She paused only long enough to look up the stairs. “Last I checked she was still sleeping. The doctor says she should stay off her feet as much as possible at least for another day. And if there’s any cramping or bleeding, she’s to go in right away.”
At the mention of cramping and bleeding, Brendan’s confidence that he could handle everything diminished considerably.
“But her doctor’s in the city . . .”
“The OB up here consulted with her doctor by phone when she went in last night. They both agreed that she should take it easy for a couple days before trying to drive back,” Riley hesitated at the door, probably taking note of the hint of panic his eyes. “It’ll be fine,” she said, her tone reassuring. “I know you’ll take good care of her.”
When Riley and the AA from his office were both gone, Brendan walked about the house, locking doors and windows.
What the hell were Shawn and Riley thinking in the first damn place buying a house with all this square footage? Probably planning to populate it with a dozen kids.
According to Shawn, the second pregnancy was a surprise, but once they had her, they’d started talking about maybe having a couple more. All of their relationship issues, the things that had created fissures between Shawn and Riley seemed so definitively resolved that now they were in a position to think about having not just one kid, not just two, but several.
Would it ever be like that for him and Tracy? Would they even make it past tomorrow? Everything about their relationship challenged what Brendan had always believed—that with every couple there had to come a time when your relationship got ‘settled’ and you could relax. With Tracy, he didn’t even know what that felt like. Together they were like a quiet storm of emotion, restlessly thrashi
ng back and forth, even in the times when everything on the surface was just fine. But what she’d said to him that night in the apartment; maybe it was true, it wasn’t her nature that was responsible for the sense of unsettledness, but his. He was the one who was always trying to make her something she wasn’t.
Brendan found his computer and carried it upstairs to the suite. Still sleeping. It was only seven o’clock, but she didn’t look anywhere close to coming out of it. He sat on the armchair near the bed and found the website of a place that would deliver groceries and browsed for a while, wondering at what seemed like his utter inability to navigate a task so simple.
Tracy had always done most of this for them. She was the one who did the actual shopping; he was just the guy who carried the bags. Before her, he only ever bought his food one meal at a time, an arrangement that seemed to work for him until she’d introduced him to the joy of a home-cooked meal. Home as in his home, their home; not his mother’s or that of some other older female relative.
Brendan glanced over at the bed where in the last few moments, Tracy had turned over onto her stomach. Setting aside the computer, he made his way over to her quietly, hoping not to wake her unnecessarily, but to gently turn her over onto her back. He had no idea if it mattered but he had the ridiculous fleeting thought that if she lay on her abdomen, she might crush their baby.
When he put an arm at her ribcage, just beneath her breasts, hoping to roll her over, Tracy turned toward him, burying her face in his chest. Still asleep, she heaved a deep sigh.
“Brendan,” she murmured, almost as though in relief.
________
The omelet was a lot crispier than she would have made it herself, and the coffee had clearly been sitting for a while, but Tracy attempted a smile as Brendan set the tray in front of her and pretended not to watch him as he went to sit a few feet away where he’d set up his little satellite office. For the last couple days, he’d been with her here at the house, fetching her things, bringing her meals to her, helping her up and down the stairs as though she was an invalid. Tracy kept waiting for him to get tired of it, or to tell her that there was just one important meeting he had to go back to the city for.
But he didn’t.
Instead he hovered and fussed and basically got on her nerves for being so underfoot all the time. But another part of her loved it, because he was trying so, so hard. It almost made her laugh the previous evening when he brought her a salad so soaked with dressing the spinach leaves were wilted, and called it the “first course” of her dinner. She’d eaten it all, even though the balsamic vinaigrette was a little too tart and sharp for her pregnant palate.
Waking up the first morning around three a.m., Tracy was momentarily confused by the weight behind her in the bed, and even more so when she turned to find that it was Brendan. Even though he’d come up that afternoon, it still seemed more likely that it would have been Riley. He was still fully dressed and had only kicked off his shoes. Tracy lay there watching him for some time, wondering whether it might be better for her to sleep elsewhere. Not because she didn’t want him next to her but because it felt so right that he was. And she couldn’t afford to get pulled in again. Brendan was here because it was ‘the right thing to do’, that was all. She couldn’t afford to get all mushy and hopeful; she had to reserve all of her emotional currency for getting through this pregnancy and having a healthy baby girl; and with Brendan around, the temptation to spend all that currency on him was far too great.
So Tracy had gotten up and curled up on the armchair, turning on the television but keeping the volume low. She watched Home & Garden Television for a little while until Brendan stirred, turning and reaching over in his sleep, then bolting upright and finally spotting her.
Rubbing his eyes, he’d sighed and pulled his shirt over his head, removed his pants and socks and reached out a hand to her.
C’mere, it’s still too early to be up.
He said it like they hadn’t just broken off their engagement. Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be there with her, and so Tracy relented even though his presence was upsetting her progress. Her progress had been slow, and definitely painful but before her scare with the baby, she’d almost gotten used to sleeping alone again and was just beginning to use the entire bed, no longer reserving the space to her left for Brendan. But now he was there next to her, and it was impossible not to burrow into him, and revel in the comfort of having him so close after being away so long.
Tracy picked at the omelet and took one sip of the coffee, grimacing at the taste.
“You probably should have tea anyway,” Brendan said.
Tracy looked over at him. Apparently he’d been watching her as well though he appeared engrossed in whatever was on his computer screen.
“What kind?” he asked.
“What?”
“What kind of tea?” he looked up from the computer. “Riley has maybe a hundred kinds in there. Whatever you want, I bet she has it.”
“You don’t have to get me tea,” Tracy said wearily. “I can get tea if that’s what I feel like.”
“Is it?”
“Is it what?”
“What you feel like,” Brendan said.
Tracy sighed and pushed back, away from the table in front of her and the tray of food and disgustingly bitter coffee.
“Brendan, why are you here?” she asked. “I don’t need anyone shadowing me and . . . bringing me stuff all the time. The doctor said I should take it easy and I have. I’m fine. I’ll probably go back to the city in the morning, so . . .” Her voice sounded strained, tired, even to herself.
Brendan looked at her.
“Where else would I be?” he asked finally. And his voice was quiet, like he was addressing a mental patient.
“Working. I don’t know. Doing whatever it is you always do.”
That sounded bitter. And she didn’t want to sound bitter. She’d been doing fine, just fine managing her feelings about this new reality of hers.
Why did he have to come here?
Why did he have to cry when she told him the baby was fine?
Why couldn’t she just stop . . . loving him?
Tracy felt tears rising to her eyes and stood abruptly, not wanting to break down in front of him. But as quickly as she stood, he did too and was at her side in an instant.
“Stop doing that!” she swatted her hands at him, almost flailing them.
The gesture must have looked ridiculous because Brendan stifled a laugh and grabbed her into a loose hug, his face in her hair—which had to look like hell since she hadn’t bothered fussing with it for weeks now.
“Someone’s pregnancy hormones must be kicking in,” he said.
“It’s not pregnancy hormones!” she screamed at him. “I just don’t want you here!”
Brendan released her and they stared at each other. He looked as though he was trying to decide whether she was serious or not, studying her. But behind all that, Tracy thought there might be a little hurt.
Oh, she hoped so. She hoped he hurt. Just a fraction of her hurt would be plenty.
“Just leave me alone!” Tracy screamed again.
They stood there, looking at each other, and Tracy lost the battle against her tears. Streaming down her face now, they seemed to be coming in buckets. She ignored them because wiping them away would only make her look pitiful and she didn’t want Brendan to do that . . . thing he did where he thought he needed to look after her, like it was his job or something, like she was a chore no one else wanted . . .
“I can’t,” he said quietly. And then he gave a small shrug.
“What?” Tracy looked up at him. Her nose was running now, and that she did wipe with the back of her hands.
“I can’t. Leave you alone.”
Tracy felt the tremors in her lower lip and bit into it hard to make it stop. “Yes you can, Brendan. You’re always leaving me.”
He nodded a little and looked down at the g
round, and Tracy thought he was about to agree with her, and would finally acknowledge that . . .
“No,” he said unexpectedly. “Even if that was what I wanted to do, you never give me a chance to Tracy, because you always leave me first.”
“Oh great,” she said. “I left you first. That’s really matu . . .” She turned to walk away but he grabbed her arm.
“See?” he said, his voice still measured. “You’re doing it again.”
Tracy stood there, her chest rising and falling. Did she . . ?
“That’s how it happens with us. I express doubt, you get scared, you leave me; I let you go. I come back. You leave me. I come back. I come back. I come back,” Brendan said. “I always come back. And I never leave you, Tracy. You leave me.”
She stood there, motionless, Brendan’s hand still grasping her arm. Tracy tried to think . . . but she was confused now. He did leave her. He had. Thinking back over the course of their relationship there were times when he had . . .
Had he?
Tracy glanced up at him. He was waiting; waiting for her to see it on her own.
“You almost made me believe I had,” he said now. “Almost. Because I did something stupid and hung out with an ex-girlfriend . . .”
“And said you didn’t give a shit about our wedding. Let’s not forget that little gem,” Tracy snapped.
“Tracy,” Brendan said. He put a hand under her chin and tipped her head back so she was looking at him. “The wedding is just an event. A moment in time. All I meant was that’s not where our focus should be—on the flowers, the music . . . I’d marry you barefoot in a bathrobe in Times Square if that’s what you wanted . . .”
Tracy almost smiled. But she couldn’t allow herself to hope. It was too dangerous. This time she would be crushed if . . .
“I had doubts,” Brendan said. “I admit that . . .”
Tracy tried to look down but he tipped her chin upward again.
“Is that okay?” he demanded. “For me to have doubts?”
Maybe Never Page 10
