The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  “Casey Dwyer, I’ve never met a woman like ya before. You’re stunnin’ and intelligent, kind and warm, and mysterious in ways that I can’t explain. Ya have opened up a part of my heart that I didn’t know even existed to begin with. I know that we haven’t been together all that long, but it’s long enough for me to know that I have fallen completely in love with ya. These last few months have been the happiest in my entire life. I want nothin’ more than to spend the rest of my days with ya.”

  He rose from his seat, knelt before her, and said, “So, love, would ya do me the great honor of makin’ me the happiest man alive? Would ya be my wife?”

  He opened the small box to reveal the most amazing engagement ring that Casey had ever seen. The female inside of her could not help but become entranced by the brilliance of the princess-cut diamond. Though the single stone had to be at least two carats, the band was simple and elegant. Conor had chosen that particular ring because it suited her perfectly. As her heart exploded within the confines of her chest, Casey’s tear-filled eyes met Conor’s, hopeful and anxious for her answer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, pushing back her chair as the floodgates opened and the tears began to streak her face. She ran toward the elevator, pushing the button frantically. Luckily it opened quickly and she leapt inside. She prodded the button frantically until the doors began to close. The last thing she saw through the crack in the elevator doors was the pained look on Conor’s face. He stared at her motionless, heartbroken. She might as well have ripped his heart right out with her bare hands.

  Once the elevator doors closed, and she was making her descent, she leaned against one of the walls and sobbed. She buried her face in her hands, weeping uncontrollably.

  When she reached ground level and the doors opened, she burst through them in an attempt to flee quickly. She could not let Conor catch up to her. Though she knew that he deserved an explanation, she could not face him right now. She never wanted to see that look of despair on his face again.

  When she rushed through the front doors of the building and out onto the street, Casey immediately wrapped her arms around herself to shield her skin from the cold. She had left the restaurant in such a rush she had forgotten her jacket. The streets were mostly empty, but there was the occasional taxi that passed her by. She waved her arms and yelled to get the attention of a driver. So far, nobody was stopping.

  “Shit,” she said out loud, hoping that one would take pity on the girl with no jacket, freezing out in the snow. She had to get away from here before…

  “What the shite was that about?” Conor said from behind her.

  Casey closed her eyes, fear and panic setting in again. I am not ready for this, she thought as she slowly turned to meet his broken eyes. Tears streamed swiftly down her cheek, and she shivered from both the cold and her icy emotions equally.

  “Here love, put on your coat. It is freezin’ out here.” Conor walked over to wrap her in her thick jacket, and she wanted so badly to throw herself into his arms.

  “I am so sorry.” It was all that she could manage through the sobbing. She felt that she might choke on the lump in her throat.

  “Love, if ya don’t want to marry me, all ya had to do was say so. There was no need to run out of the restaurant like a crazy person.” He stopped, desperate for a response. “I mean, I know that we haven’t been together long. We can wait. Just tell me.” He ran his hand along the back of his head. He was obviously so confused by all of this. It is time.

  “Conor, I am pregnant.” The words just popped out of Casey’s mouth. She had no control over what she was saying.

  His jaw dropped so far, Casey was surprised it did not hit the concrete.

  “What?” he said. His eyes lit up in a way that she had never seen before. “Ya are pregnant? With me child?” The way he said it struck her as odd. Of course it was his baby. A smile began to creep across his face. “I’m gon’ ta be a father?”

  The words charred Casey’s heart. She had to say this now, or she would lose her nerve. “No, you aren’t going to be a father,” she choked through sobs, “because I am not keeping it.”

  She might as well have clocked him across the face with a shovel. Conor stared at her blankly, stunned by her words. From the look on his face, Casey knew that if she had not broken his heart from running away from his proposal, it was in a million pieces now.

  “What do ya mean, no’ keeping it’? Ya canno’ be serious?”

  “I cannot have this baby. I have decided to have an abortion,” she said. She knew that this was the right decision, but why was she regretting saying the words already?

  Conor stepped back as if he had just taken a fist to the gut. He looked at her with disgust, which was well suited to the way that she was feeling.

  “Why? Why would ya want to do that?” His voice rose and cracked, his emotion overwhelming him. “I thought that we had somethin’. I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I love ya. Please, just help me understand this.” He waited for Casey to say something, but there were no words. “I mean, I pick out the perfect ring for me perfect gal, propose to her, and she says nothin’. She runs out on me into the snow then tells me she bares my child, but wants to kill it? Why? I don’t understand ya, Casey.”

  The words “kill it” sliced open her heart. She might as well have been bleeding on the sidewalk. She hung her head, still unable to speak.

  “Why?” Conor said loudly, not quite a yell. He was getting angry with her now, a side of him that she had never experienced. She wondered what he would do next? How would he handle his anger? Would he be mean or degrading? Would he hit her like Jace had? She almost hoped he would—it would make it so much easier to walk away.

  “Please, Casey. Explain it to me, love,” he pleaded with her. He was not like Jace at all. He was not angry—he was in pain. Her eyes met his again, those beautiful gems flustered with massive tears that now escaped and streamed down his face.

  “Please,” he said once more, pleading desperately for an explanation, any explanation.

  “I…” Casey thought for a moment of telling him all about Jace and the baby—just laying her past right there in the snow. Letting all of this be over.

  In the end, she just could not face any more of it right now. “I can’t have another baby, okay? I am sorry.”

  Conor was struck dumbfounded by what she had just said as she saw a single cab coming right toward them. Hoping to God that this was the out that she needed from this terrible situation, Casey put her thumb and middle finger in her mouth and whistled loudly. The cab came to a screeching halt, sliding in the snow that covered the street. She got in before Conor could ask any questions. As the cab pulled away, all she could see was Conor standing on the sidewalk, his hair covered in large flakes of snow. He stood still, staring at nothing in particular. The sight broke her heart. She looked back at him until the snow consumed him, and he was out of sight. Only then could she bear to look away. She sobbed the whole way home.

  When she arrived at her apartment, she went straight to her room. She had no idea if Sammie was home, nor did she care. She wanted to be alone. Once inside the safety of her space, she dropped onto her bed and hugged her pillow tight. She drew in deep breaths, Conor’s scent still lingering from the last time he had slept beside her. Her heart was broken. A reel of the evening played over and over in her head. She compared the look on his face as he proposed to her to the destroyed look at the moment that she broke his heart. She knew in that moment that she would not recover from this night.

  Her mind raced with questions. Why had she done this? Why couldn’t she keep the baby? Why was she so afraid? Why did Conor come into her life at all? Why did Jace have to ruin her for all other men? For every question, there was no answer. There was no reason for anyone’s life to be this difficult. What was the point?

  Then, she remembered something her grandmother had always told her when she brought home a bad grade, or failed to make the team, “Whatever does
n’t kill you makes you stronger.” What a crock of shit, Casey thought. She would rather die than live through this heartache. She wanted to be weak, and there was going to be no coming back from this. She sobbed until she fell asleep, something that she was quite used to at this junction in her life.

  Chapter 34

  Over the course of the next week, Casey eventually became numb to the pain. She was sick with depression, but not even her alarming symptoms made a difference to her. She barely ate, only giving in to Sammie’s incessant nagging.

  The night after the break-up, she had lain in her friend’s lap and told her the whole story through her relentless weeping. Sammie had spared Casey her opinion on the whole situation and done her best to comfort her. Casey loved that about Sammie—she knew when to keep her mouth shut and just be there.

  Casey’s phone had been silent only until the morning after she left Conor standing alone in the snow. His calls and texts had been numerous at first, but were now beginning to fade. Casey wondered if he was beginning to accept their break-up, or if he was just as depressed as she was. She wanted so many times to answer when he called, to tell him that she was sorry, or maybe tell him about her past in hopes that he would understand. In the end, she decided against it. She needed to have the abortion soon, or this would all have been for nothing.

  Casey spent so much time wallowing in her despair that week that she did not realize that it was almost Christmas. On the Saturday before the holiday, after she had been holed up in her room for nearly a week, Casey finally decided to emerge from her cave.

  She was surprised to find the apartment completely decorated. There was a nine-foot tree, adorned with beautiful hues of purple and silver. There were twinkling lights draped throughout the apartment. Red and green ribbons were shaped into bows and placed in various locations. A small collection of nutcrackers lined the mantel of the lit fireplace, which gave off a warmth that had a calming effect. Instrumental holiday music played softly on the stereo.

  “What’s all this?” Casey asked as Sammie sat down a small box that was once filled to the brim with decorations.

  “I hope you don’t mind. You have just been so down lately, and next week is Christmas. I thought maybe some decorations might make you feel better.” Sammie seemed cautious that any little trigger would send Casey back into her room for another week.

  “I don’t mind,” Casey reassured her. “It’s beautiful.”

  She gazed at the twinkling lights, wondering what Conor would be doing for Christmas. Trying to push him from her mind, Casey grabbed a blanket from the couch and stood at the balcony door. The snow had been falling for days, the pale winter sky looming above the city. Before the accident, Casey had always loved Christmas. Even in the piercing Texas cold, the holiday had always brought her such joy. Throughout the whole month of December, Casey would wear a constant smile on her face. Now, the month just seemed frigid.

  Casey’s eyes were drawn to the spot where she and Conor had fulfilled her fantasy on the balcony. That seemed like ages ago now. She slid open the door and stepped out. She slid it shut behind her, closed her eyes, and stood completely still. When she finally opened them, she thought of the roses that were planted around the walls. They were once so beautiful and full of life. Now they were bare and lifeless. She reached to touch one of the stems. In the middle of a brutal New England winter, the rose appeared dead, but only lay dormant, patiently waiting for spring. She wondered if, like the rose, she would ever bloom again?

  On Monday, Casey decided that it was time for her to have the procedure. She dressed warmly in loose sweats and pulled her hair into a simple ponytail. She did not bother with makeup, knowing that she would probably cry during and after the procedure. She gathered her strength as best she could, but still felt the need duck and run.

  She took a cab to the office that she had researched on the Internet the night before, her heart racing the entire time. Once she was inside, she filled out the necessary forms and took a seat in the waiting room.

  She studied the faces of the women in the room. A few of the girls were obviously underage, as they sat with their mothers, nervously biting their fingernails. Casey wanted so badly to tell them it would all be okay, and that it would not hurt for long, but she was unsure if she even believed that. She still mourned the loss of the child from her first abortion, and she feared she always would. Now she would mourn the loss of three children, which did not seem natural to her at all.

  There were also a handful of young women who looked to be in their early twenties. She searched their faces for any sign of nervousness or impending remorse. Finding none, she figured that they were more than likely college girls who had a little too much to drink at a party, and had unprotected sex. They probably just wanted to get it over with and get on with their lives.

  The other women in the room were harder to peg. Maybe they had too many children already and could not afford another, or their boyfriends had broken up with them, and they lacked the desire to raise a child alone.

  Casey thought about her own situation. She had a man that loved her so much that he wanted to marry her. He was wealthy and gorgeous. He wanted a family with her. Casey, unlike probably every other woman in the room, had no reason not to want this child. She looked down at her stomach as if waiting for the tiny, undeveloped baby to give her a sign. Ending a pregnancy out of ungrounded fear seemed wrong. Taking the life of her unborn child as a result of her past seemed wrong. How did she really know what the future would hold? What were the chances that history could repeat itself? Question after question created chaos in her mind until…

  “Casey Dwyer?” The minute that Casey heard her name, she panicked. She had about thirty seconds to decide if she really wanted to go through with this. “Casey Dwyer?” the nurse called again.

  Casey stood on unstable legs. Her eyes met the nurse’s. She took a couple of steps, though everything inside of her was screaming, “Stop!” She knew in that moment that she could not go through with it.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t.” The words escaped her lips, and the nurse nodded her head in understanding. Casey turned to walk out of the building, her mind suddenly quiet, and her heart beating at a normal pace. When she stepped back out into the December air, it did not seem so cold. Though she had no idea what to do next, she felt relieved with her decision not to abort the baby.

  Casey decided to walk home, the winter snow seeming less frigid now. She rubbed her belly as she walked, saying I’m so sorry over and over in her head. There was no turning back now, and Casey knew that she needed to find a way to get over her past, and fast. If she was going to keep the baby, she could keep Conor, too, if he would still have her.

  As she walked down the street, warmth coursed through her veins, and though she was still distraught about Conor, the urge to Christmas shop took over. Casey passed a store with a crib in the window. She was drawn to the cherry color of the oak, and decided to go inside and have a look. As far as she knew, Sammie did not have a crib for the baby and Casey had not yet bought her best friend a Christmas present. She entered the store with a smile on her face, and browsed for not only Sammie, but for herself as well. She had never felt so sure about anything in her life as she did about her decision that day.

  Chapter 35

  On Christmas morning, Sammie and Casey sat on the couch before a newly lit fire sipping coffee. The snow was still falling, and the twinkling lights from the tree danced in the dim apartment. Her present to her best friend was set to arrive, fully assembled, at 10 a.m. Casey had to pay a boatload extra to have it delivered on Christmas morning. She vowed to never shop so close to Christmas again, but was excited to be able to surprise Sammie.

  “So, I have to tell you something,” Casey said between sips of the steaming liquid.

  “Okay?” Sammie said, probably wondering what horrible news was sure to come.

  “I went to the abortion clinic the other day,” Casey said. She studied Sammie’s face as it
fell in disappointment. “I couldn’t do it.”

  “What?” Sammie said, her shocked face now glowing.

  “I went in and filled out the paperwork. I was set on it. Then, I started looking at all the other women in the room. They all seemed so, I don’t know, different from me? I started to think about how they were probably in way worse situations than I was. Most of them probably had no other option, ya know? I knew that I did have another option, I was just afraid.” Casey took another sip of her coffee, trying to forget that she had ever thought of having the abortion in the first place. Getting rid of the baby would not erase the past.

  “So, you are having a baby?” she asked, the volume of her voice rising with her excitement.

  “I’m having a baby,” Casey said, flooded with happiness for what seemed like the first time in ages.

  Sammie squealed in delight, and set her coffee down on the table. She threw her arms around Casey and hugged her tight. “Oh, Case, I am so happy for you. Conor is going to be so excited!”

  “I’m not so sure about that. He probably will never forgive me. What kind of person runs away from a marriage proposal like I did?” Casey was worried about what was going to happen when she finally spoke to Conor. Would he look at her in disgust? Would he forgive her? She feared that something between them would be forever altered, broken.

  “Oh, Casey, just talk to him. The man obviously loves you. And he was happy about having a baby, right? You just need to be open with him. Tell him about the past. It’s time.”

  Casey knew that Sammie was right. Conor deserved to know. Her heart wrenched thinking about him, alone on Christmas day. Was he sitting in his cocoa leather chair in front of a fire? Was he taking small sips of the dark Irish whiskey that he loved so much? Was he thinking of her? Was he alone at all?