“I’m…” she tries to say something else, but tears fill her eyes.
“I can’t promise a wedding, or…” I feel my heart racing, trying to get the right words out. I want her. I just don’t know what the future holds. There’s so much we don’t know about each other. I feel trapped in a corner, knowing she wants me to tell her I can see us together for the long haul. Sure, a part of me can, but I’m not ready to say the words.
I don’t know anything other than how she makes me feel.
“You make me happy, Grace,” I speak without thinking.
“You make me happy, too.” Tears flow down her cheeks and I reach out to her, but she takes half a step back.
“I need to know if you’re going to be there for me.” She looks at me with a plea in her eyes, but I don’t know what for.
“Grace, I want to start over. Okay? Let’s start fresh and take it slow,” I put my hands out as if I’m approaching a wounded animal, but it doesn’t help.
Her body hunches forward, and she covers her mouth as a sob wracks through her body.
“Grace, please,” I grab onto her, feeling her slip away from me, but she pushes me away. She’s shutting down in front of me and I can see it happening, but I don’t know how to stop it.
“Can’t we just go back to the way we were before?” I plead with her. We fit so well together. It was easy and natural. I want that back. I want her back.
“Please go,” she hiccups. “I just need to-” she doesn’t finish. Shaking her head, she brushes the tears away.
“Grace please,” I beg her as she shuts the door, but she doesn’t stop.
The door closes in my face and I stand there, staring at it and listening as her sobs grow fainter.
I finally snap out of it, out of the shock of her pushing me away and I bang on the door. “Grace!” My voice is hoarse.
I ruined it. I don’t know where it went wrong. The ring. My blood chills as I stand numb. She threw me away just like that.
And I let her. All over what? A ring?
I turn away from the door, feeling conflicted and not knowing what to do.
I still want her. I know with everything in me that I do. But maybe that’s not enough.
CHAPTER 35
Grace
* * *
I’M SITTING in a team meeting at work, trying to look interested. There's an enthusiastic woman standing at one end of the conference room, saying… something. I can’t listen. I can’t pay attention. I can hardly function thinking about the shit I’ve gotten myself into. I don’t know what to do, and I feel so damn alone.
I’m at the far end of the conference table, surrounded by my team. The salespeople are farther down, close to the woman who's here to make our team more cohesive.
I stifle a yawn and frown. I realize that the pit of my stomach hurts to the point where I have to close my eyes. I’m not nauseated exactly, so much as I feel a dull ache low in my belly. If I wasn’t pregnant, I’d say I was PMSing.
I don’t think much of it, and just shift in my seat to try to alleviate the cramping pain, which draws a couple of curious glances from my coworkers. I smile and check my watch, feeling the nerves of being in charge get the best of me. I’m pretending everything’s alright. That nothing’s wrong, when in reality, nothing at all feels right.
“Okay! That’s it for today, everyone!” the team bonding specialist says. “Great work. See you soon.” Thank fuck.
Everyone gets up, moving toward wherever they work and leaving me alone. People chat as we leave the conference room, but I’m preoccupied. I have a billion things to do today, and that's on top of the fact that I feel like complete and utter shit.
The first thing on my to-do list is to check with the new hire, Gina, about a deadline that’s about to pass. Gina is basically the new me. She took my old cubicle and some of my old clients. She needs to be trained, but the projects are already behind schedule since I started transferring everything last week and leaving the actual ads in the hands of other members in the team.
I head over to her cubicle, ignoring the dull pain as I walk, but she’s not there. I purse my lips, then decide to check the employee break room. I walk to the end of the hall, expecting to find her getting something to drink, all the while telling myself to just keep it together. I can’t let every bit of my world fall to pieces. I need something to hold onto.
A few steps outside the break room, I do find Gina… only she’s talking to Diane. And they are not talking about work. I slink backward and hide behind some potted palms, listening.
“She wouldn’t have even met Charlie if it weren’t for me,” Diane is saying. “And they didn’t even stay together.” My body stiffens when I hear her mention Charlie’s name. “Serves Grace right. She basically took that office of hers from me. I heard she slept with Jack, that’s why she got the promotion instead of Melanie.”
Oh hell no. The shock morphs into anger in a hot flash. She did not just say that. I worked my ass off, and Jack and Sarah thought I deserved the promotion. How dare Diane spread malicious gossip to people who are supposed to be on my team!
“Oh, I didn’t know—” Gina starts, but she abruptly cuts herself off when she sees me heading their way. “Um, hi Grace…”
I glide in, looking Diane right in the eyes. “Gina, I need the drafts for Howard Inc. The deadline is today.” My voice is stern and hard, but I don’t give a fuck.
Gina looks between us, her eyes wide. “Right! I’m on it.”
She moves past me, scurrying to her desk. Diane pulls a face and starts to duck around me, but I stop her with my arm. My hand smacks against the drywall so damn hard, for a second I think I dent it.
“We need to talk.” I'm as serious as sin, looking at her.
She takes a step back, tossing her hair. “Is that so?” She feigns confidence, but she knows damn well that I heard her. Every fucking word.
“Yeah, I would say so. You need to shut your fucking mouth around here.” I’m shocked at my language, but I carry on, pretending like I didn’t just use profanity in the workplace. “You can’t talk to Gina or anyone else like that. Telling them lies, making stuff up—”
“Making what up?” she says, waving her hands.
“That I slept with Jack for the job, for one.” I cross my arms to keep myself from hitting her, my body trembling.
“Oh, please. We all know you aren’t anything special. There is no way that you earned that job, unless on your knees counts,” she hisses.
“You know what? You’re just mad because you can’t hold anyone’s attention, here or at Mac’s, and somehow that’s my fault,” I grit out.
Suddenly she’s in my face, up close. “Fuck you!” she sneers.
Sarah walks up with her headphones in. Pulling her earbuds loose, she hears the last words that Diane yells just as Diane lurches forward.
Then Diane slaps me. Actually hits me across the face. I’m shocked by the sensation and stinging pain. I put my hand to my cheek, my mouth in a silent O of shock.
“Diane, what the hell?” Sarah yells, perplexed.
“She started it,” Diane says, pointing at me. “She said that I can’t get any attention. I can get it whenever I want.”
The last line is directed at me, but I don’t get a chance to respond.
“I don’t care what she said!” Sarah’s in complete shock. “You just struck her.”
“But I—” Diane starts.
“I think you’d better come with me,” Sarah says in a low tone. The only thing I can think is… thank fuck I didn’t hit her first. I damn sure wanted to. “We were just discussing your poor performance yesterday. I think Jack will be interested to know that you violated company policy so blatantly.”
“But…” Diane says.
“This way, please,” Sarah says, her tone firm. She makes eye contact with me, and I nod, pretending as if I wasn’t about to beat the shit out of Diane.
Diane deserves everything that’s coming her w
ay, and then some.
My stomach chooses this moment to start hurting again. Actually, less hurting and more cramping. This time the pain is severe, way worse than before. I double over for a second, my breath taken away by the pain of it.
After a second, the pain recedes a little. Enough for me to stand up and rush to the bathroom, anyway. I feel a strange sensation as I run to the bathroom, like it’s my time of the month and I’m bleeding.
Shit, I think. That can’t be good.
I thank God that there’s only room for a single person as I lock the door. I pull down my pants and panties and sit down on the toilet, still hunched forward. I grab a wad of toilet paper and wipe myself.
It comes away bright red with blood. I freak out, unable to hold back tears. I look at my dark panties, and realize that it’s not just blood. There's a huge clot, too.
I’m miscarrying.
I shake my head in disbelief. This can’t be happening. No. No. I can’t let this happen. I can’t lose this baby. I drop my head onto my bare knees, sobbing.
I am officially not okay.
CHAPTER 36
Charlie
* * *
I STARE at my phone as I sit in my parents' driveway. No answer. I’ve called her half a dozen times now. I’ve texted her. But I haven’t gotten a single response.
I don’t like this feeling. This churning in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel like I’ve lost her for good. A slow breath leaves me, making my chest feel hollow as I climb out of the car and walk up the steps to face my family.
I feel numb and I don’t want to go in there. I haven’t seen anyone but Michael since that shitshow on Sunday. The screen door opens with a screech and I push the front door open, feeling like I’m walking to a sentencing.
I know it’ll take time for them to forgive me, but I need them to know that it wasn’t like I was trying to hurt them. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It just got out of hand.
Just like me and Grace. My boots smack on the wooden hallway as I walk to the dining room. The entire family’s quiet when I walk in and slowly pull my chair back.
“You’re late,” Ma breaks the silence as I sink into my seat.
I swallow down the lump forming in my throat, “Sorry, I was just…” I don’t finish the sentence. I was calling Grace. Hoping she’d finally answer.
“Damn, I was hoping I’d get your slice of pie,” Joseph smiles as he tells his joke, but no one laughs. I shift uncomfortably. I’ve never felt like I’ve betrayed my family. I’ve never felt so shameful and so helpless in making it right.
“I’m sorry for-”
Ali cuts me off, my eyes darting to hers. “I texted Grace last night,” she picks up her glass of soda and takes a small sip. “She’s really upset.” She talks into her glass, her eyebrows raising and takes another sip.
My body tenses, “What’d she say?”
“That you’re a dick,” she mumbles into her glass.
“Alianna!” Ma reprimands her.
“She’s joking,” Michael says, and I look to Ali for confirmation. She shrugs and answers, “She said she had feelings for you, but it didn’t work out.”
I swallow thickly. Little Evie squeals with delight, the sweet baby girl completely oblivious to the tone in the room. Joseph bounces her on his knee and adds, “Sounds like you fucked it up… big time.”
“What’d you do?” Cheryl asks. I don’t even know where to start, but I don’t have to.
“He opened his mouth,” Michael chimes in.
I stare at him hard, pissed off that he can make light of the situation.
“I was pissed and I said some things-”
“Hold on,” Ma throws her hands up, and Pops stops chewing whatever’s in his mouth to look at her. “I am lost.” She pins me with her stare. “Are you seeing this girl or not?”
“Yes,” my two brothers-in-law answer at once. Ali nods her head, picking up her utensils to cut into her pork chop.
“I was,” I correct them.
“You still want to?” Ma asks, her tone completely changed. There’s a strength to her voice I haven’t heard in a long time. Not since I was young and lost.
I let her question sink in, the room going silent. “Of course I do,” I answer her. “I want her, but she wants something else.”
“Stop being stupid, Charlie,” Ali snaps at me.
“Hush, baby,” Michael tells her, placing a hand on her thigh.
“Stupid?” I push my chair back but stay seated. “I can barely keep up with her. I don’t know how she feels, and she never tells me. It’s like I’m in the dark and trying to find her, but she won’t speak up. She won’t help me.”
I raise my voice and I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. “I just need her to tell me exactly what to do,” I say with finality.
“Did you tell her what she means to you?” Ali asks me with attitude.
“Yes,” I snap back.
“So you told her you love her?” she asks me, and I stare back at her like she’s crazy.
“You know you do,” she nods her head once, keeping my gaze. “And she loves you, too.”
“Why does it have to be so serious?” I run my hand down my face. “Why can’t we just give this a chance and go slow?” I add, my voice full of defeat.
Do I love her? Yeah. I fucking do. I wouldn’t be hurting this bad if I didn’t. But I’m afraid to say the words.
“Well this turned out better than I thought it would,” Cheryl says on my right. “And to think we almost didn’t come.” She smiles at Evie, still in Joseph’s lap as she coos.
“You need to make up with her, Charlie,” Ali says and then she raises her knife at me, pointing. “And this isn’t because I got the proofs back and she looks pretty in my pictures.
Michael huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“Look, I like her. A lot. But I don’t know if we’re…”
“If you want her, go get her.” My pops talks for the first time. “That woman loves you. You just need to love her back.”
Ma gives my father a smile and nods her head, not taking her eyes from him.
“You should listen to your father, Charlie.” She finally looks at me. “If you love her, go get her and don’t let her go.”
CHAPTER 37
Grace
* * *
MISCARRIAGES ARE NORMAL, the doctor’s voice echoes in my head. Almost one quarter of pregnancies end in miscarriage.
I grip the steering wheel as I drive home, willing myself not to cry. I think I cried all the tears in the world sitting on a bed in the emergency room. I feel empty inside, no matter how much reassurance the ER doctor gave me.
They released me, so now I’m pulling up outside my apartment. Alone. Only one heart beating now, only one person drawing power from my body.
That knowledge makes my heart seize up just a little. I push the thought out of my mind, but that just allows a thousand other little thoughts to pop up.
Could I have stopped it? I picture the way I fell off my bed the other day, and the way I picked up a stack of boxes yesterday at work. Either one of those could have been the catalyst.
I slowly inhale and exhale, trying to talk myself down. The doctor said that miscarriages are common, especially this early in a pregnancy.
Once I’ve calmed down a little, I get out of the car. It seems like a really long hike to get to my apartment, though I’ve climbed these stairs a thousand times.
Stress. Stress isn’t good on the baby. Stress is why… I know it is. And I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself.
I come around the corner, and am surprised to find Charlie. He's sitting on my doormat, reading my Blick Art Materials catalog from my mailbox. He looks up at me, closing the magazine and putting it aside.
“You didn’t answer my calls or texts,” he says, as if that explains everything.
I rub my forehead, feeling the weight of a horrid headache approaching.
“I’ve been
busy,” I say. “Can I get to my door, please?”
Charlie stands up, moving aside. “Are you going to let me in?”
“That depends. Are you going to scream at me? Or is that something that you only reserve for your family?”
I unlock my door, swinging it open. He glances downward, showing his shame.
“I promise, that won’t ever happen again.”
I stare at him for a long moment, at his downcast expression and his regretful posture. He usually takes up all the space around him, but now he’s meek.
Sweeping my hand out, I gesture toward the doorway. “Alright. Go ahead.” My heart is frantic, although outwardly I’m trying not to show it. It feels like it’s all just too little too late. I don’t think there’s any way to go back.
Charlie ambles inside, and I close the door behind us both. The click seems louder than usual. I put my keys down in the bowl and hang up my purse, then walk over to where Charlie has seated himself on the couch.
I look at him for a second, then sit on the bed, my butt pushing back my pillows.
“Talk to me,” he says.
“About what?”
“Just… tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I want to know.”
Thump. My heart pains at this. I don’t want to tell him. “Really?” I ask.
“Really. Even if it’s all bad stuff about me, I want to know. I want you to get it out.”
His eyes plead with me, and I know I have to tell him. I can’t shoulder this burden alone, not with him here, asking what I’m thinking. I need to be strong and tell him what happened. I look down at the comforter, swallowing thickly and picking at the threads.
“You’re an asshole,” the words slip out before I can catch them.
“I deserve that.”
“I thought I meant-” I start to say, but he cuts me off.
“You do. You mean more to me. I didn’t mean what I said to Michael.”
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