He slumped onto a barstool like every ounce of energy had drained out of him. “But I asked you to marry me without knowing.”
She frowned at the tabletop. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it doesn’t. And you know what else doesn’t make sense? You going through the trauma of a miscarriage alone. I don’t know what makes me angrier.”
Her head popped up. It had never occurred to her that he’d care about that. “I had Momma.”
“Does Jess know?” he asked, his voice soft.
“No. Only Momma knows—and now you.” She swallowed and prayed for a miracle. “Can you forgive me?”
Matt hung his head, his chest rising and falling like he’d just finished a marathon. “I don’t know, Amy-Lynn. I’ve always thought there was more to our break-up than the reasons you gave, but this is on an entirely different level. I suppose I could come to forgive you. We were still basically kids. But I’m not sure I can ever trust you again.”
“Matt,” she pleaded, reaching out for his arm.
He pulled it away. “No. I need some time to think.” He grabbed his keys from the counter and turned toward the door.
“Matt,” she said, softer this time. He stopped but didn’t turn. “Will you be at the show on Monday?”
He whirled around and locked eyes with her. She expected anger, but all she saw was hurt and disappointment. That was so much worse. “Fuck, Amy-Lynn, you drop a bombshell like this, and you’re worried about your goddamn show?”
“No, I just meant . . .”
“Forget it,” he said, yanking open the door and letting it slam behind him.
“Wyatt’s asleep,” Isabel said softly. How long had she been sitting at the table? It felt like hours, but likely it had only been minutes.
“You mean he didn’t wake up when World War 3 broke out down here?” Avery attempted a smile that she knew just twisted her lips into a grimace.
“You okay?” her mother asked, sliding into the chair opposite.
“Not even a little bit. But at least it’s out in the open. It’s one less piece of baggage to carry around. Though I suppose I could replace it with guilt, for all the pain I caused him.”
“About that baggage,” Isabel said, her voice still soft, like she was trying to communicate with a spooked animal. “Apparently, you and Matt are not the only ones who need to clear the air. You and I need to talk about a few things. About your father and me. And some things you said.”
Her grimace deepened. “You heard that?” She’d hoped that only the sound had carried, not the actual words. She’d never spoken to Momma about any of this.
“Honey, the people getting gas at the corner mart heard it.”
Avery winced. “Sorry.”
Isabel rubbed Avery’s back. “I can’t believe you have been carrying the burden of our marriage—and your Daddy’s death around. How long have you felt this way?”
“Pretty much since I did the math and figured out you were pregnant with me when you got married. So, since I was nine?” She laughed a mirthless laugh.
Isabel rubbed her sternum. “That hurts my heart.” She looked up, realization dawning. “But it does finally explain the anxiety. Did you tell your therapist about this?”
“Not exactly. I told her about feeling responsible to be the second breadwinner in the house once Daddy passed.”
“Why didn’t you come to me with this? Yes, finances were tight, but I had a budget. We had Daddy’s military benefits, and I worked as many hours as necessary to pay the bills.”
Avery shrugged. “I didn’t want you to work so hard. I wanted to give you and Jess more. And since it was all my fault . . .”
“Okay, enough.” Isabel grabbed both of Avery’s hands and squeezed. “Look at me. It’s time—well past time—we talked this out. I will not watch you continue to punish yourself for things you had no control over.”
“But —”
“No buts. Yes, I got pregnant. Your father and I decided together to get married. Even before my parents’ ultimatum. It was our decision. We thought we could make it work. And yes, it didn’t work out the way we planned. Unfortunately. But do you remember any fighting?”
Avery searched her memory. Not a single fight manifested in her mind. It felt far more like apathy than anger. “No. But I remember a lot of deployments. I figured Daddy just left every chance he got.”
“Those deployments were joint decisions, as well. Whatever you imagined they meant, it’s not the truth. You’re right about the love. It did die. But not because of anything sinister. We just grew up. We got married at eighteen and by the time we were adults, after a second baby, we just didn’t have a lot in common anymore. The love may have died, but the respect never did. He was a good father, mi hija. And we figured out a way to co-parent. We figured out how to share a house. For you and Jess.
“Your father’s death was a wartime tragedy and had nothing to do with you. Yes, his choices were because of you. But because he loved you so much and wanted to provide a good life for you—for all of us, not because he was running from a family he didn’t want.”
“Was Jess planned?” She had no idea why she wanted to know that. She just did. Searching for all the pieces of the puzzle, maybe?
“I know we McWilliams women do not have an impressive track record of planned pregnancies, but yes, she was planned. We made the mistake that so many couples make, that maybe another baby would rekindle our relationship.”
Avery wiped her tears on her sleeve.
Isabel smiled a sad smile and pulled a tissue from her pocket. She dabbed at Avery’s tears like she was eleven instead of thirty-one. “I’m so sorry you’ve taken on so many burdens and lost so much of your childhood—and if I really think about it, given up your early adulthood to provide for me and Jess. And I’m sorry I didn’t put the pieces together sooner.”
“You’ve had a lot on your plate,” Avery said, laying her head on her mother’s shoulder.
Isabel shook her head. “It’s no excuse.”
“I like taking care of you and Jess—and Wyatt.”
“I know you do, but it can’t be at the cost of your own life,” Isabel said, patting Avery’s leg.
Avery snuffled, and her pulse finally dropped from hare to tortoise. “Thanks for telling me all this.”
Her mother nodded and then grabbed her shoulders, squeezing. “There’s one more thing.”
Avery stiffened. “Yes?”
Isabel locked eyes with Avery. “Yes, you made some decisions you regret, but it’s time to forgive yourself. For my marriage. For Daddy’s death. For your pregnancy. And for not telling Matt.”
Avery’s eyes widened. “But you’ve always chided me for excluding him and not telling him.”
“Yes, I’ve always believed he deserved to know, but that is separate from you beating yourself up about it. And here’s a little more tough love. I think pushing him away—then and now—is just another way you’re punishing yourself.”
Avery’s first response was to deny it, but it rang true. She thought she’d pushed Matt away to save him, but had she really been protecting herself? Did she push him away before he walked away first?
Did she trust relationships so little?
“Oh, Momma, I’ve made such a mess of things.” She should have told him when he asked her to marry him. She should have told him after that first day at the station. And she certainly should have told him before they slept together.
“Do you love him, Amy-Lynn?”
Avery sniffled and nodded. “I’ve never stopped.”
Isabel clasped Avery’s fingers in her own. “Does he love you?”
“Does it matter? It’s not like he’ll trust me again.”
“I know I may not be the one to give advice on this subject, but the heart is a very resilient muscle. Do you think he still loves you?”
“Yes,” Avery whispered. “He’s hinted at it.” He’d done more than hinted, but if Avery admitted i
t out loud, her heart would surely shatter. Right here. Right now. In a million little pieces.
“Then there’s a chance.”
Avery raised her eyebrows at her mother.
Isabel smiled. “It might be a slim chance, but it’s still a chance. Try explaining again. Tell him how you feel.”
Avery twisted her hands in her lap. She desperately wanted to believe in that tiny chance. “How do I even get him to hear me out?”
“You are one of the strongest, most resourceful women I know.”
“In my professional life. My personal life is a giant clusterfuck.”
Isabel chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to tell Amy-Lynn to take a back seat and let Avery Lind take charge.”
How many times had she told herself the same thing? “But —"
“Matt!” Wyatt yelled from upstairs. “Matt come!”
Isabel laughed. “Seems like you’re not the only one who’s taken with Mr. Taylor.”
Avery rose from her chair.
“No,” Isabel said. “I’ll get him, and Jess will be home soon. It’s time to start taking care of yourself.”
She circled her fingers around her mother’s arm. “But Momma, he’s getting heavy, you shouldn’t be lifting him.”
Isabel sniffed and waved Avery off. “Nonsense. The doctor said I should keep as active as possible, especially in periods of remission.”
Avery cocked her head and pursed her lips. “Momma.”
Her mother mimicked her expression. “Amy-Lynn. We’ve all leaned on you too long. That stops now.”
Avery watched her mother walk to the stairs. Take care of myself? Where would she even begin? She was pretty sure the answer wouldn’t be found on a to-do list or a spreadsheet. The answer existed in only one place.
Her heart.
Chapter Nineteen
Matt studied the beads of condensation making tracks down his pint glass. He’d spent the last twenty-four hours going over and over Amy-Lynn’s admission.
She’d been pregnant with his child.
She’d chosen not to tell him.
She’d walked away.
The panic attack at the hospital hadn’t been about the soldier. It had been about the baby. Should he have seen it? He tipped his head to his right shoulder, cracking his neck, but the tightness remained.
No. Never in his wildest imagination would he have imagined this scenario. He’d only wanted confirmation of his suspicions—that she’d left him because he was ‘all flash and no substance,’ the proverbial class clown. Hell, when he drove to her house that day, he’d considered letting it all go. So what if she’d thought that nine years ago? He was a different man now.
Hadn’t he been in for a surprise?
He pounded a fist against his chest. He never knew his heart could ache like this. He thought the worst pain he’d ever experienced was when Amy-Lynn broke it off, but he’d been wrong.
“Hey.”
Matt looked up to find Nick standing at the edge of the table. “You made it.”
“You sounded desperate. Sorry I’m a little late. It took me a few phone calls to find someone to watch Henry.”
A vision of Wyatt flashed in Matt’s mind, and his heart squeezed again. He really didn’t think about the support system a single parent needed until Amy-Lynn was called into duty. “Sorry man.”
Nick slid into the booth, raising an eyebrow. “For?”
“For being selfish. I didn’t think about childcare—or the fact that you can’t really bring a kid to a bar on a Saturday night.”
Nick laughed. “Or any night.”
Matt shook his head. Maybe he really couldn’t think about anyone but himself. “I should have suggested a diner, or something.”
Nick scratched his beard and scanned Matt’s face. “It’s fine. It’s not like you do this regularly. Plus, I can honestly say I’ve never seen a guy more in need of a drink.”
Matt nodded and took a long draw off his beer.
“When are the other guys getting here?” Nick asked, scanning the small pub.
“They’re not coming. Didn’t invite them,” Matt muttered while rubbing circles over his temple.
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “It’s just me?”
Matt nodded and spun his glass on the paper coaster provided by the bar. “I need a dad’s perspective.”
Nick’s eyes flew open. “Oh shit, is someone pregnant?”
Matt frowned. “Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?” Matt opened his mouth, but Nick raised a single finger. “Hold that thought. It’s becoming clear that I’ll need a beer for this discussion.”
Matt watched his friend walk to the bar. Nick had been the right call. Any of the guys would’ve showed, but Nick would understand that making jokes wasn’t the way to make him feel better. Tonight was not the night for ribbing about the ‘Matt Taylor Charm’ or how his smile was his ‘get out of jail free’ card. Neither charm nor a perfect smile was going to help him through this.
Nick slid back into the booth, careful not to spill his drink. “Shit. You look worse than when I left. What is going on? You said someone was pregnant.”
Matt nodded. “You remember how I told you that Avery and I dated seriously throughout high school and college and then she broke up with me out of the blue?”
“Mmhmm,” Nick said, siphoning the top of his beer. “On the day you proposed.”
Memories of that day flashed in front of his eyes. Her expression—first elation, followed by something cold—finally made sense. “I always thought the excuses she gave seemed off. And I was right. She broke up with me because she was pregnant.”
“What?” Nick asked, his eyes popping wide. “With some other dude’s baby?”
“That’s what I initially asked too, but no, it was mine.”
“Whoa.” Nick scrubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “When did she tell you?”
“Friday.”
“Friday? Like yesterday, Friday?”
Was it only yesterday? It felt like a year ago.
“Yep,” Matt said, popping the P.
Nick picked up his pint, slid a cocktail napkin underneath it, and folded up the corners. Nick was a fiddler. He once told Matt that he thought with his fingers. If they were in motion, you could be pretty sure his brain was too. “So you have a kid?”
Sadness crackled like lightning through Matt’s chest. “No. She miscarried.”
Nick folded the napkin again. “And all this happened, like, nine years ago? And she’s just telling you now?”
Matt was pleased he wasn’t the only who thought it was odd. “Pretty sure if the radio gig hadn’t happened, I’d have gone the rest of my life not knowing.”
The server stopped at their table, pointing at their glasses and raising an eyebrow. “He’s going to need a second one,” Nick said, pointing at Matt. “And I’ll take an order of onion rings.”
“Got it. One O-ring. And another IPA. Coming right up.” The server turned away, but not before winking at Matt and exchanging a piece of paper with his phone number on it for Matt’s empty glass.
“Wow,” Nick said, watching the server walk away. “That was bold.”
Matt blew out a breath. “Seriously. Does something like that ever work?”
“I’m confused,” Nick said.
Matt smirked for the first time since Amy-Lynn dropped her truth bomb. “What? You don’t get hit on like that?”
“No, not about that. And, no, I do not get hit on like that. I’m pretty sure the neon ‘single dad’ sticker on my forehead scares people away. I’m confused because you were ready to marry her.”
Matt balled up the server’s phone number and stuffed it under his thigh. “Yes.”
“So why wouldn’t she tell you? I know it would have changed your plans, but you were graduating and planning on spending your life together.”
“She said it was because she didn’t want to trap me into marriage and have me end up resenting her because I’d
have to give up my dreams. She’d seen that happen with her parents.”
Nick rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “People making decisions for other people with no consultation really pisses me off.”
Matt knew Nick wasn’t only talking about Amy-Lynn. But one issue at a time.
“She said she tried to call and tell me, but never found the courage and then she miscarried and figured what was the point.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I don’t know. It feels like she pushed me away because she didn’t think I had what it took to be a father. She wasn’t protecting me but protecting herself and the baby from me.”
“Dude, how can you say that? I’ve seen you with Henry. Kids love you.”
Matt sighed. “Probably for the reason everyone else loves me. Giant clown. Just a big kid himself. Nice to look at, but nothing else.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “Jesus, is that what you think of yourself?”
Matt pulled out the scrunched-up napkin from under his leg and lobbed it at Nick. “That’s the way the world sees me. Matt doesn’t have real emotions or struggle with things, because look at him. People that look like him don’t have problems.”
Nick stared at him for a long time.
“Spit it out,” Matt said.
“I think her reasons for pushing you away are hers, but if not, do you think she doesn’t believe in you because you don’t believe in yourself?”
Nick’s words landed with a thud in the middle of his chest. “I believe in myself!”
“You sure? I think you might be projecting.”
A humorless laugh leaked out of Matt. “Projecting? Where did you pick that up?”
Nick shrugged. “Most of the magazines in the pediatrician’s office have a female bent—there are a lot of personal development articles in those magazines.”
A smile lifted the corners of Matt’s lips. Nick—big, burly, bearded Nick—had more layers than anyone knew. And as much as he wanted to tease him, Matt couldn’t help wondering if he wasn’t right.
“So, let’s just say you might be right—which I’m not conceding—but if you are, what do I do?”
Don't Let the Music Die (The Storyhill Musicians Book 2) Page 20
