by Marni Mann
But when three months went by, three more instances of looking down and seeing red, Honey was ready to talk to Andrew.
She waited for him on the couch, knowing he would see her the second he opened the door, cuddled beneath an afghan her mother had knitted.
When he came in after his shift, he still had the doorknob in his hand when he said, “What are you doing up so late, baby?” He left his briefcase and jacket by the door and sat next to her.
Honey tightened the blanket around her. “Couldn’t sleep.”
His hand went under the afghan, and when he found her fingers, he leaned forward and kissed her.
She could smell the hospital on him. It made her love him more.
“You’re never awake when I get home from this shift.” His lips moved to her forehead. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She had to look away for a minute. Her thoughts were too heavy and all over the place. She had planned what she was going to say, rehearsed it many times, especially considering she had been on this couch for hours. But now that he was here, the words weren’t coming so easily.
“Honey …”
She was staring at the glass coffee table in front of them. She hoped, one day, it would be covered in small fingerprints, the sharp edges needing to be wrapped so they wouldn’t poke any eyes out, the ceramic vase in the middle removed so it wasn’t within reaching distance.
All problems she prayed to have.
That was why she glanced up at her husband, squeezing both of his hands, and said, “I think we should adopt.”
He clutched her back, and Honey saw the answer before he said, “Me too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and it’s really something I want.”
Her eyes filled with tears as she gazed at him. He was still in his scrubs and white coat, hair a little disheveled, a darkness under his eyes telling her it had been a long shift. But he looked at her with so much patience and love.
“Andrew, I can’t handle the letdown anymore.” She slowly tried to inhale, filling her lungs all the way. “Every month, without fail, it’s like clockwork. I get three weeks of hope and then a week of torture and then hope and torture. I can’t take it.”
He released her hand to cup her cheek, his thumb gently caressing the edge of her eye, each swipe getting more of the wetness that had fallen. “I don’t want you to feel that way. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me?” He pressed his forehead against hers just to get closer. “I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, Honey, and I want to take all of your pain and suffering in return.”
With each word Andrew spoke, Honey’s tears began to drip faster, and he continued to catch each one.
She loved him with an intensity she hadn’t known existed.
A feeling that went beyond words.
“Then, give us a baby,” she whispered. She clung to him with a strength she had to dig for. “Making you a father is the only thing I want.”
Andrew pulled his forehead away and placed his hand under his wife’s head, carefully laying her down on the couch. With a tenderness a husband only had for his wife, Andrew’s hands slowly moved across Honey’s abdomen, caressing the scars from her surgery before he took her clothes off.
Honey did the same with Andrew’s, unable to get close enough, her fingers touching every inch of his skin.
When they were both nude, they made love.
For the first time since they had decided to get pregnant, there wasn’t any pressure. Honey could enjoy his lips on her body and remember why they were there. She could feel a pleasure she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
And that night turned into one of the best she’d ever had.
Fifty-Eight
Jared
I returned to Manhattan two days before Billie came back from Maine. My plan was to spend the entire time in the office. Work had suffered since I turned all of my attention on her. I had been delegating a lot of my responsibilities, putting off trips I needed to take just so she could spend the night in my arms.
It wouldn’t last forever. One day, picking her wouldn’t be an option.
But right now, she was mine.
And that was what I told myself every time I chose her over work.
With her gone, it gave me a chance to catch up. I wasn’t more than two hours into my day when an email came across my phone. It came from the account that had its own special notification, a sound that caused me to look at the screen, no matter what I was doing.
This time, the email was from the credit card company, letting me know my statement was ready.
It was a card that served no purpose anymore.
Since the network at my office was the most secure, I used my desktop to log in. With the card not having a balance, I went into Settings and found the button that terminated the account. Then, I returned to my email.
Saved in the inbox were all of the monthly statements that had come in since the card was opened. They showed a zero balance, except for one month.
Embassy Jets, $876
The total cost I had paid for seats 14A and 14B.
Really, it was the cost Marcus had paid because the card was in his name.
Except Marcus knew nothing about any of this.
And after today, I was going to wipe the history from his credit, ensuring he would never find out. Not that he ever monitored it or needed access to his credit. I was the financial backer to Basil’s, which was the window I’d needed to set all of this up.
I cleaned out the rest of the inbox, leaving just the twenty-six emails from Billie. They were messages between the two of us where we discussed her services, the new ad she was promoting after the crash, and the reports she sent to show the results of the campaign.
All were addressed to Marcus.
Each reply I sent, I made sure to sign his name.
He didn’t know about a single one.
For now, the email account would stay open, but it was only a matter of time before it would get deleted too.
My life with Billie Paige … erased.
As though she could sense I was thinking about her, my phone lit up with her picture on the screen. It made me smile every time she called, the same way I was doing right now. I’d taken the photo last month when she was staring out the window in the backseat of my SUV, the sun just starting to kiss her face.
Now, it was a piece of time I was going to hold on to forever.
“Good morning, gorgeous,” I said, holding my cell to my ear.
“Mmm,” she yawned. “It’s so early in LA, and you don’t sound groggy at all.”
I ground my teeth together and got up from my desk to walk over to the window. “I’ve been up for hours. You know I can’t sleep when I’m away from you.”
“I didn’t sleep well either. Maybe it’s just nervous energy about today. I don’t know.”
I pressed my palm against the cold glass and looked out across the city. “Talk to me about it.”
“It’s just a long, hard buildup and then a lot of emotions that follow. It’s not this way every time I come home, but this weekend is the same every year.”
I balled my hand into a fist and pressed my knuckles against the window. I wouldn’t let my mind go there. I wouldn’t let it process what she was talking about. I couldn’t. Or this phone call would go a very different way.
“I hate that you’re hurting, Billie.”
“You calm me. I know that sounds foolish, but I could really use some of that right now.”
“I’m here.”
“No, you’re not.”
I shut my eyes and kept them closed, my teeth gnawing on my bottom lip.
And just when the silence really started to swell, she added, “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. I said it because I honestly wish you were here. I need you. So badly right now.”
“Billie—”
“Don’t worry; I’ll be fine.”
If I could, I would have pounded my fucking head into the glass until the
entire window shattered. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
I could feel her pain in the air.
I had to say something. I had to somehow make this better.
“Hey …” My eyes opened, and I gazed at the buildings across from me. I didn’t blink. My heart was screaming. If there were a tear in this body, I would have shed it. “I love you.”
I heard her take a breath. I swore, I could even hear her eyes close.
“I love you, too.”
I wanted to be there with her even if it was impossible.
Everything about this situation was fucking impossible.
But I loved her.
I couldn’t help it.
“I’m here if you need me. All right?”
“I know.” Her voice changed. “I was just telling my father how amazing you are.” She took a breath, and I could hear her try to smile. “He’s really excited to meet the man who’s made me this happy.”
My hand flattened against the window. “I’m looking forward to meeting him …” I felt a pain shoot through my jaw as it tightened, and I ground the top of my knuckles into the window. My chest was about to fucking explode. “I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Bye,” she said before I dropped my phone into my pocket.
In some ways, I wished I were back on Flight 88.
At least in the air, I was only worried about her survival. I wasn’t worried about destroying her fucking heart.
Fifty-Nine
Honey
Winter 1987
“I can’t pick one,” Honey squealed as Andrew tickled her from the floor of their living room. “You have to make the decision.” His hands moved up her sides, and with each shift, she screamed louder. “I refuse.”
“Then, I’ll just keep tickling you.”
“Nooo.”
Even though she was laughing through tears and squirming all over their throw rug, she didn’t want him to stop. That was why she didn’t tell him the movie she really wanted to watch when it was her turn to choose—the point that had started the tickle war in the first place. Because once Andrew got that answer, he would put the movie on, and Honey was enjoying his attention far too much for that to happen right now.
“Which one?” he said, his lips so close that she could taste the wine on them.
The same flavor was on her tongue from the bottle she’d opened earlier. It was part of the spread she had set up, an afternoon picnic on the floor of their condo with blankets and pillows while they watched movies and were lazy all day. Except now that the credits for Rocky IV had just finished rolling, it was time to make a decision.
“Ahhh!” Honey shrieked as his hands ground into her, upping the speed to make her howl the loudest it had been.
“Say it.”
“You’re going to hate it,” she cried, not able to hold him off any longer.
His hands softened, the smile staying on his face. “Try me.”
“It’s between two—St. Elmo’s Fire or Footloose.”
Andrew stayed close to his wife, holding her rather than tickling, his hands never leaving. “Footloose.” He nuzzled his nose across the tip of hers. “Because you’d rather see that one over the other.”
She’d only have to walk over to the TV, lift the VHS tape off the shelf underneath it, and insert the movie into the VCR once the previous movie was out. But instead, she put her hands on Andrew’s face and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss.
His fingers were just starting to tug at her waist when the phone rang.
Andrew and Honey had a rule that no matter what time a call came in, they always answered it just in case it was the hospital. So, Andrew reluctantly pulled his mouth off of Honey and went into the kitchen where the phone was located.
“Hello?” Honey heard him say into the receiver.
She watched her husband’s face as he listened to whoever was speaking, and after a few seconds, he said, “Hi, Stephanie. It’s no problem. We’re not busy right now.”
With her eyes locked on Andrew, Honey tried to think of all the women she knew named Stephanie, and it only made sense for one of them to be on the phone.
Our attorney? Honey mouthed.
When Andrew nodded, she rushed off the floor and hurried into the kitchen, standing next to him while he held the phone away from his ear so the both of them could hear.
“I don’t mean to bother you on the weekend,” Stephanie said, “but I have some exciting news that I think will excuse my interruption, and I really want to give it to you right away.”
Honey’s hand went over her mouth, holding in the nerves that were now exploding in her stomach.
“Honey’s here,” Andrew said into the phone, “and we’re ready to hear whatever it is you have to say.”
Honey swore, she had to wait several minutes before the attorney spoke again.
But when she did, she said, “I’ve found you a baby to adopt.”
She stared at her husband in disbelief. They had only met with Stephanie a few months ago, a recommendation from one of the other doctors at the hospital who had heard of her through a sibling. Since her office was in New York, they had taken the day off from work and driven the six hours south to see her.
Stephanie had warned the couple it could take months, possibly up to two years, before she found them a child. She wanted them to set realistic expectations, so when Honey and Andrew left that meeting, they had a lengthy timeline in mind.
Never had they imagined it would happen this soon.
“The information I can tell you so far is that the mother lives in New Hampshire. She’s seventeen years old, approximately eighteen weeks along. I’ve spoken to her and the father multiple times, and they’re both in agreement to give up their parental rights.”
Andrew reached for Honey’s hand, and she squeezed back.
“I know there are questions I should be asking you,” he said to Stephanie, “but I didn’t expect you to call, and I don’t have anything prepared.”
“I understand,” she replied. “News like this can be extremely overwhelming, and it will continue to be so throughout the adoption process. This is the most emotional thing you’ll ever experience in your life.”
Honey couldn’t stop the tears. She didn’t even try. The hope she was feeling in her heart was consuming her in a way where she felt like she could finally breathe.
Andrew had promised her a child. He’d never stopped believing.
And now, it was coming true.
“We’re ready for it,” Honey responded, her voice soft but clear.
“Would you be available to come in next week?” Stephanie asked. “We’ll need to start the paperwork as soon as possible.”
Andrew checked the calendar Honey kept in the kitchen, which listed both of their work schedules and all of the events they had to attend for the hospital.
He pointed to a date, and when Honey nodded, he said, “How’s Thursday?”
“That works.”
They agreed on a time, and once they hung up, Andrew’s hands were on his wife’s cheeks, tilting them up to look at him.
“We’re getting a baby,” she said, the joy spreading over her face.
Honey clutched his chest, consumed by the most intense love for him and the thought of this baby they were going to raise together.
“This is it,” he said. “I can feel it.”
All Honey could do was nod.
Because in her gut, she felt the same thing.
Sixty
Billie
Today was the hardest day of the year. We all had one—a memory from a certain period in our life that we revisited when the anniversary approached.
Mine wasn’t exactly a memory. It was a little more complicated than that, but the date was May 20. And every year, I’d return home to spend it with my family where we celebrated with laughter and food and booze.
Food was how we communicated after all. The way we showed our love for each other. F
ood was what hugged back and listened when no one understood our pain.
There would be music playing and lights strung across the porch, buckets of ice-cold beer all over the backyard.
It would be a party, and that was the way it should be.
And that was the reason I wanted Jared here—to celebrate with my family, to finally meet them.
He had to work, and that was a reasonable excuse. It just didn’t make today any easier.
Because, despite it being a celebration, today was my struggle.
The party was scheduled to start tonight at six. Speakers had been stationed around the shrubs, platters of food were waiting in the fridge, and cases of beer and alcohol were taking up a third of the garage.
Everything was in place.
It just wasn’t time.
Now that we were all back in the house together and everyone was hanging around downstairs, I headed upstairs for a moment of quiet. Still wearing my black dress from earlier, I walked to my old room, but when I got to the door, I didn’t stop. I continued down the hallway to my parents’ bedroom.
I paused for a second in their doorway, taking a breath, and then I sat on my mother’s side of the mattress.
This was the first time I had come in here since returning to Portland a few days ago.
It wasn’t a place I avoided. I’d spent many nights of my childhood in this bed.
But on May 20, it was a hard place to be.
I leaned forward, grabbing the framed photo off the nightstand, holding it between my hands. It was a picture of my parents on their wedding day. My mother wore a casual white dress, and Dad was in a black suit.
They were so incredibly beautiful together.
I held the frame against my chest, and I closed my eyes as I tried to remember every detail he’d ever told me.