by K. Webster
He sighs exaggeratedly, and I chuckle.
“I know—hard work. But you’re a tough little guy. We can do this.”
After pulling the blanket away to reveal a tiny hand tucked inside, I slide my pinkie finger into his palm. With such strength, he grips my finger with his hand. Then I give it a little wiggle and smile.
“Okay. A deal’s a deal. A man’s handshake is as good as any contract. Together, we’re going to make Mommy better. I love you, Tyler.”
“Andi,” I whisper and stroke a blond strand away from her forehead. My wife looks like an angel who’s been in an epic battle and lost. She’s absolutely crushed.
Slightly, she turns her head toward me, but her normally sparkling eyes are dulled. She doesn’t frown or smile or hardly even acknowledge me.
“Babe,” I try again and smile at her.
Her lips pucker into a pout as she looks up at the ceiling. Shit, this is going to be a lot harder than I expected.
“Dr. Ellis said you could go home in the morning. I thought maybe you would want to see Tyler. He’s in the nursery. I could go get him and—”
Sadly, she mouths the word, “No.”
I groan in frustration. She’s said no to visitors, to Dr. Sweeney, and to Tyler multiple times.
“Please? For me?” I beg quietly.
Her lips purse together and she shakes her head.
Fuck.
“Fine. I’ll go visit him by myself. I will come back in twenty minutes,” I snip.
She’s not the only one hurting here. I’m gutted by the loss of Thomas, but I can’t abandon Tyler because of it. Mom was right—I’m his daddy now. He relies on me to look after him.
“Fine,” she mutters.
Fuck.
I lean forward and press a kiss to her forehead before stomping out of the room. On the way out the door, I nearly run right into Dr. Sweeney. Thank fucking God.
“Doc, you’ve got your homework cut out for you. You have to fix her, man. I don’t know what to do.” I sigh raggedly. My chest aches for her. I just want to help my wife.
His face is grim but determined. I know that Andi is more than just a patient to him—he cares for her.
“I’ll do my best, Jackson. This isn’t an overnight fix. She’ll need a lot of counseling to get through this. Our biggest concern right now is not letting her have feelings of resentment toward Tyler. Keep trying, son. We’ll bring her back.”
I hope to hell he’s right.
With a nod of my thanks, I leave him to deal with her so I can see our son again. Mom keeps texting me like a wild woman because she wants to visit with him. I’d hoped to have Andi meet him before the rest of the family, but that’s looking pretty bleak. It’s been almost six hours since they took Thomas away and I can’t get her to agree to see Tyler.
Mom: Now??????
I roll my eyes at her tenth text with the same damn message. Finally, I make it out into the waiting room to find her.
Pepper attacks me the moment I come through the doors. “How is she?”
I take a deep breath. “Not well. Dr. Sweeney is with her right now.”
“Has she seen Tyler yet?” Mom pipes up beside her.
“No. She isn’t interested in seeing anyone. Not even me. I think she’s going to need more time.”
Mom and Pepper both frown worriedly. I’m sure my expression matches theirs.
“Can we see him then?” Mom questions.
I sigh but nod. “I’m going back to visit him now. You can come to the visiting room with me.”
“Jackson,” Pepper asks softly, “Do you think I could go talk to Andi?”
My eyes flit down to her slightly swollen belly and Molly on her hip. I give a small shake of my head and leave her to cry in Jordan’s arms as I take Mom to meet Tyler.
“Have you spoken to Jill or her parents?” Mom asks once we make it through the doors and down the hallway toward the visiting room.
“No. I feel like I’ve been running around trying to take care of everyone. I haven’t had a chance to check on her yet.”
Mom grabs my hand and squeezes it. “I texted them and she’s okay. She’ll be going home tomorrow. Laura said she’s handling it really well, but they’ve already enrolled her in counseling. They’re very sorry about Thomas.”
Hearing his name chokes me up, and I stare at the floor as we walk.
“Son, I want you to know something,” she says softly. “You’re doing a fine job. Handling everything. Andi picked you for a reason—because you’re solid, reliable, and loveable. Things will be hard for her, but luckily, she married my sweet boy, because you’re going to take good care of her. She’ll heal. I promise.”
For the millionth time today, I cry. I feel like such a fucking pussy, but my heart aches so goddamned badly.
I clear my throat and ding the bell at the nurses’ station. The same nurse from before recognizes me and goes to get Tyler. After she makes sure our bracelets match, she pushes the cart over into the visiting room before leaving us alone with him.
“Oh my goodness,” Mom coos. “He’s just perfect.”
As she picks him up and cuddles him, I feel a sense of pride. My mother is holding my baby for the first time.
My boy.
My sweet Tyler.
Fifty-eight ceiling tiles. I’ve counted them over and over again while waiting for the nurse to wheel me out to the car.
“Ready to go?” Jackson asks gruffly.
I know he’s tired. We both are. Last night was the worst night of my life. I spent the entire night howling at the gaping hole that my son left in my chest when he died. Jackson spent the night trying to comfort me.
Every couple of hours, he asked if I would hold Tyler. Absolutely not. Each time, I refused.
Doesn’t he understand that I can’t just push away the loss of our Thomas and move on like he clearly can?
I nod at him, indicating that I’m ready, and he leaves the hospital room. Where he’s going is anybody’s guess.
A nurse suddenly appears and smiles. “Time to go home, Andi.”
I don’t smile back. What the fuck do I have to smile about? I’m leaving the fucking maternity ward without my baby.
No smiles back.
No smiles ever.
As she wheels me out of the room, the sight of Jackson guts me. He’s standing there looking very uncomfortable as he holds one of the infant carriers we bought. I know Tyler is in there. Our backup baby. Jackson must be so thrilled. But when I see Tyler’s hand move, I have to look away.
The nurse pushes me down the hallway toward the elevator, and everything blurs because of my tears. I mentally begin making a checklist of what needs to be done. Call the funeral home. Choose a beautiful casket. Find the outfit he was supposed to go home in so he can be buried in it instead.
Sweet Thomas.
God, I miss him.
He was the tiniest little thing, but he was so damn perfect. Our time wasn’t long enough. I miss his soft nudges from within me.
I can’t breathe.
I clench the arms of the wheelchair until my hands turn white. The breakfast I picked at earlier sours in my stomach, and I want nothing more than to rid myself of it. Another painful ache seizes my chest.
I fucking miss him.
The nurse pushing my wheelchair stops but nothing is in focus from the never-ending tears that are flooding my eyes. When I feel a blast of cool air, I know we’re outside. I blink away some of the moisture in my eyes so that I can see and accept the nurse’s hand to help me from the chair. Briefly, I catch a glimpse of Jackson as he tries to figure out how to put the infant carrier into the base in the back of George’s car. Normally, I would giggle or try to help him.
I’m not normal anymore.
Instead, I turn my head away and open the passenger’s-side door of the car. Jackson can sit in the back with his baby.
After I buckle up, I stare straight ahead. George reaches over and pats the top of my hand before pu
shing his door open to go help Jackson. Good. Surely they can figure it out together.
I just want to crawl into bed. Forget this nightmare that is my life. And sleep for fucking ever.
Jackson’s baby starts to cry—probably from being jostled around so much—and I ignore the need in my chest to soothe him. I’m not his mother. I guess I am on paper, but I am Thomas’s real mother. Life was just too cruel to let me keep him.
Once George has reentered the vehicle and Jackson has gotten in, we ride silently back to the loft. I can hear Jackson whispering to Tyler, and I’m curious what it is that he’s saying.
Probably, “Good thing we have you.” The backup baby.
“Can you walk?” George asks when he eventually pulls up to our building.
I nod somberly and climb out before he can put the car in park. My body is sore and weak, but I’m not an invalid. Not bothering to help Jackson, I slowly make my way into the building. By the time I make it up to our floor, I’m exhausted. And what good it did me to run away from him and Tyler—I don’t have a key.
For what seems like forever, I wait. Finally, a frazzled Jackson emerges from the elevator loaded down with bags and a baby.
His baby.
I can tell he’s angry with me, but I don’t care. I just want my damn bed.
Standing with my arms crossed, I wait for him to set some of the bags down and unlock the door. Tyler cries out and I flinch.
Nausea consumes me, and I bolt for the bathroom the moment he gets the door open. I’ve barely made it before I throw up that raunchy hospital breakfast. I’m not going to be able to handle this. I wish God would strike me dead with a massive bolt of lightning and end my suffering now.
Of course, no lightning strikes.
My suffering has no end in sight.
Where are you God?
You better be with my sweet Thomas.
Crying.
Thomas?!
I burst from the bed and am halfway to the nursery when I realize that it is not my baby. Tyler is crying—loud and hungry. Where the hell is Jackson?
Storming back into the bedroom, I crawl back into the bed and haul off and kick him.
“What the fuck, Andi?” he growls, but he immediately bolts out of the bed once he realizes his baby is crying.
The crying won’t stop.
It just goes on and on. It gets louder and louder, taunting me with every passing moment.
“Make him stop,” I groan into the pillows as I try to wrap one around my head to muffle the noise.
But he doesn’t make him stop. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear he was in there pinching the poor thing. Jesus, didn’t he read the damn books like I did? The kid is hungry.
I hear all sorts of racket in the kitchen, and thankfully, moments later, the crying stops.
The pain in my head stops.
However, in the silence, the throb in my heart begins again.
I miss you, Thomas.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but soon, I feel the bed sink down as my husband climbs back in. I want him to hold me. I want him to tell me that everything will be okay. Instead, I lie with my back to him.
“Andi, you need to hold him.” He’s not asking anymore. He’s telling.
Fuck him. “No.”
“It’s not up for debate, babe. He’s your son now whether you like it or not.”
I sit up so fast that the room spins. Jackson turned on a lamp and looks breathtakingly beautiful in nothing but his boxers while holding the swaddled baby against his bare chest. This is a vision I dreamed about for years.
Years.
And now?
Now, it’s all fucking wrong.
“I’m sleeping on the couch,” I murmur as I climb out of bed.
His jaw clenches so tight that I’m afraid it’ll break in half. I can see the anger lying under the surface. The words he wants to say to me sit right on the tip of his tongue. So I challenge him with a glare, but he backs down.
“I’ll stay here with our baby. Tell Mommy goodnight,” he says sarcastically.
His words crush my soul, and I hobble out of the room as if they physically harmed me.
I.
Can’t.
Do.
This.
Two days. For two days, I’ve allowed her to ignore me and Tyler. But I’ve had fucking enough. Tomorrow is Thomas’s funeral, which has really sent my wife off the deep end. She’s been very active around the house while planning for it. Even though she’s supposed to be resting, I’ve watched her clean every inch of our home—except for the nursery—just to avoid us. When people come to visit, she locks herself in the bathroom.
She’s exhausting the hell out of me. I don’t know what to do. Mom thinks I should just leave her alone with Tyler. I think that’s the worst goddamned idea I’ve ever heard. Andi is too unstable, and even though I know she would never hurt a soul, in this dark state of hers, I don’t know that she wouldn’t neglect him.
The thought of her neglecting sweet Tyler kills me.
God, I just want her back.
A knock on the door startles me out of my daydreaming. It’s after eight in the evening, so I’m not sure who could possibly be here. Andi already went to bed, and Tyler is asleep in his crib. I’ve just been staring at the damn wall, trying to figure out how to wake my wife up from her mind.
After getting out of my chair, I walk to the front door. When I open it, I’m surprised to find Bray of all people standing there with his hands in his pockets.
“How is she?”
I roll my eyes. “Same.”
“Can I come in?”
“She won’t talk to you,” I mutter.
He frowns but comes inside. “Can I try?”
At this point, I’ll try anything. “Knock your socks off.”
With my permission, he strides down the hallway and into our bedroom. When he closes the door behind him, jealousy surges in my chest. Bray loves Olive more than life itself, but just the fact that he’s Andi’s ex and now in the bedroom I share with her rubs me raw.
I’m desperate though.
If he can reach her, I hope to hell he can knock some sense into her.
Padding barefoot down the hallway, I peek my head into the nursery. Tomorrow, after the funeral, I plan on taking the other crib down. It’s too much of a sad reminder, and it will only hurt Andi to see it each day. I walk over to the one with Tyler in it and smile. He’s so fucking cute in the pajamas Mom got for him. All boy dressed in blue. His blond hair is so soft that I have the urge to touch it, but I know what a mistake that is. He’ll wake up, and I’m too exhausted for that right now. I haven’t slept for more than two hours straight in a couple of days.
When I hear voices, I creep out of the nursery and down the hallway to our room. I want to burst through the bedroom door and beat my fists on my chest. Remind Bray that Andi is my wife. But that’s stupid and uncalled for. He’s just trying to help. I just wish I were the one who could help her, but she won’t let me.
Unable to keep my curiosity in check, I quietly turn the knob and crack the door open. The sight fillets my heart. Bray is holding my wife. He’s holding her how she won’t let me hold her. And as her body shudders wildly with her sobs, he strokes her hair. I watch him with green eyes of envy as he mutters whispers of assurances to her.
I’m a voyeur to their private exchange, and I’m jealous as fucking hell. But at the same time, I love her deeply. And if this helps her, I will push away the rage that bubbles in my chest and let him hold her. Anything that helps comfort my wife is progress in my book. I’m thankful that she let someone in—even if it is Bray.
My wife needs a shoulder to cry on.
I just wish it were mine.
When she begins speaking to him, I soundlessly close the door. I don’t want to invade on what she’s telling him. Sighing, I pad back toward the nursery. Toward my little buddy.
This time, I do ruffle his hair just so I have an excu
se to hold him.
I wake to lips softly kissing my neck. My Andi. Another dream. Yet it’s not a dream. Lying here in the quiet, dark bedroom, I feel her fingers skim along my bare chest, and I’m almost afraid to breathe—afraid to break the spell. She’s somehow managed to sidle herself under my arm, and she feels so damn good pressed against me.
God, how I’ve missed her touch.
My hand finds her hair and I stroke her lovingly. I don’t have the words for her right now, but I hope she can feel my love, which is as thick as the blackness that surrounds us. A silent sob hangs in her throat, but I sense it. Her tears slide from her eyes and splash on my bare skin. Searching in the dark with my other hand, I swipe them off her cheeks. With a sigh, she leans into my palm, needing me as much as I need her.
“Andi, baby, I love you so much,” I whisper so softly that I wonder if she even heard it.
But she hears.
My wife always hears.
“Jackson,” she murmurs, “I love you too.”
Needing to feel closer to her, I gently roll her over to pin her beneath me. Somehow in the dark, I find her supple lips and kiss them reverently. God, how I missed these lips. She kisses me as if I might suddenly disappear.
I’m not going fucking anywhere.
Even though my dick is now hard as rock, I know that all I care about is holding and kissing her. Her body is still healing, and as much as I want to sink myself deep inside her, I won’t even try. Kissing her is enough. Touching her is more than enough.
I kiss her softly until I can’t take it any longer and nibble at her lips. She tastes like pure heaven and I can’t get enough. I want to press my lips against hers until her lips are swollen, chapped, and sore as hell. My tongue wants to worship hers and dance with it all night.
When her hands slide into my hair and she tugs lightly, I groan into her mouth. Being with her like this is so fucking amazing. I’ve missed her so much.
