Serenading Heartbreak

by Ella Fields

  Everett was silent as I kept turning the pages until, eventually, I came across a photo of a newborn baby snuggled next to him on a threadbare couch.

  “Mason,” I breathed, my finger caressing where his head lay tucked next to Everett’s leg. He had no hair, but as I turned page after page, Everett deathly still beside me, I saw him morph from a helpless newborn, into a crawling baby, a toddler, and then into a little boy.

  He had the blondest hair I’d ever seen, almost white, and the same color eyes as his big brother. “So much like you.”

  Everett was a silent force, and when I glanced at him, I discovered he couldn’t speak. His eyes were wet, his face pale, and I shut the album, then put it on the nightstand beside my phone.

  “Come,” I said, lying down and smacking the pillow beside mine.

  After blowing out a wet sounding breath, he pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, then joined me.

  I stared into his eyes, willing away the sheen to them that stabbed at my heart. “Did your therapist ask you to do that?”

  “Yeah.” A dry, vacant word, his eyes someplace he’d probably rather not be. One step at a time, I surmised. He’d endured enough over the past ten minutes.

  “Kiss me.”

  The present snapped back into his face and transformed it into a perplexed frown. “Clover.”

  “Kiss me,” I repeated, my fingers gliding over and up his arm, causing a shiver to follow.

  “I can’t,” he said.

  My racing heart skidded to a brutal halt. “Why not?”

  “Because,” he said with a glimmer of a smile. “I need to know you forgive me before I take anything else from you.”

  My eyes stayed on his for an interminable amount of time, and each pound of my heart became louder the longer I replayed all he’d done. And then the gentle, earnest adoration in those green orbs had me checking myself. Severely.

  “I find myself doing this thing,” I said, needing to be honest, my heart bleeding and waiting for someone to staunch it.

  “Oh yeah?” The raspy timbre ignited goose bumps.

  “Yeah.” I shifted closer, my huge belly touching his. “I don’t know when exactly it happened, but somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing the good. Or maybe I blocked it out in order to hold onto my bruised feelings to better protect them next time. Either way, it’s time to admit I’ve been shortsighted.” My hand reached his face, my fingers ghosting over the harsh rise of his cheekbone and feathering over the hair lining his jaw. “You’ve got so much good in you, Everett Taylor. So fucking much. But the things you’ve done to hurt me… they outweighed the good. Or so I thought.”

  He kissed my fingers when they reached his lips, and I smiled, sniffing as I let it all tumble to the surface. The tummy flutters, the secretive smiles, the afternoons spent pretending to do his homework, the jumping through my window, and the unbending way he looked at me when no one else was around, and filled my every waking thought. He’d been my dream since I’d first laid eyes on him, and I gave up on him when he’d turned into a nightmare.

  “They don’t outweigh it. Your heart is too big, your soul too magnetic. And I guess what I’m trying to say is that I believe in you. I always have, and I probably always will. Not just because I love you, but because you’re worth believing in.”

  His hand met mine over his cheek. “Clover.”

  “Can we name him Mason?”

  “Christ,” he said, sniffing back tears. “Really?”

  I worried my lip. “If you want?”

  “I want,” he said, a tear escaping his eye. “Thank you.”

  I caught the tiny bead, brought it to my lips and rubbed. “Can you kiss me now?”

  His gaze tracked the movement, and he huffed out a humorous breath, then leaned forward, his hand holding my face.

  “Just so you know.” With my lips over his, I stopped, my fears lingering between us, needing more. “You can fuck up, make mistake after mistake. I don’t, and never will, expect perfection. What I do expect is you. Here. With me. No matter what.”

  I heard him swallow. “No matter what. Through whatever kind of hell, I’ll be right beside you, loving you.”

  It felt like I was standing on the edge of eternity, staring it in the eyes as another darker pair flashed through my mind. It could’ve been beautiful, what Aiden and I had, but it wasn’t what I needed.

  And though I knew it would hurt, I couldn’t run and hide from this.

  Already, I knew the years would pass and that ache would dull, but it would probably always linger. I could live with a dull ache, but I couldn’t live with a gash that never stopped bleeding.

  All thoughts of Aiden vanished as my lips found the smooth, familiar curve of Everett’s, and we both sighed, our mouths parting with the sound, then melding again.

  After a minute, I whispered into his mouth, “That doesn’t mean I’m saying yes.”

  He grinned, lips fusing to mine. “Not yet.”

  My boots crunched over some loose gravel in the parking lot, the streetlamps casting the surrounding cars and building ahead in patches of black and orange.

  Everett wasn’t thrilled with what I was doing. No, scratch that, he was probably pacing the floor of the living room, waiting for me to get home.

  But I wasn’t going to lie to him, and I wasn’t going to do this any other way. He understood that, even respected it, but still, he respectfully fucking hated it.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  I paused near the steps, only just realizing Aiden was sitting at the bottom with his hands between his bent knees.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” He stood, striding toward me with slow, purpose-filled steps. I backed up to the wall, Deja vu rattling my heart. “I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his eyes swimming into mine. “So sorry.”

  “You had places to be. I get it.”

  “No.” My heart sank. “I did, but I could’ve opted out. I’ve just… I’ve been a coward.”

  “You’re no coward, Prince.” I tried to infuse some light into the heavy that’d settled between us.

  It wouldn’t budge.

  He chuckled, dark and graveled. “The idea of losing you? Well, I think it was easier to bear by avoiding the situation. You can’t end something that’s not happening. But I’m done with that. With being afraid of losing. I can be what you need me to be and then some.”

  “Aiden,” I warned.

  His hands cupped my cheeks, his head dipping, forcing my eyes to his. “Give me a chance. A real, honest to God chance, and I’ll never once make you regret it.”

  God. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t this. My heart shredded, tore right down the center, and fell to the ground beneath our feet.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You can. You fucking can.” His hands tightened. “I just got sick of picking up the pieces, of feeling like I’m second best. I’m not, and we’re more than that. I know that now, and you know it too.”

  “We were always more than second best. You were always more than that.” It needed to be said because it was nothing but the truth.

  Hope danced and swayed over his features, and I felt a part of myself slip away, knowing what I had to do. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” His thumbs caressed my cheeks, and before I could draw breath, his lips were on mine.

  I let myself have it, that one tiny taste of what I’d be walking away from.

  A best friend. A lover. A future filled with mischievous smiles.

  When his head angled and his tongue tried to pry my lips apart, I pushed him back. “No, I mean I’m sorry, Aiden, because I can’t…” Tears blinded, sending me rocking on my feet.

  His hands fell, slapping to his sides as what was happening registered. As what he’d seen on my face, perhaps found on my lips, sank deeper.

  He stumbled back, a hand pulling at his hair, a stream of unintelligible curses flung at the concrete and brick surrounding us
.

  “I’m sorry, so sorry.” I kept repeating myself, over and over, hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d know how much I meant it, and hoping he’d see how hard this was.

  “No.” He froze, leather jacket bunching as he stood eerily still. “Say it. Say what you want, Stevie.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t, Aiden.”

  “Don’t?” he thundered, spinning to level me with a look of utter devastation, one I’d remember for the rest of my life. A harsh laugh preceded his words. “If you can’t say it’s me, when I’m standing here, fucking begging for you to, then we already know the answer, don’t we?”

  I could do nothing. Nothing but chant those useless words. “I’m sorry.”

  He roared, hand slamming into a glass window in the brick wall beside me.

  Glass showered like rain, mingling with the echo of my scream.

  And then something wet trickled down my thigh, my panties flooding and clinging. “Oh, shit.” I staggered, thinking I’d peed myself.

  Aiden’s face paled, and he stared in horror before using his uninjured hand to retrieve his phone from his jeans.

  Hurried footsteps sounded. Then Everett’s voice, strangled and layered in anger, bounced off the walls. “Don’t bother, I’ve got her.”

  Slowing, he reached me in a few rushed strides, taking my hand and checking my face. “You can walk?”

  I nodded, and he led me back to the car, laid down a towel he’d been keeping in the trunk, and helped me in. “You came.”

  “Jogged over as soon as you left.” His laughter was silent. “Did you really think I was going to be able to wait?” His hands were tight around the steering wheel. “That I’d let my pregnant girl just go visit her ex in the dark?”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “No, it’s him I don’t trust. And I just… I don’t know. I had this feeling. Don’t give me shit, okay? It’s a damn good thing I listened to it.”

  As a sharp pain splintered and began to band around my midsection, I lost any will I had to argue with him. Not that I had much to say in the first place.

  Mason Hendrix Taylor was born at three thirty the following afternoon, welcomed into the world via the form of a knife to the stomach after keeping me in limbo for hours on end.

  I’d survived better than I thought even though every time I coughed, it felt like I’d tear my stitches and my insides might leak out.

  Staring into his tiny, scrunched face, brushing my fingers over the golden tuft of hair on his head and the planes of his rosy, round cheeks, I fell in love for the third time in my short life.

  And I knew that love, combined with the love of the hovering male who wouldn’t leave my side, would be enough.

  It was strong enough to fill cracks and cover scars, to ease the bruising left behind, and I had hope that it’d have the power to eventually heal. To release me from the curse I’d willingly walked into.

  On our last night in the hospital, I stirred when I felt the soft touch of lips resting upon my forehead, and inhaled a familiar scent. With my heart thudding hard, I forced my eyes to open in time to see Aiden’s dark form slip soundlessly out of the room.

  To fall in love twice was a beautiful rarity.

  To be in love with two men at the same time was a cruel twist of fate.

  Your soul was split right down the middle, a piece of you stolen forever.

  Some people walked through life never having tasted the essence of falling in love. Some people fell over and over again until they finally fell the right way and found something true.

  I didn’t know if I’d done it right or wrong.

  But as I dragged my aching eyes to Everett, dozing in the chair by the window with our son curled into the crook of his arm, I knew I’d travel any path all over again if it would lead me back to them.

  My only wish, the one that would keep me awake for years to come, would be for the lost piece of my soul to one day feel that way too.

  Everett

  One Year Later

  They say all that glitters is not gold.

  Well, I begged to fucking differ.

  Since the first time I’d laid eyes on Stevie Sandrine, her sunshine had branded me with its warmth.

  It took her six months after Mason was born to finally wear my ring and another six months to convince her we were getting married today.

  In a field of sunflowers and mismatched pastel painted chairs, I felt those stubborn ripped pieces of my soul stitch back together.

  There’d been days growing up when all I could do was stare at her and listen and wait for any sound of her. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d one day be able to say she was forever mine.

  I was born in shadows, and she’d radiated nothing but light.

  Our journey hadn’t been easy, but nothing worth having was ever easy to attain. And although there were days I’d catch her staring out the window, lost to her own thoughts, I knew she didn’t have any regrets. As much of an asshole as I was, as much as I needed her, I wouldn’t have let her choose me if I didn’t feel it was what she’d truly wanted.

  All I’d ever wanted was for her to be happy, to keep that glow of hers alive, and I gave up on believing I couldn’t be the one to do that. I now knew differently. I’d always known differently. I’d just been too lost to the past to think clearly of a future or think I’d even deserved one.

  But I did. I do.

  And there she was, gliding toward me, glittering and golden, encased in an ivory lace gown.

  Beaded flowers danced in the sunlight over her chest, and I watched, mesmerized, as the flowers morphed into silken waves that draped and dripped below her breasts, shimmering and swaying over the curves of her hips while hiding those willowy legs.

  Catching a glimpse of her boots, I felt my throat thicken, and my eyes swung up to meet hers.

  Her vivid blues, glossed and lined with dark lashes, shimmered with her smile.

  My chest heaved and I clenched my hands together as the breeze tugged some of her long golden hair aside. A crown of daisies perched atop her head, and fuck if that didn’t just about send me over the edge.

  But then she frowned, her head tilted a fraction, her smile waning. “What’s wrong?” she mouthed the words.

  Fuck. “Nothing at all,” I mouthed back.

  Her brows puckered, but she turned to her dad, kissing both of his cheeks.

  Brad’s eyes were wet, his smile shaking as he handed her over to me. Before he could—to hell with the rules—I took his hand, pulling him close to hug, and whisper, “Thank you.”

  “Jesus, kid. Don’t make me blubber like a baby.”

  Smiling, I held him close another second, then released him, winking at Brenna, who’d been crying since she’d claimed her seat in the front row.

  She laughed, then her face crumpled, and she blew her nose again.

  Seated near Brenna, Sabrina had her arm around Gloria, who’d given up on drying her eyes.

  Finally, I looked over at Clover, who was biting her lip, trying not to let the tears in her eyes spill down those beautiful cheeks. I offered my hand. “Ready?”

  Nodding, she released her lip as her hand slid into mine and squeezed. “You look dashing.”

  “Dashing?” We took our place in front of the celebrant, and I glanced down at my almond-colored suit, new boots, and white dress shirt.

  “Sexy?”

  I raised a brow.

  “Handsome?”

  “Getting warmer.”

  She grinned, and her lips quivered, her voice choked and sincere. “You look like you belong with me.”

  The celebrant cleared her throat.

  I ignored her.

  “Better,” I said and brought Stevie’s mouth to mine.

  “No freaking way.” Stevie’s eyes widened at the stage set up beneath the dome-like tent we’d hired.

  The wedding and reception were held at a flower farm a half hour’s drive north of Plume Grove. Which hid among deserted far
mland just a ten minutes’ drive from the beach.

  The elderly couple who owned it had stopped hosting weddings here years ago. But after showing up on their doorstep with Stevie and Mason in tow, they took one look at Stevie’s dazed expression and caved before I’d even opened my mouth to beg.

  “Did you plan this?” she asked, as Hendrix started singing “Start Me Up” by the Stones.

  I switched Mason to my other knee, handing him another slice of apple. “Maybe.”

  “Come to Pa,” Brad said, stealing my kid.

  He went willingly, his apple falling to the grass as he kicked his legs and smiled down into Brad’s face.

  “Shall we?” I stood, holding out my hand.

  “This is some first dance,” Stevie murmured into my neck once we’d reached the cleared space, and I’d pulled her body flush with mine.

  “You don’t like?”

  Her laughter fluttered over my skin, warming and drugging. “It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  Grinning, I stepped back to spin her around and couldn’t help but wonder if I truly was the luckiest bastard alive when she threw her head back and laughed.

  We weren’t alone for long. Mason, who’d just started walking, toddled over, his arms wrapping around my leg. With my brows raised, I gazed down at him.

  “Bup, bup.” He bounced, arms reaching, green eyes huge and pleading.

  Releasing Stevie, I lifted Mason high into the air, then held him as we continued to dance. Albeit with a lot less romance, but plenty of laughter.

  Stevie

  Four Years Later

  The sound of the piano downstairs snuck through the floorboards of the second floor where I was busying myself with cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

  Everett had made chicken stir-fry, my current favorite, and then needed to retreat to his cave to finish one of his latest creations.

  He still worked with Jack and some of the artists at Keen Records, especially Orange Apples, being that Hendrix wasn’t one to write more than a few songs before running out of steam.

  Which was what he’d called it. Hendrix had yet to have his heart broken, or fall in love, and so that was how he chalked up his inability to write about the subject matter.