Love Series (Complete Series)

by Natasha Madison

  “I know Mom and Dad miss them also.”

  “So then why haven’t they called them? Why haven’t they shown up to see them?” I ask him as we slowly walk back. I try to keep my voice down so they don’t hear me.

  “It’s just that they don’t feel welcome anymore.”

  “Well, that’s on them, not on me. I painted the house, for Christ’s sake. I didn’t change the locks.”

  “I know, but it’s just a big change for everyone.”

  “Yeah, don’t I know it. We used to have dinner with you guys four times a week, and now you go days without calling me. Your mother and I used to go do mani and pedis every single Thursday, and now I’m sitting waiting to see if she will call.”

  I don’t get to finish because we finally get home, and the kids start to run inside. “Come say goodbye to Uncle Elliot,” I tell them.

  We make our way upstairs, and Lizzie takes a shower while Daisy takes a bath, and by eight thirty, they are both snoring.

  I collapse in bed, also calling Blake, and it goes to voicemail. I wait an hour and then call him back, and I figure he’s on a call, so I send him a text.

  The next morning, I start my routine by walking the kids to the bus stop. Today my goal is to clean out Eric’s closet. It’s random and spur of the moment, but I think I’m up for it; I think my heart can handle it. I open the closet, and his woodsy smell hits me right away. It’s almost as if I’m letting him out. I can’t explain it. His smell is all around me; I feel him all around me. I don’t think I can do this after all, but my hand moves without me realizing what is going on. My fingers going to his shirt, a shirt I washed and ironed for him. I flick it off the hanger and fold it, putting it on the bed, and I go to the next one, and by the time I look around, all his clothes are folded on my bed. I get two plastic bins out and stack the clothes in them, putting them in the corner to be carried downstairs.

  I grab a stool and grab some of his shoe boxes from on top of his shelf. When I take down four, I step off and put them on the bed. Opening them, I see the shoes are almost brand new. “I don’t know why he bought so many fucking shoes when all he wore were his Nikes and his steel toe boots.”

  I get back up and pull the next stack down, finding a brown plastic bag on top. I open it up and see pictures of the kids along with a woman’s watch. The card is with it. Happy Mother’s Day to the best mom ever, he wrote, and a tear comes down my cheek. It’s two months away, yet he knew what he was getting me.

  My finger traces his writing, and I bring it to my chest.

  I get back up and take the remaining shoe boxes out. A brown envelope in the corner under the boxes slips off the shelf with the boxes. It lands on its back, and I bend down to pick it up. My name is written on top, so I flip the flap open and pull out two folded white pieces of paper. I open and see it’s a letter from Eric, and my legs give out. I fall with my back against my bed as I read his letter.

  My sweet Sammie,

  I don’t know where to begin, so I guess I’ll start at the beginning. When I first saw you waiting tables while I studied for my final, something inside me shifted or clicked into place; I can’t really explain it. All I knew was that I was mesmerized, and then you spoke to me and you literally sounded like an angel. Then when I asked you out, and you said yes, I thought I had won the jackpot, and in a lot of ways, I did.

  When I watched you walk down the aisle, I knew I would never love anyone as much as I loved you. I promised to love, honor, and cherish you for all the days of my life.

  I lied, and there is no easy way for me to say this. But somewhere between pledging my love for you and creating our two beautiful girls, I lost myself, or so I thought. I was going through the motions. Work, home, kids, repeat. It was as if the movie was just looping through, and I started to feel lost.

  Then one day, I ran into someone, and the spark returned. I know this is a fucked-up way to find out, and if you’re reading this, then something really bad must have happened to me.

  But I married someone else. I honestly just thought it was an affair until I realized I couldn’t let her go. I couldn’t picture my life without her, but then I couldn’t let you go either.

  I’m a selfish fucking bastard, and I wanted you both.

  I want to say I regret it, but I can’t because loving you made me, but loving her completed me.

  I hope that in time you can forgive me, that you can tell the kids the good about me, that you can protect them when the bad comes. You’re stronger than you think you are.

  With love always

  Your Husband

  Eric

  The letter slips from my hands as does the envelope, but the pictures that are inside slip out, showing me who this woman is. Showing me who Hailey is. It’s a picture of them on their wedding day. The wail that comes through me fills the house, and if the windows were open, I’m sure someone would have called 911.

  I fall sideways as my body curls into the fetal position. I cry for the man I met, I cry for the man I fell in love with, I cry for the man who married me, I cry for the man who gave me two children, and I cry for myself because with one letter, he has left me more broken than I was before.

  That one letter has shown me what was right in front of me the whole time; he loved me, but I wasn’t good enough for him.

  I lie in the spot as I hear the phone ring and ignore it. I only get up when it’s time to get the girls, and no matter how hard I try to hide it, the kids notice.

  “Are you sick, Mommy?” Daisy asks when we walk in the door, and I take off my sunglasses, the redness in my eyes giving me away.

  “I’m just sad today,” I tell her as Lizzie gives me a hug.

  “I can make us nuggets in the toaster oven,” she says and then turns to Daisy. “Get your homework, I’ll help you.”

  I lie on the couch motionless as I blink and look at the picture that I still haven’t hung back up. The picture I won’t hang up. When it’s bedtime, I roll off the couch and tuck the girls in and then come back to my room. The brown envelope is out of sight tucked under my clothes in the first drawer.

  I close my eyes and rock myself, hoping that the darkness takes me, but it doesn’t, no matter how hard I squeeze my eyes. When the phone rings again, this time, I reach out and answer it.

  “Hello?” I say, my eyes closed as tears pour out onto the pillow.

  “What’s the matter?” Blake says right away. “Are you hurt?”

  “Not that you can see,” I tell him.

  “Where are you?” I hear him moving around.

  “I’m in bed,” I tell him.

  “Are you sick?” His voice is trying to be calm, but he’s failing.

  “No,” I answer, and then I tell him, “I cleaned out Eric’s closet today.”

  “Oh, shit,” he says. “Why?”

  “Because I thought today was a good day, because I thought I was strong enough, because I thought I would be okay.”

  “Where are the girls?” he asks, and I cry out a little bit because he doesn’t even know them; he’s never fucking met them, yet he cares more than their actual family does.

  “In bed. Lizzie made dinner,” I tell him. “He left me a letter,” I finally say. “A confession of sorts. He told me all about Hailey. Also left me a nice picture of the two of them on their wedding day.”

  “Prick.” I hear him hiss. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Because it happened so fast. I didn’t even know what it was till I opened it. He loved her,” I say with a sob. “Loving me made him but loving her completed him.”

  “I can’t fucking believe this,” he says. “I have to go.”

  “Okay,” I say, hanging up as I look at the wall. I don’t know how long I lie here; I don’t know how much times goes by. The phone ringing snaps me out of it. “Hello?” I say quietly, seeing it’s now a little past eleven.

  “Open the door,” he says and disconnects. I sit up in bed, shocked and surprised. I go to the front door and ope
n it, my eyes taking him in. His green eyes shining in the moonlight, his blue shirt fitting him like a glove.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him, shocked that he is standing on my doorstep.

  “I figured you needed a friend,” he says, and I crush my face into his chest and cry out while he holds me.

  Blake

  Blake

  I didn’t even know what I was doing, but the only thing on my mind was getting to her. To her soft voice, her silent sobs, her broken spirit.

  Gone was the woman who fought so hard and took so much pride in painting her house, and in her place was the woman who was left behind to feel she wasn’t worth it.

  It took me an hour and forty-five minutes to make the two-and-a-half hour drive. When I pulled up, the house was black. I didn’t know if she would answer, didn’t know if she was even up still, but I knew deep in my soul that she needed to know someone cared. Someone was going to hold her hand. She answered after one ring and her voice was much the same as it was two hours ago.

  “Open the door,” I tell her, and I disconnect. I stand here waiting to see movement. I don’t at first, and then I hear soft footsteps coming down the stairs. The lock clicks on the front door, and ever so slowly, I see her. Her pink pj top goes off the shoulder with matching pants. Her brown eyes puffy from crying.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks me, shocked I’m standing here.

  “I figured you needed a friend.” I smile at her, and she doesn’t say anything; she just crushes her face into my chest. My arms go around her, the wetness of her tears soaking through my shirt. I pick her up in my arms and walk inside. Sitting on the couch, I cradle her in my arms, rocking her as she cries.

  “I gave him everything,” she says, grabbing my shirt in her tiny hand. “I gave up everything for him,” she says quietly so as not to wake the girls. “My dream job,” she says as her sobs soften and her breathing hiccups. “I was a social worker,” she says with her head tucked into the crook of my neck. “I was going to make a difference, even if only to one child. I was going to do my best to make a difference.” I’m so tempted to kiss her head, so tempted, but I don’t. I just listen to her. “But then I got pregnant with Lizzie. I was so happy, and I didn’t think I could be any more in love with another person in my life. The moment they placed her on my chest was overwhelming; it was everything. Eric was the one to tell me perhaps I should stay home. It would be better for her, so I did it. I left my job, but I got to spend every single day with my girl. Then Daisy came, and it was an overabundance of love. My heart grew tenfold, and I thought I was on top of the world. I thought it just doesn’t get better than this. And then to be told that I just wasn’t that up to par for him.” She stands. “That I was just okay, but Hailey was the one who completed him.” She lifts her head to look at me, and I want to hold her face in my hand and wipe away the tears. I want to bring her lips to mine, but I know I can’t. “I gave him two beautiful girls,” she tells me. “They are so beautiful.”

  “They are,” I agree with her. “Just like their mom.”

  “How didn’t I know?” she asks. She’s looking at me like I have all the answers in the world, but I don’t.

  “You trusted him and believed in him. This isn’t on you,” I tell her, my hands itching to touch her.

  “I believed him. I believed that he was just as fucking complete as I was. Boy, was I wrong.” She shakes her head, standing in the middle of the huge room. I finally see her with the moonlight streaming in, and her face is fuller. It isn’t sunken in. Her eyes, even though she has been crying, are different.

  “When was the last time you looked in the mirror?” I ask her, the question surprising her.

  She opens her hands in front of her. “I have no idea.”

  “Well, I suggest you do,” I tell her, standing up. “I saw you less than a month ago, and you’ve changed.” She looks at me, not understanding, so I grab her hand in mine. Our fingers fit almost perfectly. I push aside the feeling of her hand in mine and bring her to the kitchen with its sunny paint. I turn on the light and look around. “It was dead before,” I tell her. “The walls were white and dead, and now it’s sunny and full of life.” I release her hand and turn around. “This is your sunshine; you did this, and you did it for your girls.” I take a picture of the three of them with yellow paint on their hands off the fridge. “Look at the girls. You did that, not Eric.” I don’t stop there. I grab her hand and lead her back into the living room. “This,” I tell her, “you’re living, you’re doing what he isn’t. You’re fucking living, and you’re doing it, telling him to fuck off. You’re doing it for your girls; don’t let him win that. Not again.”

  She looks at me after she looks around. “You made a home for your girls; you gave them this. Not him. So it doesn’t matter what he says, it doesn’t matter if you made him or that Hailey completed him because, in the end, you complete those little girls, and it’s so much better than him.” She nods her head like she finally gets it.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, smiling. “You came all this way.”

  “I figured I could see up close how bad the seafoam green is.” I smile at her, and she finally laughs.

  “It’s really fucking bad,” she says. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me to the bathroom. She wasn’t lying; it’s horrible.

  “Let me make some coffee,” she says, leading me back to the kitchen. She makes a cup of coffee, giving me the cup she once sent me a picture of. I sit here for the second time in my life, but this time, it’s different. This time, I’m not here for Hailey; I’m here for Samantha and only her. She sits next to me with something in her hand. “I need to choose a color for my bedroom,” she says, and for the next hour, we laugh over paint shades while she checks Pinterest for ideas. For two hours, we do nothing but talk about her bedroom, not one of us bringing up Eric. When I finally walk out of the house and head to my truck, I wave back at her. As I pull off, the phone rings, and the Bluetooth picks it up.

  “Hello?” I say.

  Her voice comes out softly. “I figured you could use some friendly conversation while you drive home,” she says with amusement.

  For the next two hours and a half, she tells me stories of what a horrible cook she is. How she once made meatloaf, but it was so soppy it looked like meat soup. I laugh as I tell her stories about the recipes that I do know, which aren’t much. When I finally pull up to my house, it’s almost five a.m. “Are you going to go to bed now?” I ask her.

  “No,” she tells me. “I think I’m going to make a big breakfast, and then when the kids leave, I’ll go to bed.” She yawns.

  “Okay, call me when you wake up,” I say, getting out of my truck and disconnecting. I take off my shoes, fall on my bed, and sleep for six hours straight. Getting up when the alarm rings, I walk to the coffeemaker, pour a cup, and drink it with my eyes almost shut. After taking a shower, I head to my truck and drive over to my parents’ house.

  I knock on the door then walk in and see my mother in the kitchen, taking out an apple pie from the oven. “Guess I’m here right on time,” I tell her. I kiss her cheek and grab the coffeepot to pour myself a cup.

  “You look tired,” my mother says, putting down the oven mitts.

  “Yeah, I had a rough night,” I tell her and don’t go into more detail.

  “Anything you want to talk about?” she asks me, and I just shake my head. “Well, you know that if you need to talk about anything, I’ll be here.”

  “I know, Mom.” I smile at her. “Where is Dad?” I ask, looking around.

  “He’s in the shed already,” she tells me, so I walk out to the backyard. Going into the shed, I hear him curse. Through the open door, I see him trying to get a shelf to stay in place.

  “Guess I came at the right time,” I tell him from the doorway as I hold up one side while he tries to nail the other side. I grab the hammer from him and push him aside so I can nail it in and it doesn’t fall on his head. We sp
end two hours putting up shelves and fixing the one shelf he put up crooked.

  When we finally finish, he looks over at me. “There is a reason I went into law.” He smiles. “Because I fucking hate this shit.” He takes off the gloves he has on to prevent getting a splinter in his hands. “You look weird,” he says to me. “Something is off.”

  I shake my head. “Nothing is off with me.”

  “It’s in your eyes,” he tells me, and I look down at my feet, not sure what the fuck is in my eyes. He doesn’t say anything; he just walks out, and I follow him.

  When we walk in, Mom has lunch ready for us. “Your sister is in love with the beach,” she starts telling me while I take a bite of the sandwich she made for me.

  “I heard from Crystal that it’s going well,” I tell them. “Looks like everyone involved is finally moving on.” I don’t catch the words before they slip out, and I know for a fact my father caught it, but he doesn’t say anything when I look up at him. He just gives me a sideways look and then looks to see if my mother noticed. She didn’t, so I take another bite and pay more attention to every single word that comes out.

  I finally leave after Mom wraps half the apple pie up for me. I pick up my phone that I left in the truck and see that Samantha sent me a text.

  Did I dream that you came here?

  Samantha

  Samantha

  I roll over to check the time, and it’s almost time to go get the girls. I get out of bed, dragging my legs to the bathroom. The shower only wakes me halfway. Going downstairs, I find the mess I left after breakfast, and I smile when I see the two coffee cups in the sink. He really came here. He really showed up for me. I grab my phone and text him

  Did I dream that you came here?

  I put my phone on the counter as I load the dishwasher and take some chicken out for dinner. I walk to the bus and am greeted by the girls and their big smiles when they walk off the bus.