“Baby, I wish I had an answer for you. Something that would magically make you feel better, but the truth is, I don’t think even Stephanie knows why she left.”
“Are the twins going to be okay? I really miss them.”
“They’ll be fine.” He hoped. Steph had a huge sup port system, if only she’d open herself to letting them in.
“I’m mad at Stephanie, but I still love her. Think we’ll see her again?”
Kissing her forehead, he said, “I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”
IT’D BEEN A WEEK SINCE the wedding.
A week during which Stephanie had returned all of the lovely gifts, each accompanied by a handwritten apology note.
Since running out on her wedding, she hadn’t experienced a shred of the panic that’d held her in its grip. Point of fact, aside from embarrassment and loneliness and the pain of hurting so many people she loved, physically she’d never felt better.
Following her doctor’s advice, she’d called the therapist Naomi had recommended. After two emergency sessions, she was now scheduled to visit every Wednesday afternoon.
With the twins down for a nap, she found herself at loose ends. She’d already tidied, done laundry and dusted her few knickknacks. Maybe she’d been hasty in hiring two responsible teens to run the shop on Saturdays?
No. Her therapist said it was good for her to spend time with her girls, reminding herself of what was positive in her life, rather than focusing on the bad.
In her bedroom, she changed the sheets on her bed. She’d bought the cheery floral print in anticipation of Brady sharing them. He’d ribbed her about the master bedroom being too girly, but all-in-all, he’d been a good sport.
She was changing pillowcases when she fumbled and dropped one to the floor. Kneeling next to the bed, a corner of sky-blue caught her eye. It was the special Christmas gift she’d found for Brady. The one she’d bid way too much for in an online auction, but hadn’t been able to resist because she’d known how much Brady would love it.
Painstakingly unwrapping the box, she recalled how intense the auction process had been. How she’d wanted to wait to give it to him when they’d found a private moment alone. But then he’d kissed her and things had moved on from there. She was asking him to marry her and he’d agreed and their lives had been a whirlwind from there.
Lifting the box’s lid, she fished through layers of tissue to pull out the leather-bound, author-signed copy of 20 Hrs., 40 Min.: Our Flight in the Friendship, written by Brady’s idol, Amelia Earhart.
Clutching the rare treasure to her chest, thinking of what a gem the gift’s recipient had been, she cried.
“IT’S INTERESTING TO ME,” Stephanie’s therapist said during her next appointment, “that the first time you’ve cried since the wedding, was over a present Brady never received. Do you see the correlation? How you’ve cried over the loss of your first husband, but now your subconscious has added Brady to your list of loved ones to be mourned?”
Shifting her position on the sofa in the office that had been decorated to resemble a living room, Stephanie said, “I get it, but what am I supposed to do about it? Since walking out on Brady, all I do is miss him, but I know that if he were to somehow be stupid enough to take me back, I’d just flip out again. I mean, I thought what I was afraid of was losing him, but all along, I think I’ve been scared of losing myself. The woman I was when Michael and I were together.” Fingers pressed to her temples, she admitted, “Why can’t I get it through my head that I’ll never be that woman again? And that it’s okay for me to reinvent myself with Brady?”
“During the coming week,” the willowy brunette said, adjusting her black-framed glasses, “I want you to focus on not being so hard on yourself. Take one of your earlier statements for instance. If Brady would be stupid enough to want to give you a second chance. From everything I’ve gathered, you are a kind, loving woman and mother who has understandably lost her way. Why are you so quick to forgive others, but not Stephanie?”
Eyes stinging, she shook her head.
“Do you think you’re not worthy of love?”
“No. Just now I think I’ve grasped the concept that until I’m over Michael, I’m not capable of giving love. And maybe I’m even feeling guilty for having the second chance Michael never had.”
With an ironic chuckle, the therapist said, “Very intuitive revelation. Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there are times in all of our lives when the best solution is falling back to regroup. Stephanie, in realizing that, you’ve taken a major first step in healing.” Her smile was congratulatory. “What you need to do now is release the guilt and give yourself permission to live. Think you can do that?”
No, Stephanie wasn’t at all sure. Still, she owed it not only to herself and her girls, but to Brady and Lola to try.
THAT NIGHT, STEPHANIE FED and bathed the twins, and then tucked them in for the night. When she was sure both were sleeping soundly, she popped the cork of the nice bottle of red she’d picked up on her way home, and without bothering with a glass, took a deep swig.
She had a big evening ahead of her.
Her therapy session had been illuminating. Most of all for the fact that she had subconsciously felt guilty for once again having fun. Well, no more.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, wine bottle on the nightstand, she reached for one of her favorite photos of Michael. The one of the two of them at his family picnic. Skimming the pad of her thumb over his smiling image, she asked, “What am I going to do, Michael?”
It hurt that his family never called. She got the fact that his mom was still grieving, but didn’t she realize that a part of him lived on right here in Valley View? Wasn’t she the least bit curious about the miracle Michael had left behind?
“We sure made pretty babies,” she said, drinking more wine. Made, being the relevant term. What they shared had been the stuff dreams are made of, but what she and Brady shared was every bit as special. In hold ing so tight to her past, she’d essentially thrown away her future. “Thank you for my girls,” she whispered. “But now, for me, for them, I’ve got to let you go.”
It took more wine, but she found the emotional strength to gather not only Michael’s photos, but his few clothes. A TransGlobal sweatshirt she wore on especially cold and lonely nights. Ticket stubs from their first fancy night out when they’d seen The Phantom of the Opera.
Faster and faster she worked, stunned to discover how empty her bedroom looked with Michael well and truly gone. Stephanie felt at peace knowing his stuff might be safely tucked into a box for Michaela and Melanie to one day explore, but the most important part of him—his love—she would always safely hold inside.
How many times had he told her that should any thing ever happen to him, his wish for her was to go on? He didn’t want her engaging in random hook-ups but in the real deal—just like what they’d shared. In Brady she’d found that. Different. Yet at the core—the love—so very much the same.
After taking the snapshot of Michael removing her wedding garter from its silver frame, she replaced it with one of him playing soccer with a bunch of Iraqi orphans. The photo told of his commitment to making the world a better place. One child at a time. Even if the only way he knew to help was by making them smile.
Rising, she crept into the nursery, then set the photo on a shelf next to the changing table. It was important to her that the girls know their father. But it was just as important that they grew to love their new daddy.
That is, if Brady agreed to let her back into his life.
Over the coming days, she had some big decisions. From her perspective, though, the toughest—jumping back into life—had just been made.
BRIGHT AND EARLY THE NEXT morning, confident in her new directions, Stephanie asked Olivia to watch the girls for a few days, and then sat down for a heart-to-heart with Helen. Leaving the pastry shop with a handshake and promise, she made a brief stop at Lisa’s office and then started off on what w
ould surely be the biggest adventure she’d ever had. As expected, her twin had been worried, but this time, once Stephanie explained the breakthrough she’d had at the counselor and then later at home, Lisa had gifted her with a hug and teary well wishes.
In Seattle, a steady downpour made it tough going in finding Brady’s apartment. Once she did, as luck would have it, he wasn’t home. Sure, she could’ve called, but considering how gravely she’d botched things up between them, if she were to have any chance at reconciling, she wanted to have that meeting in person.
She also needed to make things right with Lola, starting by delivering a major apology. Since it was only three in the afternoon and Lola didn’t get out of school until three-thirty, Stephanie struck out for Clarissa and Vince’s, praying they’d at least let her in.
Parked in the drive in front of their home, Stephanie prayed for calm and surprisingly got it. Since pinpointing her panic hot buttons, her frayed nerves seemed to have exponentially improved. Today was the last big hurdle.
Forcing a deep breath, she jumped from the car and made a mad dash through the rain. On the covered porch, she tried making herself presentable, but gave up. Hopefully, Lola or Brady wouldn’t make their decision on whether or not to take her back based upon her dripping hair!
“What are you doing here?” Clarissa only halfway opened the door. “Haven’t you already caused enough trouble?”
“Yes, but…” Stephanie willed her pulse to slow. She made this mess. It was her obligation to clean it up. “Look, I don’t blame you for being angry on Lola’s behalf. What I did was unforgivable, but I’m better now—or, at least getting there—and part of the process is making amends with the people I love.”
Expression dubious, Clarissa stepped aside, gesturing for Stephanie to enter the house. Without saying a word, Clarissa left her standing on the stone-floored entry. A minute later, she returned with a plush navy towel. “Dry yourself off. You’re a mess.”
“Thanks.”
Once Stephanie was no longer dripping, Clarissa put on a fresh pot of coffee.
Seated at the kitchen table, Clarissa asked, “Why today? What’s happened to make you suddenly worthy of a second chance?”
As succinctly as she could, Stephanie explained her therapy and issues with grief, and how badly she needed Lola and Brady to know her wedding-day meltdown had nothing to do with them and everything to do with her own insecurities.
Once Stephanie had worked herself into a fresh round of tears, Clarissa rounded the table to crush her in a hug. “I’m so glad you came. Since the wedding, Lola’s been in a serious funk. While I can’t speak for Brady, our little girl will be happy you’re here.”
“I hope so,” Stephanie said, drying her eyes with a tissue Clarissa had given her.
“As for Brady, he’s on a two-day layover in Chicago. Feel like waiting?”
Stephanie shook her head.
“Didn’t think so.”
Clarissa gave her the name and number of Brady’s Chicago hotel.
“Mom!” Lola hollered after slamming the door. “I’m home!”
Stomach a mess, Stephanie rose, whispering to Clarissa, “Do I look okay?”
“Beautiful.” Heading for the living room, she signaled for Stephanie to follow. To Lola she said, “Look who came for a visit.”
Lola’s smile faded. “You hurt my dad and I hate you!” The girl chased off to her room.
Stephanie started to follow, but Clarissa stopped her. “Give her space. I’ll talk to her.” Halfway up the stairs, Clarissa turned to say, “For what it’s worth. I’m on your side. Nothing would make me happier than to see things between you and Brady work out.”
THIRTY LONG MINUTES LATER, Stephanie still paced the kitchen, pausing every so often for a fortifying sip of coffee. What was she doing here? Obviously, she’d overestimated her importance in Lola’s life. And if that was the case, what would her reception with Brady be? Did he also feel this strongly about never seeing her again?
She’d just gathered her coat and purse to quietly leave when Lola asked from the top of the stairs, “Are you leaving?”
“If that’s what you want me to do…” Staring up at Brady’s precious little girl, Stephanie’s limbs felt frozen.
“No. Please stay.” Racing down the stairs, Lola nearly toppled her with the force of her hug. “I’m sorry. Mom told me what happened to you and I didn’t know your heart was sick. I thought you just stopped loving me and Dad.”
“Never,” Stephanie said. More like I stopped loving myself. “No matter what, pumpkin, I will always love you.”
Clarissa was next racing down the stairs, only she was grabbing car keys. “Okay, gang, love, love, hug, hug, let’s go.” She held open the door.
“What’s wrong with you, Mom?” Lola cocked her head with her hands on her hips. “Me and Steph are having a conversation.”
“That’s wonderful, baby, but finish in the car. I just booked her on a 5:40 p.m. flight to Chicago and in order to make it, we’re going to have to hustle.”
“What about my rental?”
Rolling her eyes, Clarissa held out her hand. “Give me the keys, and Vince and I will return it in the morning. Right now, let’s get you on the plane.”
Chapter Eighteen
For Stephanie, compared to the nightmare of possibly never having Brady in her life, flying had become no big deal—especially since Clarissa had snagged her a first-class upgrade. She was still a nervous wreck, but more out of anticipation than fear.
Upon landing at O’Hare International well past midnight, she had no problem finding a taxi to take her to the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Trouble was, did he feel the same about her?
In the Marriott’s lobby, for security reasons, the check-in clerk refused to give Stephanie Brady’s room number. She did, however, agree to let her talk to him on the phone.
“Brady,” she said, “It’s Stephanie, and before you hang up, please give me your room number. I have to see you.”
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Here. In Chicago. We need to talk.”
“Do you realize what time it is?” His groggy, less-than-thrilled tone told her she’d made a mistake in coming.
Her broken heart told her to stay the course.
“Please, Brady,” she urged, not above begging. “Please tell me where you are.”
Sighing, he said, “Nine-ten.”
IN THE MINUTES IT TOOK Steph to grab an elevator and find his room, Brady was pretty sure he was going to puke. How many times had he rehearsed what he’d say in the unlikely event of this very meeting? Yet now, his mind was blank.
Like a surgeon, he’d tried so hard to cut her from his life. He tried not thinking about her. He’d even gone so far as to try throwing away all reminders of her. Key word in all of the above being try. Only to ultimately fail.
Lord help him, but he still loved her.
When she knocked, he rested his forehead against the door. Part of him wanted to see her more than anything in the world. Another part knew she’d only bring more pain.
“Brady?” she said with another knock. “Let me in.”
He did, stepping aside for her to pass.
With the curtains drawn, the generic space felt tight.
Perched on the foot of the king-size bed, she set her purse on the floor.
“What?” he asked, arms folded. After closing the door, he still stood there. His feet refused to move.
“Could you please sit down?” she asked, patting the space beside her.
“I can’t.” To sit alongside her would only make her eventual leaving that much harder to bear.
Her lower lip quivered.
He wanted to go to her, but the gnawing ache in his chest where his heart used to be wouldn’t let him. She hadn’t just hurt him and Lola, but pulverized them.
“Okay…” After a deep breath, she stood, wiping her palms on the thighs of black slacks. “If you won’t come to
me…” When she slipped her arms around his waist, his body instinctively craved more.
No, no, no. He refused to let her in, which is why he backed a safe distance away.
“I’m sorry, Brady. I made horrible mistakes. I wasn’t ready for another commitment, but I’m also not ready for you to be out of my life.”
“Are you even listening to what you’re saying? You left me and my little girl standing at the altar—no, wait.” Marching over to her, finger in her face, he said, “You didn’t even give us the dignity of just quietly telling me it was over. You freakin’ ran like I’d set you on fire. Do you have any idea what that felt like? And then there was sitting around the most romantic beach house in the world with my eight-year-old, playing Monopoly and Clue.”
“How many ways can I apologize?” Holding her arms out, she let them fall with a slap against her thighs. “I screwed up. Made the worst mistake of my life. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been seeing a therapist, and it’s been life-changing. I even flew to Seattle, and then here with out being tranquilized. I don’t want to rely on pills for the rest of my life. I want to learn to deal with my pain. But I need your help. I need you to believe in me, and tell me everything’s going to be okay.”
Cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears with his thumbs, he said, “Don’t you think that’s exactly what I want to do? What I’ve always wanted to do? But, Steph, I don’t know if I can. Do you realize that not once during our engagement, did you tell me you loved me? I know it’s a small thing. Three stupid words, but you seem incapable of saying them. I need a woman who can tell me. Not because I’m insecure, but because I’m worth it.”
“You are,” she said, taking him by his wrists and kissing his palms and fingers. “I love you—and Lola—so much. I’m sorry for not saying it sooner, but I was afraid. Losing Michael changed me. I was so scared—of everything.”
The Baby Twins (Babies & Bachelors USA) Page 17
