Nothing But This

by Anders, Natasha

  But first, Libby had to deal with the wholesale devastation Hurricane Tina had wreaked on the Island of Greyson.

  “Olivia,” Greyson said, his voice so soft she had to strain to hear him. “I did and said so many things I regret. And I don’t know . . . I have no idea how to make it right again. I wish I knew how to fix it. Tell me how. Please. What would make you forgive me?”

  “Greyson,” she said, her own voice equally soft and laced with sorrow. “I don’t know the answer to that question. I wish I did. I wish I could stop being so angry and sad. I wish we could be a family . . .” She shook her head and dislodged the tears that had been threatening since she’d walked into the office, heard Tina’s words, and seen the impact of them on Greyson’s face. He made a soft sound of distress and ineptly reached over to wipe her tears from her face with his thumbs.

  “Don’t cry,” he pleaded, stepping toward her, his palms cupping her cheeks. “I’m not worth your tears, Olivia. I’m not. I never was.”

  A sob hitched in her throat. “I just wanted so much more for us, Greyson,” she said, her voice choked with tears.

  “Me too,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around her and tugging her toward him. He gathered her close, until she felt safe and secure in his warm hold. Her own arms went around his waist, and she rested her damp cheek on his chest, just appreciating the quiet comfort of this moment.

  “I want you to have a fair shot at a relationship with Clara,” she said thickly, putting her palms on his chest and pushing herself far enough away from him so that she could stare up into his face. “And I think the best way to do that is if you looked after her in the evenings while I’m busy here.”

  He paled, and Libby could tell the notion terrified him. Her offer had been stupidly impulsive, but it felt completely right. She needed a sitter; he needed to spend time with his daughter. It was the ideal solution.

  “If that’s what you need,” he said without any hesitation whatsoever, despite still looking like a deer trapped in headlights.

  She stepped completely out of his hold and wet her lips before nodding.

  “Yes,” she said, digging around in the pockets of her chef’s smock for a tissue and thankfully finding one. She wiped her nose before continuing, “I think, because it’s hard for Tina to work in her office while Clara’s here, it would be best if you watched her at my house.”

  “But what about feeding her?” he asked, and she shrugged.

  “I’ve started weaning her. I’ll start alternating formula and breast milk until she’s fully transitioned to formula. I’m sure she’ll adjust in no time at all.”

  He looked doubtful but nodded anyway. “I’ll be happy to look after her in the evenings, Olivia,” he said solemnly, and she smiled.

  “And it’s only on weeknights; I have a sitter for the weekend. I mean, I don’t know how long you intend to stay in Riversend, but . . .”

  “There’s no time limit,” he interrupted firmly, and that made her speculate, for the first time, how he could uproot his entire safe, predictable life like this. After their whirlwind courtship, once they had been married and starting their lives together, it had soon become very apparent to Libby that Greyson was a creature of habit. He ate at the same times every day, had the same little rituals and habits that had to be done in the same way at the same time. He even read the newspaper in the same order every morning . . . and the mere fact that he read a physical newspaper every day, instead of catching the news online, was very much an insight into the type of man Greyson was. His was an old soul, and he did not like his routine disrupted too much or for too long.

  His pursuit of Libby had been an anomaly. Very much out of character for him. She knew that now and wondered about it.

  For him to have come here was anomalous too. He was out of place here, off balance, and yet . . . he did not look in any hurry to get back to his routine. He was wearing one of his more familiar suits today, but even with the suit, he still had day-old stubble, his hair was a mess, and there appeared to be a coffee stain on the pristine white cuff of his shirt. And his red silk tie was ever so slightly wrinkled.

  Everything was off about him since he’d arrived here, and it was both refreshing and disturbing to witness.

  “How can you stay away from the office for so long?” she asked curiously.

  “I can work from anywhere, and Mrs. Pegg is keeping the office from devolving into chaos.” Mrs. Pegg was his executive assistant.

  “Okay, well, if you’re sure you want to do this—”

  “Of course,” he interjected hastily.

  “You start tonight, six thirty. At my place.”

  “I’ll be there. That reminds me: I haven’t fixed the door handle yet. I had a meeting this morning. I’ll do it tonight.”

  She nodded. “Well, I should be getting back to work,” she said, and he made a murmuring sound of agreement. He was still shaken after his run-in with Martine and needed some privacy to process everything she had told him.

  They left the office, and Olivia headed toward the kitchen, while Greyson reluctantly made his way back to the table where Martine and Harris were seated. They appeared to be having a very friendly conversation, and knowing how his brother felt about Martine, Greyson was loath to interrupt them.

  He also would rather avoid Martine for a while, not keen on having another confrontation with the woman. He would make it quick and easy on everyone, merely tell them he was leaving and be on his way. He was sure they would be relieved to see the back of him.

  Tina was worked up about the childcare arrangement Libby had made with Greyson. The two women were back in the office because Tina had stormed into the kitchen earlier, and Libby had once again abandoned her station in the kitchen to finally have that private conversation with Tina. This was so damned unprofessional, but it was probably best for the restaurant if they cleared the air between them sooner rather than later.

  “Tina . . . ,” Libby began hesitantly after her friend protested Libby’s decision to move Clara off site during dinner service. She tried to find a way to frame her concerns tactfully, but in the end she could be nothing but blunt. Tact had never been Libby’s forte. “I can’t overlook the fact that you’re uncomfortable around her. I know she’s just an infant, but babies can pick up on stuff like that. She’s so tiny; I don’t want her to fret over things she can’t possibly understand. That I, quite frankly, don’t understand myself.”

  Tina swallowed, the clicking sound her throat made as loud as a gunshot in the silence that followed Libby’s statement.

  “I-I . . .” She swallowed again, and Libby waited, desperately wanting to understand what was going on with her friend. “I want to be different. I love Clara. But . . .” More hesitation, and Libby tried to remain patient, even though she wanted to take Tina by her shoulders and physically shake the words from her. But this—whatever this was—seemed to be exceedingly difficult for Tina.

  “I once had a baby,” Tina whispered, and Libby reeled at the words. The air left her lungs on a gasp of dismay. The profound shock of her friend’s unexpected statement made Libby’s head whirl in confusion.

  A baby? When? How could she have had a baby without Libby ever knowing about it? Her eyes remained riveted on Tina’s pale face; her friend looked sick and on the verge of hyperventilating. Libby was about to slide an arm around her waist and lead her to the sofa when Tina spoke again.

  “He died.”

  Libby froze, her eyes wide. Tina’s green eyes were shimmering with tears, but the expression on her face remained resolute.

  “I don’t understand,” Libby murmured. She didn’t know what she had been expecting to hear, but this wasn’t it. This was huge, this was . . . she shook her head. How could Tina keep this from her? Why would she? “You had a baby?”

  “A boy.” Tina’s voice cracked, but she forged ahead regardless. “He was two months old when he died. SIDS.”

  “But . . . when? When did this happen? How did I not know
about this? Why didn’t you tell me?” Libby was confused, upset . . . a little angry that the friend in whom she had confided practically all her secrets could keep one so life-changingly huge from her.

  “I was eighteen. Just out of high school, and as you know, my parents sent me to Scotland for my gap year. But in reality, they didn’t want anybody to find out that I was pregnant. I was supposed to have the baby, give him up, and come back home and go to college. Carry on as usual. You know?”

  Libby nodded bleakly at the tacked-on question, even though she knew it hadn’t really required an answer. She sank down onto the sofa, and Tina followed suit. Her body angled toward Libby as she continued to speak, her voice strangely detached, her expression remote.

  But her words were devastating, and as Libby listened, her shock and anger faded, and her heart broke for this woman who was trying so very hard to pretend that she was okay.

  When it was more than evident that she was broken.

  “I didn’t want to carry on as usual. I wanted to keep him,” she was saying, and a bitter smile lifted the corners of her lips. “But my parents wouldn’t have that. They were determined that I should give him up for adoption. I refused. I kept him. He was mine. And I loved him. But one day, I went to wake him from his nap, and he wouldn’t open his eyes. He was gone. Just like that.”

  Libby had a hand over her mouth as she tried to choke back the sobs that threatened, and Tina, obviously noticing her distress, absently patted Libby’s knee, as if to comfort her. How like Tina to worry about what Libby was feeling while speaking about what had to have been the worst moment in her life.

  “I’m so sorry, Tina. Oh God.”

  “It’s okay. It happened nearly ten years ago. But I’ve had some . . . issues. I couldn’t stand the idea of working with mothers-to-be, delivering babies . . . it wasn’t the right fit for me anymore. But I couldn’t seem to find anything to fill the void afterward. I was a little lost. And then, in the last year or so, everybody started getting pregnant. Conrad and Kitty”—her oldest brother and his wife—“you. Then Kyle and Dumi were talking about adopting.” Kyle was her middle brother. “I didn’t know, not until after you had Clara . . . how hard it would be for me to be around babies. But I’m trying to fix it. I love her so much. I want to be the best aunt I can for her and for my brothers’ children. And I’m so, so sorry if I’ve been weird. I never meant to hurt you.”

  Libby couldn’t help it—she was sobbing by now. Proper ugly crying, and she reached over to drag her friend into a hug. She sometimes found it hard to spare a tear for herself, but for Tina, she had many. Her friend’s heartbreak was so much worse than anything Libby had ever experienced, and her lost baby deserved Libby’s tears.

  “You should have told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It was complicated,” Tina whispered, trembling in her arms.

  “Tell me why,” Libby invited her. “What was so complicated that you felt you couldn’t tell your best friend about this?”

  “Well, for one thing, you were only sixteen, and it just seemed so wrong to burden you with something so adult. And Libby, I was embarrassed. You always seem to have it together. Even when we were kids, you were gorgeous, smart, well adjusted. Vivacious and kind. And so, so talented. It’s a little intimidating being your friend sometimes. You always seem so . . . perfect.”

  Libby stared at Tina uncomprehendingly. Harris had said something similar earlier, about how popular Libby was and how easy it had always been for her to befriend people. Why did everyone seem to think she was this flawless woman who had her shit together? Her life was a mess, her marriage had fallen apart, and most days she had serious doubts about her ability to be a good mother. Now two people had told her, in the space of an hour, how easy she had it. What the hell was that about?

  How could her two best friends not see how riddled with insecurity and doubt she was? Granted, Libby was awesome at the whole “fake it till you make it” thing, but she would have thought Harris and Tina would know her better.

  “I’m not perfect,” she said, trying to keep her tone neutral, because Tina was already fragile.

  “I know that,” Tina replied, her voice wobbling. “I do. But you have to admit, Libby . . . you’re the most normal and well adjusted of all of us. And you were always so good. Everything was always black and white to you. No shades of gray. Something was wrong, or it was right. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand, because I knew you would never have stupidly gotten pregnant. I felt so dumb. Just another teen-pregnancy statistic.”

  “Well, you weren’t the only one responsible, Tina,” Libby said, deciding to let the whole “perfect” thing slide for now. There was a lot for her to think about and examine later, but this wasn’t about her. It was about her friend. “The father had some accountability as well.”

  “I know. But I was on the pill, and I thought we were okay.”

  “Who was the father?” Libby asked, the question only now occurring to her. She had been so focused on Tina’s story she hadn’t even thought about the other party. Tina shifted uncomfortably and moved out of her embrace. She diverted her gaze to the floor, and Libby frowned, not liking her furtiveness.

  “That was the other thing . . . I didn’t want to tarnish one of your dearest friendships. And because of the circumstances surrounding our, um, sexual encounter, I didn’t really want him to know about the pregnancy. I was scared if I told you about it, you would confront him.”

  “Who? Who are you talking about?” Libby asked, even while a niggling suspicion formed in the back of her mind.

  Tina chewed on her thumbnail for a moment before sucking in a deep, bracing breath. She released the breath on his name. “Harris.”

  And Libby’s insides froze.

  Of course. It explained so much. Tina’s animosity toward the man, for one thing. Her avoidance of him, for another.

  “Harris?” Libby repeated, her voice flat. These revelations had her absolutely reeling in shock.

  Harris? How could he do something like this? Even at twenty he had always seemed like a decent man. A dependable man with scruples and a good heart. But she couldn’t reconcile the image she had of the man she thought she knew with the type of guy who would sleep with an eighteen-year-old and then abandon her.

  Everything Libby had once believed about the people closest to her had been a lie or an elaborate facade. Every single thing she had thought she knew about Greyson, Harris, and Tina lay in ruins around her. These people she had once assumed were so perfect were all truly flawed, and Libby felt like her worldview had fundamentally shifted.

  “He doesn’t know about my pregnancy,” Tina said hastily, and Libby’s focus shifted back to Tina, where it belonged.

  “Why not?” she asked, still feeling a little dazed.

  “Because . . . our one time together was a mistake.”

  “Did he take advantage of you?”

  Tina’s eyes widened. She seemed surprised by Libby’s rather old-fashioned question. “No. Oh my God. Of course not. You know I had a huge crush on him back then. If anything, I think maybe I took advantage of him. He was drunk or high or something. I didn’t know it at the time . . . he seemed so normal. It was only afterward that I realized he was completely wasted. And I felt humiliated. Like he needed, I don’t know, alcohol or whatever to find me attractive.” Tina was being very cagey, and Libby knew that she was still not telling her everything. It was frustrating, and she hated that. What other shocking truths could she possibly have to reveal?

  “Please don’t tell him about the baby. I will. I have to . . . eventually. But he needs to hear it from me. Okay?”

  Libby nodded, wanting to know more but letting it slide, because she could see that her friend was at the end of her emotional tether.

  “I still think Greyson should watch Clara at my house. I don’t want you to feel pressured into dealing with more than you have to, Tina. I understand how hard this must be for you,” she said, and Tina looked
alarmed by her words.

  “Oh, no, Libby. I like having her around here. Sometimes it can get a bit overwhelming, but that’s good. I need to learn to cope. Having her around has done so much more good than harm. She and Greyson can stay in the office. Please.”

  Libby stared at her friend for a long moment but could see nothing but sincerity in her gaze. She nodded. “Okay. But I think you should take tonight’s dinner service off. Reliving all of this couldn’t have been easy. You can deal with Greyson and Clara in your space tomorrow night. And then you have to promise me you’ll let me know if it’s too much for you to handle.”

  Tina gave her a watery smile and bobbed her head in agreement.

  “And Tina? You’re my best friend. I tell you everything, but it would be nice if you started telling me more as well. How can I be your best friend when I don’t know what’s going on with you?”

  “I’m sorry,” Tina said. “I just didn’t want to burden you.”

  “That’s what friendships are about. Why deal with the crap the world throws at you solo? When you have a friend who can help you work through it?”

  “I’ll try to be less secretive,” Tina promised, and Libby hugged her again.

  “Good. I have to get back to the kitchen. Will you be okay?”

  Tina took in another deep breath and gave her a quick thumbs-up and a wide smile. She looked happy and relieved.

  Libby returned her smile before leaving the office.

  Greyson had fully intended to head straight home, but Harris had convinced him to stay and eat. A decision that had been made easier once Martine had stormed off to talk to Olivia about her decision to allow Greyson to look after Clara.

  Greyson was terrified that she would manage to change Olivia’s mind, and so he stayed, nervously waiting to hear what the outcome of that chat would be. In the meantime, he was preparing to break bread with his brother for the first time in longer than he cared to recollect.

  Harris had once again started in on him about Olivia, but this time—heartily fed up with his brother digging around in his business—Greyson had asked him what the hell was going on with Harris and Martine. Of course, Harris hadn’t been pleased to have the tables turned on him, and he had liked it even less when Greyson had revealed exactly how much he knew about what had gone down between the couple ten years ago.