He gathered my hair at the nape of my neck in one hand, much like he was preparing to put it in a ponytail. With a quick motion he raised it gently off my back. Then he began to comb, starting at the very bottom and working his way up. I shivered, partially from his touch and partially from the memories this evoked.
“Looks like we’re coming full circle,” I said softly.
He didn’t respond.
I closed my eyes, reveling in his nearness. Even if he wasn’t answering, he was still combing. More importantly, he wasn’t yelling or reading me the riot act. When he did finally speak, his words startled me.
“Why blue?” Chris asked.
“Hmmm?”
“Your hair. Why’d you pick blue?”
I shrugged. “To be honest with you, it’s what I could find at the drugstore the first time I decided to do it. It kind of just stuck. If you’re looking for something more poetic, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“It matches your eyes.”
“A strange coincidence. Or maybe not. Maybe I found it because I was meant to.”
The conversation apparently over, I settled back into the lull of his fingers running through my hair, following the path left behind by the comb. The soothing motion of his hands combined with the late hour made me want to rest my head against one of his legs and drift off to sleep, but I knew there was still a wall between us. One that would take much more than recreating our first moment after to tear down.
“Come on,” he said when he was finished, “let’s go to bed.”
He extended his hand to help me off the floor, then led me to the room on the right. A full size bed stood in the center of the space, it and a single dresser nearly taking up the whole area. On the wall opposite us was a closet with sliding doors. Painted renter’s off-white, it was nothing to write home about.
Chris pulled back the bedspread and motioned for me to get in. I did as instructed, not sure if I was relived or disappointed that there would be no more discussion tonight. I supposed I owed him time to digest everything, to wrap his head around it so that he could speak rationally. I was exhausted. I wasn’t certain that I could begin to defend my actions - or inactions - at this point.
Our eyes met as he covered me up with the comforter. I felt the need to say something, anything, but any words I could string together seemed to fall so short of what I meant to say.
“I’m sorry, Chris,” I said simply.
He said nothing. With a shrug, he turned to go.
“Wait,” I called to his back. “Where are you going?”
“To sleep on the couch.” He replied like it should have been obvious. He flipped off the light switch, leaving me in the dark in more ways than one. I could still see his shadow in the doorway, illuminated by the lamp burning in the other room.
I choked back a sob. He heard and spun around but made no move to come closer. Before I could stop myself, I reached out my hand for him and said the words I should have said that day I’d pushed him away for good. The ones that I’d wanted to say instead of what had ended up coming out.
“Please don’t leave me.”
My plea hung in the air for a painful second. Then he was climbing into bed beside me, careful not to get too close. In a bed that size it was easier said than done, but the space between us seemed cavernous. He bridged the gap with his arm, his fingers finding my hand and holding it tightly.
We both stared up at the ceiling for the longest time, saying nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When I woke up, I was alone. My eyes felt like sandpaper from sleeping in my contacts. I rubbed at them while trying to gather my bearings. Splaying my arms across the mattress, I deduced that Chris hadn’t slept beside me last night. The blanket had been tucked firmly around me, the space that he’d vacated cold. My heart sunk as I peeled off the bedspread to go find him.
He stood in the kitchen, hunched over his coffee maker as he poured himself a cup. He’d been up for a while, freshly showered and dressed in his paramedic gear. I stood in the doorway for a moment, mouth agape. First of all, he looked remarkably sexy in a uniform, but that wasn’t the true cause for my concern.
“What are you doing?” I asked a little more harshly than I’d intended.
He hadn’t been aware of me standing there, watching him. He jumped to attention, some of the coffee in his cup splattering against the countertop. Clearly he wasn’t used to living with someone else. He muttered a curse and then cleaned up the mess with a dishrag from the sink.
“I’m going to work,” he said like I was stupid. I really wished he’d stop with the attitude, even if I deserved everything he threw at me. To his credit, he did reach in the cupboard and produce another mug.
“You’re going to work?” I repeated as I took the cup intended for me.
“That’s what I said. Not all of us are self-employed. Some of us even have to work Sundays.”
“I seriously doubt that you wouldn’t ask to have the day after your best friend’s wedding off,” I pressed. I was glad I had a prop to play with; I could take a drink while I attempted to think of something relevant to say.
“If you must know, I called in this morning to pick up another shift.”
“Why? What were you going to do about me? Leave me stranded in your house?”
So much for sounding cool and collected. That just sounded desperate.
“I would have woken you up. And if you get ready, I’ll take you back to your car. I’ve got time.”
“Well thank goodness for small favors.”
I slammed the coffee cup back down on the counter and stomped into the bathroom, slamming the door for good measure. In an angry flash, I changed out of his t-shirt and back into my tank and shorts from yesterday morning. His shirt I purposefully left in a ball on the floor beside the hamper. Screw him.
He stood, amused, in the same location when I thrust open the door. He was totally unmoved by my outburst, which made me fume even more. I tried not to be affected by those eyes, the ones that appeared to worship me even as they drove me completely nuts.
“Blake, chill out,” he said finally.
“What?” I asked sharply, crossing my arms under my breasts. My bag was slung over my shoulder; it banged against my hip at my violent action.
He strode over, unhooking my bag from my arm and placing it on the floor.
“If you must know, I just need some time to not think about all of this. As silly as it sounds, when I’m at work, I operate on instinct. I just know what to do. Can you give me that much?”
I softened slightly, nodding. I wasn’t being fair to him. I was expecting him to come to terms with something overnight that I hadn’t fully processed in nearly a decade.
“Drink your coffee,” he commanded.
I obeyed, drinking beside him in silence. When we had both finished, he took the mugs and the coffee pot and washed them out in the sink, towel drying them and placing them in the cabinet. Either he was stalling for time or he had developed some obsessive compulsive tendencies in our time apart. Then he scooped up my bag, lifting it to his own shoulder.
“Ready?” he asked.
I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to be really needy, to grovel at his feet, wrap my arm around his leg and beg him to stay. But I nodded instead and followed him outside to the car. He helped me in the passenger side, then placed my bag in the backseat. We had reversed all the way down the driveway and pulled out onto the street before he spoke again.
“I didn’t sleep very much last night,” he admitted. “I stayed awake and watched you. The way the moonlight danced across your face, how you looked so peaceful. How you were more beautiful than I ever remembered.”
He stared straight ahead, not even sneaking a glance over at me. But I studied his face as he talked to me, letting him continue without interruption.
“And I felt so many things. An overwhelming sadness. Grief. Betrayal. Confusion. But the strongest thing I felt, the thing that over
rode everything else, was love.”
I realized that my fingernails were digging into my palms. It took all I had to unclench my fists and will myself to breathe normally.
“Were you ever going to tell me, Blake? Were you going to keep our baby?”
“Yes, Chris. Yes to both.”
“So why didn’t you let me help you?”
“Because at that point, our relationship was already on life support. We were fighting, you were mad at me. A pregnancy scare wasn’t going to help matters any. I wanted to make sure. I needed some time to wrap my head around it. I needed to be able to think rationally so that we could decide how we were going to handle it like adults. I didn’t want to pressure you into anything. I knew in the back of my head that you’d probably propose, and I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a pity marriage. I wanted to talk custody and who would pay for what. I wanted to talk about raising our child together, but apart. And then there was nothing to discuss. It was all gone before I even really knew it was there.”
“You could have gotten really sick. You were really sick that day I came over. I should have drug you to the hospital myself. You could have gotten an infection or something. I would never have been able to live with myself if something happened and I lost you, too.”
“I was fine,” I said belligerently. It was easy enough to say now, many years removed. “Not everyone thinks like you do. I didn’t have insurance. I was tired of being poked and prodded and having people look at me sympathetically. I wanted my privacy. Not to be someone’s patient, not someone’s science project. They would have wanted to run tests and more tests, they would have wanted to tell me why it happened. And I didn’t care - I still don’t. I didn’t want to know what it would have been. I only know that it never was. There are some things that medicine can’t fix.”
“True enough. But it could have helped you with the physical pain.”
“Chris, I went in for an ultrasound thinking that I was going to see our baby for the very first time. And I came out with the knowledge that I was still carrying a dead child inside of me. They wanted to schedule a procedure right away and I just couldn’t. I couldn’t detach myself just like that. The physical pain was nothing compared to that. The thinking that what if they were wrong? What if I ended something that wasn’t ready to end? And I know that they’d seen this kind of thing before, but I wanted to believe that I was the exception to the rule. I wanted to beat the odds, or at least know that I hadn’t jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
“Oh, Blake,” he said softly, “I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“I wish you would have told me. I wish that I could have been there for you when it happened. I wish that I wasn’t hearing about this ten years after the fact.”
“I didn’t mean for it to happen like this. I was so afraid you’d hate me. First, for being stupid and letting it happen, and then for lying to you about it.”
“You didn’t really lie. You just avoided me at all costs.”
“Pretty much.”
“I understand it not coming from you. We both went out of our way to avoid one another. But to not have Matthew say something about it, not even drop a hint? I know he can keep a secret, but wow.”
I froze in my seat. Of course he’d think that I’d told my brother about it. We were open books to one another, right?
“It’s not Matthew’s fault.” I hedged.
“Oh my God,” Chris breathed, “you didn’t tell him, either?”
I shook my head. “Nobody knows. Just whoever was there at the clinic that day and me. And I couldn’t lie at my annual exam, so they know, too. Now you.”
“You have to tell him, Blake.”
“He’s on his honeymoon.”
“Then tell him when he gets back. Or I will.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“He’s my best friend. He’s your brother. And it was my baby, too. I have every right.”
“It will crush him. Especially right now.”
“He deserves to know. And he’ll end up finding out eventually. Look, he already knows that we disappeared at his reception together. How are we going to explain that away? He’s going to want to know what went on. Or are we going to pretend that nothing happened? He’ll see straight through that. Shouldn’t it come from you?”
I sighed.
“Blake?”
I bit my lip, not yet ready to fully give in. I knew he was right. “I’ll think about it.”
“Think hard,” he suggested.
We fell into an uncomfortable silence the rest of the way back to the hotel. Fortunately, the remaining drive wasn’t that long. I stared out the passenger side window, afraid to look over at him. When we pulled to a stop next to my Trailblazer, I felt a combination of relief and anxiety. What happened next?
Chris parked the car but made no move to get out. Feeding off his nonverbal cues, I remained where I was, though I did unbuckle my seatbelt. I watched with great interest as it retracted back up into the car, then swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to him.
“You remind me so much of the person that I love,” he said finally. “The person that I would walk through fire to save. I look at you and I still see her in there. But I can’t trust you, not yet anyway.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” I whispered, “please know that.”
He snorted, shaking his head.
“I wanted to save you from all of this. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it. I was willing to bear all of the pain so you wouldn’t have to.”
“Between you and your brother, I’m not sure which one of you is more delusional. Don’t you see that you only delayed everything? You made it worse, in fact. Because now I know that I left you when you needed me most. And you may have had years to deal with the grief, but for me it’s like it just happened yesterday.”
“I’m not over it yet.”
“I’m just so torn. Part of me wants to yell at you. And the other part just wants to hold onto you and never let you go. I just need some time to decide which one will win out. I just need time, Blake. Please?”
“Okay.”
“Promise me you’ll think about what I said. It’s time to come clean.”
I nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” He consulted the clock on the dashboard, cursing under his breath. “I’ve really got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
Holding onto all that I had left of my self-confidence, I let myself out of his car and grabbed my own bag. He seemed to anticipate this, not arguing with me or pressing his hand as the ultimate gentleman. I pretended to be engrossed in putting my bag in the backseat of my own truck, just so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes again. I felt them on me, watching me as he pulled away. Only when I heard the familiar sound of the Civic accelerating did I spin around to stare, focusing on the car until it disappeared from view.
“Well,” I said to myself, “that went as well as expected.”
I had no idea what I meant. I’d had no expectations for my confession. He’d neither failed, met, nor exceeded them. And me, well, I was numb.
I climbed into the driver’s seat, leaning over the steering wheel to gain my composure. The best thing I could do now was to go about my business as usual. Chris had had the right idea when he’d mentioned needing to do something instinctual so that he wouldn’t have to think. Today, that meant taking my truckful of wedding stuff over to Matthew and Lauren’s and dropping it off. For two people who hadn’t registered for many gifts, they sure had received a bunch of presents. If I had to bet, I’d wager that most of them were baby-related.
Babies. I bit my lip as the tears began to fall. Jealousy seeped into my veins, an unwanted emotion considering who it was aimed at. The two of them hadn’t done anything wrong. They didn’t even know.
A tap at my window interrupted my reverie. I jumped noticeably in my seat. Making sure that I was facing away from whoever it was at
my driver’s side door, I quickly wiped the moisture from my face and turned. I half expected Mike to be standing before me. He knew my truck; maybe he’d watched me get dropped off and had run outside to try to get me to throw him a bone.
Instead, my visitor was Gracie. She, too, was dressed in the clothes she’d worn yesterday. Her hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, remnants of her bridal updo still apparent. More telling were the giant sunglasses that covered her eyes. She was hurting this morning, too, though for completely different reasons.
I lowered my window. “I thought you were staying at Lauren’s last night.”
“Plans change, sweetie,” she said breezily. She certainly didn’t sound worse for the wear. I admired her resilience. “I stayed here with the bank people. We were having fun.”
“So how did your DJ lesson go?” I asked, happy to have something resembling a normal topic to broach. No need to lead with the gloom and doom.
She shrugged. “I’m pretty sure I won’t be quitting my day job anytime soon. Carlos was not suitably impressed.”
I laughed authentically, which surprised me. Lauren had spoken quite highly of Gracie’s ability to lighten even the darkest of moods. I was seeing her talent in action, and she didn’t even realize what she was doing.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, suddenly digging in her purse for something. After quite a bit of searching, she produced my spare set of keys and thrust them through the window. “I almost forgot. Here.”
“Thanks. I don’t suppose you’ve got time to help unload it, too?” I batted my eyelashes at her innocently.
“Is that the look you gave Chris last night? Because it’s totally working on me.”
At the mention of his name, my face instinctively fell. If it hadn’t been a complete accident, I’d have cursed her for bringing it all back to the forefront so quickly. Of course she’d think that we’d reconciled. Or at least had a night of wild, passionate sex before going back to our respective corners and ignoring each other. I’d even facilitated in creating the myth.
“Shit. I take it things didn’t go so well. I’m sorry; forget I brought it up.”
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