Romancing My Love (Love in Bloom: The Bradens) Contemporary Romance

by Melissa Foster

  He laughed. “Hey, that’s all on you. I was just an unknowing messenger who spilled the beans.”

  “Right again. Jerk. I wish I could hate you.” She released his shirt. “But I need someone to knock sense into me, I guess. It might as well be you.” She couldn’t shake the feeling of something poisonous slithering inside of her and trying to get out, but taking it out on Andy wouldn’t do any good.

  She headed into the locker room thinking about projection. Did she expect to see pity and become blind to everything else?

  It could be.

  Oh God. I will not be one of those loser girls who becomes a self-fulfilled prophecy.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  REBECCA DROVE BY the park to try to climb out of her own head after going to see her doctor and picking up her new birth control pills. She returned home and ran a load of laundry. She was procrastinating, but every time she thought about holding her mother’s urn in her hands, she felt empty inside. She had a feeling that if there was any truth to what she’d felt since her mother passed away—that her mother was always nearby—then it could also be true that the reason she hadn’t felt her mother around for the last day or two was because her mother was giving her a sign. My stubborn mother. She imagined her mother’s strong, determined voice before disease stole that piece of her, too. Mi dulce niña, what are you doing? Don’t let the past determine your future. Open your eyes, niña. Stop knotting up these darn strings. I’m pulling as hard as I can.

  She set a basket of laundry on the bed and glanced at the package of birth control pills she’d begun taking only an hour earlier. It was freeing, knowing that she wouldn’t have to rely on Pierce to be responsible for both of them. She wanted to have children one day, and she’d let her mind drift a few times to the possibility of having children with Pierce. She still believed, truly believed with all her heart, that a future with Pierce was possible—and right—even with the hard time they were going through. But having children was a decision she wanted to make with him, not have it made accidentally for them.

  She folded the last of her laundry and sat down on the edge of her bed, wishing Pierce was there with her. She lay back on the bed and looked up at the ceiling, reflecting on her wish. She didn’t feel like the same woman who had kneed a guy in the groin and then punched him in the jaw. She lifted her hand and held it in front of her face, fisting and unfisting her fingers. She’d felt so strong for so long. She’d needed to, with her mother unable to care for herself and Rebecca feeling like she might fall apart at any second but knowing that falling apart wasn’t an option. She’d built walls around her heart, her mind, and even her body, in an effort to keep her emotions from herself, as much as everyone else. It would have been so easy to spiral down into self-doubt and self-pity—but she had remained strong. Looking back at what their lives were like toward the end, when her mother couldn’t get up out of bed, her body bloated and sedated, she couldn’t fathom how she’d made it through each day, much less the last few months, but she had. She goddamn had, and she felt proud to have been there by her mother’s side.

  As she lowered her hand and wrapped her arms around her middle, she realized she’d not only walled off those emotions, but she’d masked them with strength. It was more than a need; it was her best survival technique.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, “Being strong is hard. So damn hard.” Tears slipped down her temples as she waited for her mother’s voice to rescue her. She held her breath, waiting, hoping, praying to hear her mother’s voice, and when it didn’t come, she rolled onto her side and cried. Her body shook as sobs she’d kept hidden deep inside burned and bubbled through her chest and lungs, leaving her lips on the wings of ragged, painful breaths.

  Rebecca had cried many times after her mother died, but the tears that pooled on her bedspread and in her hair weren’t solely for the mother she’d give anything to have back. They were for herself. For the woman she had become out of a dire situation, for the woman she left behind and might never be again—and for the woman she desperately wanted to be but was afraid to accept. She curled into a fetal position and rocked forward and back, trying to rid herself of the tentacles of fear that gripped her. Was it wrong to let some of the strength she’d worn like armor go? To let herself be loved without looking for an ulterior motive behind every glance? What if she let Pierce in—really let him in—and he didn’t like the weaker Rebecca? The Rebecca who loved when he opened doors and told her she was beautiful? The Rebecca who loved that he was constantly aware of other people, pulling her closer when he felt protective and stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. What if she said she didn’t want to handle everything by herself? Could she afford to love with her whole being and risk being abandoned again? Mom didn’t abandon me! It wasn’t a choice!

  Stop it. Just stop the bullshit questions and say what you really mean.

  She opened her eyes with the determination of the voice in her head. It wasn’t her mother’s voice admonishing her. It was Rebecca’s own voice calling her out on her deepest fear.

  She pulled her knees up tighter against her chest, as if they could shield her from the truth. She gritted her teeth and held her breath as the thought that she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge broke free and forced its way into her mind, as sharp and as painful as shards of glass.

  What if I let all that strength go…and he dies?

  She heard the wailing a second before she registered that it was coming from her own lungs.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

  Nonononono.

  She buried her face in her pillow even though she was home alone and dug her fingers into the comforter so hard her knuckles hurt. She didn’t want to hear the torturous sounds of the truth as it tore from her lungs. She didn’t want to feel the ice-cold piercing of her heart, but she knew she had to feel those things—accept those things—if she was ever going to move forward.

  Open your eyes.

  No.

  Open your goddamn eyes. You’re not a quitter.

  No! I can’t.

  She could always make herself get through anything. Anything. All it took was determination and the voice in her head that never doubted her. The voice she’d concocted when her mother was no longer strong enough to cheer her on and she needed to dig deeper to find the strength not to cry at the sight of her mother moving closer to death with every hour. Her mother’s voice had taken over for her own voice after her mother died. It happened seamlessly, during the weeks when Rebecca was trying to piece her new motherless life together and convince herself that getting out of bed every day was a good idea and the best choice. The only choice. It had been her mother’s voice that convinced her that she would get through the pain and emptiness of being orphaned, while her own voice had been swallowed by grief. She was still, after all, a grieving daughter.

  Now that voice she relied upon had silenced. She was alone in her mind, the quiet of the room split only by the sound of her sobs.

  Alone.

  But I was always alone.

  The thought brought harsher sobs. She’d always known she was alone in her caretaking, and somehow egging herself on in third person had made her feel safer, less alone, stronger. And afterward, when she was alone in their apartment and she’d used up all of her emotional reserves in caring for her mother, her mother’s voice had taken over. Her mother pulled her through when she was simply surviving, finding a job, dragging her tormented, devastated ass out of bed instead of being swallowed by sadness.

  Desperate times. Desperate measures, she reminded herself.

  Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

  She pushed herself up to a sitting position and wiped her eyes. Her body shook with each sob she tried to swallow.

  “This isn’t a desperate time,” she said aloud. “And I am not alone.”

  She swiped angrily at her tears with her forearm, sucking in hampered breaths as she struggled to regain control of her emotions.

  “This
is anything but a desperate time. It’s a hopeful time.”

  She looked up at the ceiling, with her breathing under control. “I’m cutting the strings, Mom. I’m tired of getting tangled up in them.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “I love you. I will always love you, but it’s time for me to stop worrying about what Pierce thinks of me, or of what I had to do. It’s time for me to let him love me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  REBECCA PULLED INTO the parking lot of her old apartment complex and parked by the office. She stepped from her car and remembered that even though she felt safe, she’d told Pierce she wouldn’t go there without him. She’d fought him on his request, and a big part of her still felt like it was overprotective of him, even if it was a loving gesture. She’d lived there for years and hadn’t needed an escort, and she didn’t need one now. But as she stepped from the car with a strange heaviness in her chest, she wished he were there with her. And when the part of her that was used to being in control of everything tried to push that wish aside, she gathered it back around her heart and allowed herself to feel and accept it. She loved him, missed him, and she was about to pick up her mother’s urn. If ever there was a time when she could use support, it was now. She had no idea if she might fall apart when she saw Mr. Fralin, or when she held her mother’s urn in her hands for the first time since she’d handed it over to him. Now she needed Pierce’s strength, and she didn’t care what she saw in his eyes.

  With a deep breath, she crossed the parking lot and headed inside.

  “Rebecca.” Mr. Fralin reached for her hand as she came through the door and drew her in close. “Would you like to sit down?”

  Her heart was beating so fast she couldn’t sit still. She’d give anything to have Pierce’s reassuring hand on the small of her back, his whisper in her ear, telling her things would be okay and that he was there for her.

  “No, thank you,” she managed. “I’m a little too nervous to sit.” Rebecca looked around the rental office, suddenly remembering when she’d been forced to request a smaller apartment because they couldn’t afford the rent for the two-bedroom. Mr. Fralin had never made her feel bad, and as he stood before her now, with her hand in his, it struck her that she’d never even looked for an excuse to believe there was any pity in his eyes—and yet she had with Pierce.

  I’m an idiot.

  She wasn’t afraid of Mr. Fralin being taken away. She appreciated him, and she loved him for what he had done for her and for her mother, but she wasn’t in love with him like she was with Pierce. Losing Mr. Fralin would be heartbreaking. Losing Pierce would be devastating.

  She had been pushing Pierce away so she didn’t get too attached. The realization nearly knocked her to her knees.

  “Rebecca? Rebecca, are you okay?” Mr. Fralin looked at her with an assessing gaze, and she realized she had zoned out and hadn’t heard him talking to her.

  “I’m sorry. I…I was just thinking about something.”

  He nodded as if everyone zoned out, thinking about losing the man they loved.

  “Shall we retrieve your urn?”

  Her legs moved robotically as she followed him into the back office, her mind still reeling with her stupidity. How could she have allowed herself to ruin things with a man she’d give her own life for? She’d spent so much energy trying to find a reason to back away the last time she saw him that she’d almost lost sight of how real his love was. Oh God. What if she’d already ruined things?

  She waited while Mr. Fralin went into a smaller room with the wall safe. Her heartbeat was frantic with worry about her relationship with Pierce and anticipation over receiving her mother’s urn. When Mr. Fralin appeared with the urn in his hands, she froze, expecting to fall apart. He set it in her hands, and she didn’t crumple to the floor. Her legs didn’t wobble, and she didn’t stop breathing. She gripped the urn tightly against her body and felt the prickling of her nerves begin to ease.

  “Thank you, Mr. Fralin.” Her voice was quiet, but at least it hadn’t failed her. She gazed up at the man who had made her mother’s last days easier, and gratitude swelled inside her. Her words came easier now. “You’ve been so generous. I appreciate everything that you’ve done for us. For me.” And then she remembered that she’d brought him his money, and somehow her brain was functioning normally again as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a twenty-dollar bill. “I’ll be out of town this weekend, so I brought this week’s money with me.”

  “Rebecca, please.” He lowered his voice. “Please keep your money.”

  She really wanted to change where Pierce was concerned and to allow him to do more for her and not only accept it, but enjoy it, but even though she could use the eighty dollars a month she’d agreed to pay Mr. Fralin, this was something she felt too strongly about to let go.

  “Mr. Fralin, I don’t expect you to understand this, but I lost my mother. All I have left is my pride. I would appreciate it if you would allow me to pay you back.”

  His thin lips didn’t quite smile, but he nodded, and she saw understanding in his dark eyes. “As you wish.”

  Rebecca handed him the twenty-dollar bill. “Thank you for everything.” She left his office with her arms wrapped around her mother’s urn, holding it close to her body. In the hallway, she took a deep breath, her heart still beating rapidly. Even though she had honed her ability to get through hard times on her own, she still wished Pierce were there with her. She leaned against the wall, and the next deep inhalation brought strength.

  Baby steps.

  She used her butt to push open the door, careful not to jostle the urn too much. Outside, she squinted against the blazing sun as she headed toward the parking lot—and stopped cold at the sight of Pierce’s car parked next to hers. She lost her breath at the sight of him stepping from the car in his business suit, wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. He crossed the lot with the confident gait that struck her as perfectly Pierce: in control, determined, and making a beeline straight for her. He smiled, and—finally—her brain sent the signal to her legs to move. She nearly sprinted the distance between them and fell into his arms, clutching the urn between them.

  She gazed up at her reflection in his sunglasses. She was smiling, with fresh tears streaming down her cheeks, and she didn’t care. “What are you doing here?”

  “When you didn’t answer your phone, I went to your work, and they said you were off today, so I went to your house. Henry said they came home as you were leaving to come here.” He leaned down and kissed her. “You got your mother’s urn.”

  She knew he expected to find her overwhelmed with sadness, just as she’d expected to feel, and she might never understand why instead of feeling devastated, she was beginning to feel renewed.

  “I did.”

  “And? How are you feeling?” He gently rubbed her arms. “Are you okay?”

  “You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.” Her brain spewed her thoughts out like lava. He was right there with her, holding her as she needed to be held. He’d never failed her, not once. Not even when she’d tried to push him away.

  “I’ll always be here,” he said easily.

  She finally let go of the fear that had been buried too deep for her to understand. She knew in her heart that Pierce would always be there for her, but hearing it helped to clear her thoughts a little more, so she could tell him what else she had to say. “I needed to bring her home, and eventually, I need to set her free.” She felt stronger by the second now that he was by her side. She had a million things to say to him—and she didn’t want to wait another second.

  She needed to see his eyes. “Can you take off your sunglasses?”

  He smiled down at her. “I can’t, because my girlfriend said that when we talked about certain things, I needed to wear them. When Henry said you came here, I put them on.”

  She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing. “You really are the best boyfriend ever. But I don’t need you to wear them while we talk anymore. I
think I understand it all now.”

  He slipped off the sunglasses, and the love in his eyes was so intense that Rebecca struggled to find her voice again.

  “I’ve…I’ve done a lot of thinking, Pierce, and for the first time in my adult life, I can breathe a little easier.” She leaned against him, soaking up his strength, not wanting to let go of the urn, or him, or delay the conversation. “I feel like I can make decisions separate from what’s best, or what I need, and make them based on what I want.” She loved the way he waited patiently for her to finish, even though she could tell by the way his mouth twitched that he had something to say.

  “I want to be with you, Pierce. I don’t want time to think. I mean, I needed time to think, and it helped tremendously, but I know you don’t pity me. I really know that, in my heart, where I had to believe it. I think I’ve always known that.”

  “I don’t pity you. I respect the hell out of you.”

  She smiled. “I know that, too. I was looking for my fears in your eyes. I worried I’d be pitied, and I was looking for it, maybe even waiting for it. I was scared that I’d let you in and then you’d leave, and…I feel so stupid. I realized that I was so busy looking for pity that I looked right past the love and twisted and turned it into something dark and dirty, because I was scared.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “Wait, please. Let me finish. All this stuff hit me all at once and I kind of went to pieces. It was cathartic, an eye opener, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you about staying in my car. But if none of that had happened, I never would have figured all this other stuff out.”

  “Babe, you don’t have to explain.”

  “Yes. Yes, I do, because I want you to know where I was coming from, so you can understand where I am now. I was scared shitless, from the moment my mom told me she was sick until after she was gone, but I didn’t want to admit I was scared. More importantly, I couldn’t admit I was scared. I probably would have fallen apart.”