Just One Night

by Charity Ferrell

  I sit down in front of her gravestone and place the pink tulips, her favorite flower, in front of it.

  “Hey, Lucy-Pie,” I whisper. “Happy birthday.” I chuckle, sitting back. “Big thirty-two.”

  I sigh. “I know I haven’t been here in a while. I’m sorry. And I know you like me to be honest, so that’s what I’m going to give you. I’ve been consumed with guilt, feeling like a trader, a bad husband, like you’d be disappointed in me. It was a dumbass thought because I know your heart. You’d probably want to slap me right now and tell me to get it together. You’d lead the way for me when I didn’t know which way to turn. Tough love is what you called it.”

  My eyes water. “I’m having a baby. We were supposed to have two, but we lost one. It was like going through hell again. Maven wants you to watch over her baby brother or sister. Can you do that for us?”

  The sun beats down on me, and a tear falls down my cheek. “I lost the baby like I lost you, and I was so mad. So damn mad. I felt sorry for myself. I was pissed at everyone … at everything. But my anger and fear is only going to make me keep losing people.”

  I sigh and slip my wedding ring off my finger. I stare at it one last time before digging a small hole in the dirt with my fingers. My hands shake while I bury it next to the tulips. “I realize now why you made me promise. I had no problem promising to be a good father, and that’s what I’ll do to both of my children. I reluctantly promised to find love again, and I hope you’ll be proud of me when I say I have.” I tell her about Willow, about our babies, about how excited Maven is to become a big sister.

  I wipe my nose. “And, while you’re up there, will you give our baby a hug for us?”

  I won’t forget about Lucy.

  I won’t try to replace her.

  But I will let myself move on.

  Chapter Forty

  Willow

  It’s been a month since we lost the baby.

  A long and gruesome month.

  There hasn’t been a day that’s gone by that I haven’t gone over the things I should’ve done differently to stop the miscarriage from happening. I’ve read article after article and talked to Aidan about it at every appointment.

  So, I’ve been doing everything I can to take it easy, attempting to stay on bed rest, like the doctor suggested, but I’m going stir-crazy.

  The uncertainty of another miscarriage has been the only thing on my mind.

  Dallas hasn’t brought up his offer for me to move in with him. I don’t know if it’s been retracted or if he’s scared of the rejection.

  Stella insisted I do most of my work from home, and when I do visit her on set, she practically caters to me like I’m her boss. Lauren stops by before every shift. Rory and my mom regularly check in with me, and Dallas and Maven are here nearly every day.

  Lauren is right. Having a good support system helps.

  I sit on the couch and stare at the doorway to the nursery. Something I do every day. I haven’t been back in it since I lost the baby. Dallas keeps asking if he can put the crib together or start painting, but I can’t bring myself to say yes.

  It’s not that I don’t want this baby to have a nice nursery.

  It’s that I’m terrified I might lose this baby, too.

  The front door opens, and Maven comes running into the living room. Dallas is behind her with a bag of takeout.

  Her smile beams when it lands on me. “Can I ask her now, Daddy? Can I pleeease ask her now? I can’t wait any longer!”

  I tried to stop it, Dallas mouths to me.

  She plops down next to me on the couch, and I play with her hair.

  “Ask me what?”

  “Um …” She opens her mouth but chickens out and slams it shut.

  Well, that’s new.

  She whips around to look at Dallas. “Will you do it for me, Daddy? You say it much better.”

  He slowly nods, and I know what he’s about to ask isn’t going to be easy on me.

  “Maven will be starting kindergarten soon. Tomorrow is Parents’ Night.”

  “Will you please come with me?” Maven chimes in. Her spunk is back. “Pretty, pretty please? It’ll be so, so much fun. They’ll have snacks, and you get to meet my teacher! I’m going to big-kid school!”

  I don’t know if Maven told him she’d asked me to be her new mommy, but he hasn’t mentioned it. And I don’t plan to tell him. That’s a secret between the two of us.

  Dallas leans back against the wall and fights a smile on his lips. “There was no way I was going to stop her from asking you. You know she doesn’t take no for an answer very well. Plus, I could use the company.”

  “Please,” Maven continues to plead. “Everyone else is going to have their mommy there.”

  The air leaves the room.

  “Maven,” Dallas says, his voice almost sounding shaky, “you know Willow isn’t your mom.”

  “I know, but she’d be a good second mommy.” She closes her eyes in sadness. “She doesn’t even have to be my new mommy. I just want her there, so I won’t feel left out.”

  Dallas rubs his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting all that.”

  I wave off his answer, seeing the hurt on Maven’s face, recognition hitting me. I was the girl without a father at everything. I understand her hurt, the pain she’s going through.

  “Maven, I’d love to go,” I answer, shocking myself and Dallas.

  She springs off the couch. “I told you she’d say yes, Daddy!” She wraps her short arms around me and jumps up and down.

  My heart warms. I’m doing the right thing. Going to her Parents’ Night will help me just as much as her.

  We devoured our dinner, and Maven fell asleep on the couch while watching cartoons.

  “Want to talk?” Dallas asks.

  I’m not reluctant this time. I’m not going to blow him off. I lead him to the kitchen.

  He blurts out his apology as soon as we sit down. “I don’t know where the hell the mommy thing came from. I’ll break the news to Maven and tell her you had something come up.”

  “I’m going,” is all I reply, but so much is said in those words.

  “You don’t have to do it if you don’t feel comfortable. You looked like she’d asked for a kidney.”

  “It surprised me, is all. I want to go. I know what the need feels like to have two parents at functions because I was the little girl whose father never showed up. It was heartbreaking, and if me doing something as small as showing up makes that little girl feel better, I’ll be there.”

  He leans forward and presses his lips to mine. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “You’re going to love my school!” Maven squeals when we pull into the parking lot of the elementary school.

  I run a hand down my stomach. No more hiding the baby bump. No more hiding my affection for Dallas and his little girl.

  Maven’s class is small, and we take a table in the back. Parents fill the room, greeting each other and spewing off question after question.

  Everyone knows everybody.

  Except for me.

  But that doesn’t mean they don’t know of me.

  “Oh, you’re that actress girl’s friend, right?”

  “So, Dallas, this is the woman you’ve been spending all your time with?”

  “I heard about what happened at the birthday party. That sounds so tragic to have the news come out like that.”

  If they’re not asking ridiculous questions, they’re staring.

  There are a few exceptions though. Not everyone is nosy and rude. A few have introduced themselves without fishing for gossip, and they seemed genuine.

  Dallas took Maven up to select her cubby, and my body tenses when someone sits down next to me.

  “I was hoping you’d come,” Beth says in a soft voice. “My daughter and Maven are in the same class this year. They’re going to have a blast together.” She smiles. “This is the first time I’ve seen you si
nce you picked her up from preschool, so I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you on the baby, and give my condolences on your miscarriage.”

  I flinch.

  “I hope you don’t mind that Maven told me, but I promise, your business is not mine to tell.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “How far along are you?”

  This isn’t an interrogation. She’s not asking me this question out of spite. There is not a doubt in my mind that she’s truly happy I’m having this baby.

  “About five months,” I answer, giving her a smile back.

  “I remember the anticipation as the date gets closer. You’re nervous the baby is going to come anytime.”

  I smile and nod. I’m more nervous of losing my baby.

  Our attention is caught at the sound of Maven laughing. Dallas is down on one knee, helping her decorate her cubby with stickers and stuffed animals.

  Beth tilts her head toward them. “He’s a good man. A broken one, yes, but still a good one.”

  “He’s been a good friend to me.”

  “Just a friend?”

  I shrug. “Our situation is … complicated.”

  She pats my shoulder. “I hope I’m not overstepping my boundaries here, but there’s something I want to give you.” She opens her purse, and I notice the water in her eyes as she places a folded piece of paper in my hand. “My sister wrote this before she passed and asked me to give it to the woman Dallas fell in love with.” She closes her hand around mine as a tear passes down her cheek.

  I jerk it back to her. “You’re mistaken. Dallas isn’t in love with me.”

  “Read it. It’ll help you understand how he loves you.”

  I don’t mention the letter to Dallas.

  I keep it tucked in my pocket and constantly check to make sure it hasn’t fallen out all evening. The meeting doesn’t last much longer after Beth leaves, and Dallas and Maven convince me to go out for dessert before going home.

  Other than doctor’s appointments, which Aidan started sneaking us through the back door for, this is my first time stepping out with Dallas since the miscarriage. I’ve been so terrified of getting judged, of people staring, of hearing vicious things coming out of their mouths, but I’m done with that now.

  Tonight has made me feel comfortable.

  Tonight hasn’t made me feel like such an outsider.

  Maven doesn’t hesitate in unbuckling her seat belt when Dallas pulls up to my apartment. They’ve been here more than their house lately. She heads straight to the couch and drags out the crayons and coloring books I leave for her in the coffee table drawer. Her tongue sticks out as she colors, and Dallas makes each of us a cup of tea.

  We watch a movie until she falls asleep with a crayon still in her hand. He kisses me good-bye, and they leave. I’m picking up the mess when I remember the letter. I take a deep breath, not knowing what I’m getting myself into, and lie back on the couch before opening it.

  To the lucky woman who reads this.

  Hello,

  My name is Lucy. I’m sure you’ve heard about me. Possibly seen my pictures, my belongings, traces of me in the home we shared. You might’ve even known me.

  I was Dallas’s wife. And, since you’re reading this, I’m no longer here.

  Dallas is a difficult man. Always has been. He’ll be even more difficult after my death, but please don’t give up on him. If he’s opened up his heart enough for you to receive this letter, you have something extraordinary. Receiving this letter means he’s in love with you. I’m sure he’s fighting it because he wouldn’t be a Barnes boy if he didn’t fight the reality that’s right in front of him.

  Watch his actions. Those are what speak his love. He’s not the best at words, but the more you let him in, the more he opens up for you.

  Don’t be afraid. We’ve all had other loves. Don’t think he can only have one because you’ve proven that wrong.

  Please don’t give up on him because he won’t give up on you. When you make your way into his heart, he’ll fight to keep you there. He’s the strongest man I’ve ever known.

  Thank you for loving my family and give Maven a kiss for me.

  Lucy

  I’m in tears when I finish, and I hold the letter to my heart.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Dallas

  Willow: We need to talk.

  Her text isn’t the only thing that worries me. She sent it at three this morning. The early hours of the morning are when your brain is working the hardest, going over important choices, the shit you want to forget but can’t.

  Is this a good or bad we need to talk?

  Should I be heading to the airport?

  After I drop Maven off at school, I call Hudson and let him know I’ll be late today, and then I drive straight to Willow’s apartment. Fingers crossed it’s not empty when I get there.

  I take the stairs three at a time and find her sitting on the couch. My chest gets heavy when I notice the moving boxes scattered everywhere. Some flat, some put together, some taped up with scribbled words on them.

  She nervously glances back at me while I trudge across the room. I don’t take my eyes off her–like it’s the last time I’ll get to see her. Her naturally plump lips that fit perfectly around my cock are puckered as she watches me. The hair I love twirling my fingers around is down in loose curls. The woman I’ve fallen in love with is going to walk away with the remaining pieces of what’s left of me.

  “Hey,” she says. “You never texted me back. I wasn’t sure if you got my message.”

  Why? Was she trying to get out of here before I showed up?

  I snatch a half-filled box and dump out the contents. I need physical evidence that my life is going to change. That I’ll be going back to the miserable asshole I was before she took me over.

  “What the hell?” Willow screams, sliding off the couch in frustration.

  I scowl at the items on the floor. Clothes. Shoes. My eyes zero in on the shoes she left at my house that night. Her gaze goes to me, then to the pile on the floor, and back to me.

  Where did this sudden change come from?

  We spend all of our free time together, and from what I believe, we’ve been enjoying it. No arguments have occurred. Every prenatal appointment has gone well.

  What happened? Where did it go wrong?

  “You going somewhere?” I ask.

  Her brows scrunch together. “The moving boxes give it away?”

  “Sure did.” I struggle to keep my voice calm.

  Stress is bad for the baby. We can’t risk another miscarriage. I won’t argue. Won’t fight it. She’s calling the shots. I’ll move if that’s what she wants, get a job bussing tables in LA if I have to, turn my life upside down to keep her.

  Her head cocks to the side. “I thought this was what you wanted?”

  I grit my teeth. “That’s never what I wanted. Not once have I told you to pack up and ditch us. Just so you know, what you’re doing is going to leave my daughter and me broken. Do you understand? You’re not supposed to turn your back on us because we fell in love with you. I fell in love with you.” I shake my head, my voice breaking. “And we don’t want another person we love to leave us.”

  She blows out a breath and smiles.

  The fuck?

  “Did you bump your head? These boxes are for me to move in with you.”

  Her answer melts the burden off my chest. “What did you say?”

  “I said, I’ve been packing my stuff because I’m accepting the offer of moving in with you, dipshit.”

  Damn, does my girl have a mouth on her.

  Stupidity rails through me. So much time has passed since I asked her to move in, I figured it wasn’t an option.

  She’s staying. Halle-fucking-lujah.

  I crack a smile while she blankly stares at me.

  “So, now that you know I’m not leaving your ass, promise me you won’t do that anymore,” she says, her tone turning emotionless. �
��If you want me to move in with you, you can’t go around, saying things you don’t mean.”

  I cock my head and stare at her in confusion. “What don’t I mean?”

  “That you love me.” She throws her hands down to her sides. “We get along great, the baby will have two parents, but don’t get my hopes up. I’ve made my mind up to move in, so you don’t have to lie to me.”

  Oh, shit.

  The L-word hasn’t left my mouth again since we lost the baby. In fear of her running away, I’ve stopped myself every time. Now, my dumbass has blurted it out and ruined any chance of her moving in with me.

  I draw nearer before she kicks me out, and I walk her back until her back hits a wall. I press a hand to her cheek, and hers wrap around my neck, massaging the built-up tension. I look down, searching for eye contact, but she’s not giving it.

  “Look at me,” I whisper. My voice turns raw. Raspy. My breathing falters when she does. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love you.”

  I didn’t bring her home with me that night, expecting to fall in love. I never thought that having surprise babies, going on road trips, getting stranded, and then surviving a miscarriage would bring so many emotions out of me. That it would warm my cold heart. That’d it bring me closer to her.

  She’s managed to do that.

  She makes me want to be a better man.

  A man who believes in love again because he’s in love with her.

  She’s a strong woman with a heart of gold, who brought a flashlight in my darkness to show me the way to happiness when I was fighting not to find an exit.

  I won’t lose her.

  “Tell me you feel it, too,” I say.

  Worry is evident on her face. The hesitation tells me she’s insecure about getting hurt again if she says it. My pulse quickens. The same feeling is driving through her. She wouldn’t have agreed to move in if it wasn’t.

  “I’m scared of feeling it,” she finally replies. “I’m scared that loving you is reaching for something that’ll never be mine. A lifeline I can’t reach because you’re in love with someone else.”