Losing Love (What Will Be Book Series)

by Laura Ashley Gallagher

  As we walk with a space between us, I slip my hands into my pockets. He does the same while turning to look at me.

  “At least you don’t sit like you used to.”

  What was he talking about?

  “You used to sit in a ball, holding yourself together. You’re at ease now,” he explains, because he knows me so well, he answers before I can ask. He looks happy and content. Peaceful. “I’m guessing it has something to do with our daughter?”

  My grin spreads across my face, and I’m embraced by a sense of pride.

  “She fills in the hole you had in your heart.”

  I nod, allowing a tear to creep down my cheek. “She is my heart, Nick.”

  “I know.”

  As we stroll along the edge of the water, watching the sunrise over the ocean, nothing but the sound of waves between us, I begin to feel distant.

  “You’re leaving now?” I ask, my voice wobbly, and I swallow back the lump threatening to choke me.

  “My job here is done. You don’t need me anymore. Our little girl came back to you.”

  I know it’s time. I’ve wanted to say goodbye to him for a while, but I could never muster the courage. Now I understand. I needed him. I held onto him until there were no other reasons to hold on.

  We stop walking, turning to face each other, his black hair blowing into his face. It’s the same face that resembled our daughter so much. He leans forward, gracing my cheek with a simple kiss.

  “Give her that from me.”

  “And many more,” I agree.

  Before he leaves, he spins back on his heels. “Don’t you want to know what I forgot to tell you?”

  I don’t know why, but his question brings me peace.

  I shake my head firmly, knowing what should have always been my answer.

  “No,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter anymore. All the things we never said are insignificant. We said what was most important.”

  “There’s my girl.” His smile is wide, and he dips his chin, something about the shake of his head becoming final. “Goodbye, love.”

  I close my eyes, the sound of the ocean disappearing around me.

  And I let go.

  ***

  The next morning, I wake to an empty bed. My eyes scan the room but no sign of Ava, just tousled sheets by my side. As I leave my room and make my way downstairs, the sound of a familiar giggle eases the tension stiffening my back.

  My dad is leaning against the back door, drinking in the scene playing out in the garden.

  “Morning.” I yawn, looking over his shoulder to see Ava helping my mother plant some flowers.

  “Hello, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “She didn’t wake me.”

  He smiles down at me, eager to tell me something. “I was up early this morning and when I heard movement in your room, I thought I would see you both. But her little sleepy head came wondering in here with a ‘Morning Grandad’. Like she’s been doing it every morning for seven years.” His face swells with pride. “And just like that, she made herself at home. I made her some breakfast, and we sat together and had a chat. I was getting to know my granddaughter.” The look in his eyes makes tears dust in mine. “I’ll tell you, Mandy,” he says, excited. “She’s awful bright.” It’s been less than twenty-four hours and this man already thinks Ava is his sun, moon, and stars. “Your mother thought she’d show her how to plant some flowers. But the big child…” He dips his head towards Matt. “He’s been trying to get her attention for ages.”

  That makes me laugh. He’s a child at heart, too.

  “She’s still in her pajamas.”

  “Nobody can see her in the garden. She’s fine. She’s happy.”

  He’s right, as he mostly always is.

  She is happy.

  I feel a sudden lump form in my throat, so I hug my father from the side, resting my ear against his chest.

  “You’re doing amazing, sweetheart.” He kisses the top of my head.

  “Thank you. She misses her mama every day, but I think she’s adjusting.”

  “She will always miss her mama. But can you imagine how much harder her life would be if she had none.”

  I let out a small laugh.

  “You always make sense, Dad.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. At least you listen to me.” He throws his eyes towards Matt again. He rubs his hand up and down my arm, squeezing supportively. “How are things going with Alex? Co-parenting, I mean,” he drawls, knowing the subject of Alex is still very raw.

  I shrug, taking a long breath. “He’s amazing with Ava. We get on with it, for Ava’s sake. She leads us and calls the shots. It’s working. She comes with me for half the week and back to Alex for the other half.”

  “And how are you?”

  I know he isn’t asking how I am. Not really. He’s asking how I am after Alex.

  “I miss him every day.”

  He holds me closer, in a way only a father can with his daughter. The same way I’ve seen Alex hold Ava.

  “Life didn’t throw that many coincidences at you both and mean for nothing to come of it. Sometimes it’s simply fate. And a man doesn’t look at a woman the way Alex looked at you and not feel anything. Give it time. Time is the greatest healer.”

  Despite knowing the truth, I offer him a small smile, but I say nothing.

  I don’t need to.

  Words won’t explain how I feel, and no amount of time will heal what is broken. Only one person can do that.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Ava? Sweetie? It’s time to wake up. We’re here.” I stretch my arm to the back seat, gently shaking her leg.

  Her cheeks flush with the heat of sleep, and she yawns before her eyes flutter open. Her small body stretches out on the seat, becoming rigid for a moment, and her lips curve up into a sweet smile. She’s had a crazy two days, becoming acquainted with a whole new family and it was a two-hour drive back, so I understand why she is exhausted.

  Her hair clip clings to a few strands of her black hair, swinging in front of her face as she gets her bearings.

  “His car isn’t here,” Ava says, looking around.

  I hadn’t noticed, but she’s right, and the house looks dark. It isn’t like Alex to be late, especially for Ava. I check my phone. I’ve missed a text.

  Alex: Sorry. Running a few minutes late. Be there soon.

  I don’t mind. I welcome the opportunity for more time with the little girl in the back seat.

  I reply, telling him we are at the house, but there isn’t any rush.

  “Uncle Alex is on his way. Want to take a walk on the beach while we wait?”

  Her petite face lights up, her eyes becoming wide, and she nods her head ecstatically with approval.

  When I’ve helped her out of the car, I fix her hair clip, removing the strands of hair back from her face. Her face is far too pretty to be hidden behind so much hair.

  Ava reaches up to take my hand, totally oblivious it makes my heart inflate every time she does it.

  It’s summer, but a chill lingers in the air, and the grey sky threatens a storm.

  Just a few minutes on the beach before the rain comes.

  “Can we see everyone again soon?” Ava asks, looking up for answers.

  “Of course we can.” I swing both of our hands as we step onto the sand. “Somehow, I think they may come to see you before we have a chance to see them.” I know my family won’t be able to stay away.

  “I don’t want you to go.” Ava lowers her head, saying it mostly to herself.

  Before we approach the water, I kneel, taking Ava’s face in my hands. Her eyes seem too young for so much longing.

  “You will see me in a few days. And I’ll always be here for you. When I’m not with you, you can call me.”

  She seems content with the answer.

  In my best attempts to lighten the mood, I dip my fingers in the water that’s coming up to meet our f
eet and splash the drops on her arm. She squeals and jumps back, her shock only lasting a moment before she breaks into a heart-warming laugh. A laugh that comes from deep within her belly, and her shoulders shake.

  I love her laugh.

  I never want her to stop.

  So, I splash her again.

  For a second, Ava doesn’t move, and then she swings her foot under the water and kicks it towards me, soaking my hair and sweater.

  The cold water causes my breath to catch in my throat, but Ava laughs so hard, her knees are buckling.

  “Hey,” I shriek, standing up, breaking into a giggle of my own.

  I sweep her up in my arms, swinging her around in circles before we both fall down. Now we’re both destroyed in sand, wet, and happy.

  When I look at her, I don’t see myself, or Nick, or any trace of her biology. All I see at this moment is Alex. This happy, charismatic, laughing little girl; Alex taught her that. He taught her playfulness. Her nature—good, pure, and thoughtful—is all Alex. And my chest clamps up.

  “You’re the best.” Ava wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight.

  “No, you’re the best.” I kiss her warm cheek.

  “Uncle Alex,” she shouts, kissing me quickly before rushing from my arms.

  I stand, shaking off the sand from my jeans, and when I look up, there he is. Standing at the top of the beach, hands in his pockets, watching the scene unfold. I’m not sure how long he’s been standing there, but I can tell, even from this distance, he’s smiling.

  I reach him after Ava. He scoops her up with ease, and she somehow looks smaller in his arms.

  “I came home, and I was wondering who those two beautiful girls on the beach were.” He rustles Ava’s hair with his palm.

  He glances towards me briefly, a smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

  “It’s going to rain, kid. You should say goodbye to your mom and get inside.” He sets her back on her feet. “I will get your things from the car.”

  “I’ll pick you up after school on Wednesday, okay?” I tell her as I cuddle her close and try to hold on to the feeling of having my baby in my arms. I always feel empty when she leaves. “I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Ava says before skipping inside the house.

  And now we’re alone, and there suddenly isn’t enough air on this beach. I don’t know if the sound I’m hearing is from the crashing of the waves or my heart beating madly.

  “I could watch you two together forever.” He dips his chin, putting a hand back in his pocket while running the other through his hair.

  “She’s a blessing.” Unexpectedly, my eyes well up, and it may have something to do with how much I love my daughter or how close Alex is standing.

  With that, a heavy raindrop falls on my cheek. I crane my neck to look up at the angry sky and know it’s going to pour soon.

  When I lower my head again, he’s staring at me. I know that look. Aching, wanting, and painful.

  Hesitantly, he stretches out his hand and wipes away the raindrop from my cheek with his thumb. I don’t breathe as he strokes me because I’ve forgotten how to, and his finger gently presses against the corner of my lips.

  “We should get the stuff from the car before you get soaked.” He drops his hand and gestures for me to go with him.

  As we walk, his fingers sweep against mine in a fleeting brush of his knuckles, and my skin feels so hot, he could have been branding the very spot he is touching. He’s as nervous as I am. I can tell from how his chest is rising and falling, his shoulders rounding forward, and breathing heavy.

  As we get to the car, the heavens open. No warning with a brief shower, just an instant heavy downpour and a rumble of thunder in the distance.

  I fumble to open the trunk with wet hands. I give him Ava’s backpack, and when I do, I spot the large black umbrella hiding in the back, blending in with the carpet of the trunk. I grab it and take a step back to open it. When I lift it over us both, my body becomes acutely aware of how close he is. His warmth is a total contrast to the cold drops falling around me.

  “Take this,” I offer, holding out my hand to give him the umbrella. “It’s yours, anyway.”

  His eyelids open wide, and I can see the cogs turning in his head. He realizes the significance.

  It’s his umbrella.

  The same one he covered me with the first day we met. It’s been in my trunk for over a year, hiding, as if it would only show itself at the right moment.

  “Go. Get inside before it gets worse.” I avert my gaze to my shoes, hoping he will walk away for both of our sakes, but not wanting him to.

  I can’t bear having him so close without being able to reach up and touch him or press my lips to his.

  His eyes close briefly, and then he doesn’t say a word before he turns and walks away. I want to grab his arm and tell him not to go. I want to beg him to forgive me. I want him to make everything right, the way it used to be.

  I don’t want to watch him walk away again, so I busy myself with closing the trunk, not caring that the rain is saturating through my clothes.

  “I can’t.” My heart skips a beat when I hear him, his voice loud and firm.

  He turns back to look at me, his frantic breathing in sync with mine because we even share our crazy.

  “I can’t let you drive away again because damn it, I will never stop loving you.”

  He throws the backpack and umbrella to the ground and in three large strides, my face is in his hands and his lips crush against mine. His hunger makes my legs shake and my arms collapse to my side.

  There isn’t any need to say what we are feeling. This kiss says it all.

  He misses me, too.

  He wants me.

  He needs me.

  He loves me as much as I love him.

  His hands grip my hips, pulling me closer when his kiss becomes softer. My hands are in his hair, as if making up for every touch we’ve missed out on.

  When he pulls away, I keep my eyes closed because if he regrets that kiss, I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to look into his eyes and see how that kiss was a mistake. Because to me, it wasn’t a mistake.

  It was everything.

  I can’t regret it because if only for a minute, I was whole again.

  “Mandy,” he whispers and nuzzles his head in the crook of my neck.

  I’m not sure if the moisture on my face is from tears or the raindrops.

  Probably both.

  “Look at me, Mandy,” he pleads.

  Time to face the truth.

  But when I open my eyes, his face doesn’t say regret. It doesn’t say the kiss was a mistake.

  All I see is My Alex. Some wounds and bruises are buried behind his eyes, but he’s mine.

  All tension leaves my shoulders with a long exhale, and it’s like with that breath I let go of all the months of pain and longing. None of it matters now as we stand here, staring at each other, breathing frantically, and absolutely soaked through.

  None of it matters.

  He matters.

  Ava matters.

  We matter together.

  “Come inside.” It isn’t a question.

  I can’t find the words yet, so I nod and try to smile through my endless sobs.

  “You kissed my mom.” Ava appears on the porch, squealing as her legs stomp with excitement. And without a care in the world, she runs down the steps and straight into Alex’s arms. She pushes her wet hair back from her face. Her mouth turns down and she shivers. “It was gross.”

  When I look at Alex, we both throw our heads back with laughter. She doesn’t mince her words.

  “Get used to it, kid. That’s what people do when they’re in love.” His lips edge up in an amused smirk and when he winks at me like he used to, I melt all the way to my feet.

  There he is.

  He kisses Ava’s forehead and then the top of my head before moving aside.

  “You take the lead, remember?” />
  No, it’s not the rain. I’m definitely crying.

  I reach up, placing my palm on his chest while my other hand intertwines with his.

  “This time,” I say, “We do it together.”

  Epilogue

  One year later.

  I’m somewhere between consciousness and living out the remnants of whatever dream I was having. It’s that place where everything is peaceful. Where there is no past or future, only a comfortable present.

  No knowledge of regrets.

  No guilt.

  No longing.

  No burn in my chest.

  Everything is right in the world.

  I search around in my head for the nightmares, but there aren’t any.

  No nightmares.

  Not in over a year.

  The light around me filters through my struggling lids, and wetness and soft pressure invade the skin of my face.

  I blink, my eyes fluttering open to black curls, warm chocolate eyes, and pouting pink lips smothering me with kisses.

  Now the burning in my chest isn’t from pain. It’s from love, and all is still right in the world.

  “Morning, baby girl.” I yawn, kissing her head. I pull back the covers and tap the sheets next to me. She jumps in, giggling as she stretches her arms out towards me. In her hands is pink paper folded into a card.

  It’s the most beautiful card I’ve ever seen.

  “Happy birthday, Mommy,” she chimes with pride.

  “You made this?” I smile, taking the card from her hand. The picture is full of rainbows, sparkles, glitter, and everything Ava. “Thank you, sweetheart. It’s the best card ever.”

  She continues to name the people she’s drawn. “This is me, and you, and Uncle Alex. And this,” she points to two suns she’s coloured in either corner, smiley faces in each, “this is Mama, and this is Nick.”

  My heart twists and I hug her close. Her smile doesn’t falter, though, and it’s exactly as she always is. The loss in her life doesn’t get her down. She has her moments, of course, but she has an emotional maturity far beyond her years, and I can’t help but wish she didn’t have to. I tell her stories about Nick all the time, and she talks about her mama. She’s not afraid. I’m sure she feels the loss, but it doesn’t appear like she fears the loss of love, because Alex and I make up for it every day.